


Best Part of Me

by Chickensarentcheap



Series: Tyler and Esme's story [3]
Category: Chris Hemsworth-Fandom, Extraction (2020), Tyler Rake-fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 117
Words: 783,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24910336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickensarentcheap/pseuds/Chickensarentcheap
Summary: Six months after leaving Colorado and returning to Australia, Tyler has to learn how to cope in a normal world, away from the pace of the 'job'.  And he's learning not all battles are fought on foreign soil. Can he ignore the monsters and the demons of his past?
Relationships: Ovi Mahajan/Original Female Character(s), Ovi Mahajan/Tyler Rake, Tyler Rake & Original Female Character(s), Tyler Rake/Original Character(s)
Series: Tyler and Esme's story [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754608
Comments: 219
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: PROFANITY

SIX MONTHS LATER

___________________

The school is two blocks from the centre of Cooktown; a one story U shaped building situated on a dead end with two acres of fenced in green space and a large, elaborate playground. It's four miles from home, and while normally the kids take the bus, Tyler finds himself parking downtown to avoid the crowded street and parking, then back tracking. Crowds still bother him; too many strangers, too much noise, too much activity. His hyper-vigilance still very much a nuisance; instincts and reflexes always on high alert when away from the comfort and familiarity of home. A combination of new meds have helped considerably; he is no longer as agitated, his temper doesn't flare up as easily, and his anxiety attacks were less frequent. 

Keeping busy helps. There is always something to do with fifteen acres of property, five kids to help raise, and a small side business that he and Ovi started together. He doesn't have the time to be bored or to allow his mind to slip away to the 'bad place'; caught up with being domestic and the familiarity and routine that comes with it He finds that he thrives on those things. Craves them, in fact. More than he ever thought that he would. Night is when things get especially hard; when everyone else is at rest and the pain and the lingering sleep issues keep him awake. He has time to think then. An opportunity to think about the life he had before. It's not that he misses it. There's no desire to return; he doesn't miss travelling the world, spending time away from his family, hurting people, killing people. But after so many years, the job has become so ingrained in him that letting go is proving to be harder than he thought it would.

When he arrives at the school, he lets himself into the property through the back gate, taking a winding cobblestone walkway to the side of the building; where he'd meet the kids instead of them being ushered to one of the waiting buses, joining dozens of other parents that wait for the dismissal bell. Half a year later and he still finds himself scanning the crowd and the surroundings; eyes taking in everything around him, brain always at the ready to spot anything even remotely suspicious or could be considered a potential threats. Even on a school yard or at a park, he's always on alert, filled with that lingering fear and worry that there is always the chance that someone is watching or waiting to catch him off guard. So he notices -as he always does on the rare pick up day- the attention that he garners. It's always from the mothers; the running joke at home that he's the 'insanely hot dad on the playground'. He's heavier now; a total of twenty-five points since Dhaka six years ago. Ninety percent of the extra weight being solid muscle. He carries it well; mostly through the chest, arms, and shoulders. Even in a simple pair of weathered jeans and a plain grey t-shirt it's noticeable, and he sees the way a couple of mothers huddle together and begin whispering between one another, sizing him up the entire time.

Adeline begins to fuss in the baby carrier he sports. She's two weeks old; impossibly tiny -a mere five pounds, ten ounces when she was born- and so much like her mother. A head full of dark, wavy hair, enormous dark eyes and the splatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The 'odd duck' they often affectionately tease; the other four looking -and for the most part acting- just like him. He lifts the corner of the receiving blanket shielding her from the sun, a palm gently cupping the back of her head, his thumb repeatedly brushing against her ear; effectively lulling her back to sleep before covering her back up. The only thing visible two tiny bare feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

The mothers take it as a sign to make their move, and soon he has half a dozen surrounding him. All wanting to see the baby, all asking questions at once: Name. Age. What kind of sleeper? What kind of eater? How many siblings?. Each of them reacting with wide, shocked eyes when he tells them that she's the last of five. It's surreal even to him sometimes. A little over six years ago he was close to putting a gun to his head, now he's attending soccer games and dance recitals and getting up in the middle of the night to change diapers and fetch bottles.

Millie is out shortly after the bell rings, chatting and laughing with classmates as she steps through the door. A My Little Pony backpack over her shoulders and Spiderman sandals on her feet; another drawing for the fridge clasped tightly in her hand. Out of the three older kids, she's the one that has adapted the best. Easily making friends, impressing the teacher with how intelligent and athletic she is, but never taking any shit from the bigger kids and the bullies on the playground. And she gives him a bright smile when she sees him, stopping momentarily to remove her shoes and stuff them in her backpack, then racing over in her bare feet.

“Hi daddy!” she chirps, and he wraps an arm around her waist and effortlessly hoists her up onto his hip. She takes his face in her hands, kissing him noisily before peeking under the receiving blanket. “Hi Addie,” she whispers, and then leans in to give her baby sister a peck on the nose. She'd been relieved when she hadn't gotten another brother. There'd been no need to trade this one in for a puppy.

“Let her sleep,” Tyler says, and places Millie on the ground. “Don't wake her up.”

She begins waving her classmates over to see her baby sister, and he finds himself crouching down to give the curious five and six year old's a look. His oldest proudly boasting about her 'brand spanking new' sibling and instructing them not to wake her up 'or else'. Tyler isn't sure what 'or else' means, but usually at home it's a warning to her brothers that she's about to kick some ass.

When he stands up, Millie's teacher is approaching. Young -late twenties to early thirties at the most- all long legs and torso and tiny waist; long blond hair always pulled back into a ponytail or tossed up into a messy bun. Always friendly. If not a little too friendly. Way too chatty and a little too 'touchy feely' as far as he's concerned. And he wonders if maybe that's just her personality; flirtatious by nature.

“Oh shit,” Millie grumbles, and rolls her eyes before giving a fake smile and an overly sweet, “Hello Miss Pence,” as her teacher arrives on the scene.

“Amelia,” she greets, and the soon to be six year old glares at her. “How nice of you to bring your dad along.”

She issues a sigh of exasperation. “I didn't bring him. He came to get us.”

“Don't be mouthy,” Tyler scolds, and she gives a pout and then wraps her arms around one of his thighs, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she stares daggers at her teacher.

“We haven't seen you in a long time,” Miss Pence gushes, and Tyler moves his arm away when she attempts to place her hand on it.

“I've been busy.”

“I've heard. Baby number five! Is this her?”

“Don't touch her,” Millie snaps. “My sister is sleeping.”

“She's sleeping,” Tyler confirms, and plucks the edge of the blanket out of the woman's hand before she can pull it back.

“And just so you know,” Millie continues. “My daddy is married. To my mom.”

“Okay...that's enough...” he gently admonishes his daughter. “Watch your tone with people. Easy now.”

“We're having problems with that,” Miss Pence sighs. “She's so smart but she gets....well, you know....so mouthy.”

“Only to people who deserve it,” Millie defends herself.

Tyler lays a hand on the back of his daughter's head, giving the teacher a polite smile. “My wife and I will take care of it.”

“If you ever want to call me so we can chat one one one about it, I can give you my...”

“My wife and I will take care of it,” he repeats, and the young blond holds her hands up in surrender and slinks away.

“What?” Millie asks innocently when he looks down at her. “I don't like her. I don't like how she looks at you, daddy.”

“Yeah? And I don't like you talking to her like you did. That's your teacher. You don't talk like that to your teacher. To anyone.”

“Well I don't like how she looks at you and I don't think mommy would like it either. And she was going to wake Addie up! What...” she places her hands on her hips and glares at him “...if she asks you out on a date?”

“I'm married. To your mom.”

“Miss Pence doesn't care.'

“Well, I do. I'm married to your mom and I'm staying married to your mom. So....”

“She probably wants to kiss you,” Millie huffs “And do other things. That make babies.”

He frowns, opening his mouth to reprimand her, only to be interrupted by the twins -already bare foot- racing towards them, accompanied by their teacher' a short, portly woman with shoulder length grey hair. A surprisingly tender and sweet woman despite her harsh appearance and constant stern expression.

“We had another one of those days,” she sighs, and lays a hand on TJ's head. “Not as bad as the others, but bad enough. Threw a chair, turned over a desk. I know things have been hard on him over the past few months. But we're running out of options and the principal is running out of patience.”

He wants to say 'fuck the principal'; the kid had just turned five, and was still struggling to adapt to a new life, in a new country, thousands of miles away from the only home he'd ever known. They're all struggling. In one way or the other.

“Dylan Patterson called me stupid,” TJ explains. “Twice! So...” he shrugs. “...I got mad.”

“Mad is never a good option,” his teacher says, and lays her hands on his shoulders. “And violence is never the answer.”

Tyler smirks. He wants to ask her if she's ever heard of killing two people with one garden rake. But he decides against it.

“I heard him say it, daddy,” Tanner speaks up. “I heard him call Teej stupid.”

“You just saying that because he's your brother and you want to protect him, or...”

“No! He really said it!” Tanner insists. “I heard him. I wouldn't lie about that.”

It's true. The kid never lies. Always coming clean and fessing up for things that he does. 

“Daddy,” Millie tugs at his arm, and motions for him to lean down, then presses her mouth to his ear once he does. “Dylan Patterson is a dick head. He's mean to everyone.”

He frowns. “You're sure?”

Millie nods, then bounces up and down on her heels, obviously proud of herself for solving the problem.

Tyler decides to dismiss the teacher and her concerns. For now. TJ's problems are no secret. Behavioural issues that had seemed to start out of nowhere and just escalating; a hair trigger temper that he can't seem to control and doctors seem at a loss when it comes to treating. They -parents and physicians alike- keep hoping it will pass; that being in a new house, new school, new country will just get easier on him and his problems with pass as quickly as they developed. Or that as he matures, he'll mellow out. 

“Okay guys...we gotta go...” he checks backpacks; making sure they have everything they need to come home with them and there won't need to be any trips back. Lunch bags, shoes, homework. The latter seeing absurd for that kids that young. “...we gotta pick some things up for mommy.” He lays a hand on the back of Millie's head, gently moving her in front of him, the twins sidling up beside him, each grabbing a pocket on his jeans. 

“I hope you and your wife will talk about this!” TJ's teacher calls after them. “We need to get a handle on this!”

He gives a polite, tight lipped smile over his shoulder, then looks down at the kids and grumbles, “Let's get the fuck out of here.”

All three kids burst into hysterical laughter.

****

They run errands in town; picking up a small load of groceries for that night's dinner and breakfast in the morning, and a special treat for mommy at her favourite store in town: a small cafe that caters in cupcakes and nothing but. Afterwards Tyler takes them to the park; a chance for them to expel any excess energy that school didn't flush out of their systems. It's empty and he's grateful for that; even the smallest of interactions at the school have him feeling anxious. All the mothers that had flocked around him, the 'too friendly teacher', having to listen to someone fake sincerity when talking about his son's issues. He prefers keeping to himself; the occasional trip into town for groceries or prescriptions or things at the hardware store more than enough to fulfill his desire to be out in the public. Craving solitude; perfectly content to just stay in his own or on his own property. He knows that isn't logical; he needs to be a functioning member of society and the only way to heal some of the past pain and trauma was to get out of his comfort zone. To challenge himself. And he hadn't even realized just how deeply his mental issues effected him until one day the mere idea of going into a grocery store was enough to bring on a panic attack; the thought of the crowd and the noise and having to actually talk to people. 

It's disheartening, to say the least. When you look in the mirror and no longer recognize yourself. He'd thought that it would be different; the job and the horrors that often came with it turning him into a tougher person, not a weaker one. It doesn't matter how strong he was on the outside; on the inside he often feels weak and vulnerable and absolutely fucking hates it. Even at an empty park he can't fully relax; eyes constantly scanning the treeline instead of concentrating solely on his children, attention diverted from them with each car or pedestrian that passes by. He despises it; the seemingly constant state of alertness. By now he'd thought it would be getting better; it's been six months since he's left the job. But it only seems to be getting worse.

Still, he toughens it out; planting a smile on his face, trying his best to acknowledge every time one of the kids yells 'daddy look!', resisting the urge to constantly survey his surroundings. 

He's sitting on one of the park benches -baby laying along his as he feeds her from a bottle he'd brought with him from the car- when his namesake saunters over, yawning loudly as he plops down beside. Lying down on his side with his legs tucked into his core, head resting on Tyler's thigh; reaching out to take hold of the bottle, so his dad can drape his arm over him.

“What's up?” Tyler asks, as he rubs his son's shoulder. “Tired?”

TJ shrugs.

“You wanna talk about what's going on at school? Because what the fuck, mate?”

TJ looks up at him, grinning.

“Don't tell your mom I say that word around you guys, okay?”

“Okay,” TJ agrees, and once against rests his cheek on Tyler's leg.

“You can't do sh...things...like that at school. You can't do them anywhere. Not even at home. I know you get pissed off but you can't freak out like that. Throw chairs and desks and sh...stuff...like that. You just can't. You hear me?”

“I can't help it,” his son says. “I really can't.”

“What do you mean you can't? You know what you're doing, yeah? Well if you know what you're doing, you can help it. You've got to calm down. Take a breath when you feel like that. Ask the teacher to leave the room. We talked about this. More than once.”

“I can't help it,” TJ insists. “It just happens. I just get so mad. I get so mad and I just do things.”

“What makes you mad?”

“I don't know. Lots of stuff. When there's too much noise and I can't hear the teacher. When someone chews their food too loud. When someone says mean things. Not just me but to other people. Makes me want to punch them right in the face!”

“Well let's not go around punching people in the face, okay? You need to learn to calm yourself down. You can't act like that. Not at school, not at home, not anywhere. Do you see me throwing stuff around when I get mad?”

“No. You just yell a lot. And really loud too.”

“Okay, well that's not exactly the best way to handle things either,” Tyler admits. “I shouldn't yell like that. Especially not at your mom. And especially not at you guys. It's scary, yeah? When I yell?”

“A little,” TJ says. “It's a little scary.”

It hurts his heart to hear that; he remembers being a scared little boy hiding in his bedroom closet as his father went on rampages. But he never stopped at just yelling; he took things that extra step, using his fists and his feet and anything he could get his hands on to terrorize Tyler's mother. And eventually Tyler himself. And he swore he'd never be like that. That he would never, ever cause that same kind of torment.

“I hate my brain,” his son laments. “I hate how it works. It doesn't work right.”

Tyler sighs. He can understand that feeling; his own brain is a fucking disaster. He can't help but wonder if maybe some of this is his fault. If maybe he's always been messed up but it didn't surface until he was older. If maybe Austin's cancer and his abandonment of him had been what kick started the whole thing. And if maybe he's the reason why TJ is the way he is. That he's passed down some damaged gene that is causing his namesake the issues he's going through. 

There it is. Guilt. It always finds him. Regardless of the situation. 

“You'll fix it, right daddy?” TJ asks, those blue eyes full of tears as he looks up at him. “My brain? You'll fix it right?”

Tyler gives him a reassuring smile and leans down to press a kiss to his son's forehead. “I'll do my best, mate.”

****

She's in the kitchen when they arrive home, engaged in a heated discussion with someone over the phone. Leaning stomach first against the island, cordless phone pressed to her ear, a pad of paper in front of her, alternating between twirling a pen between her fingers and angrily tapping it against the granite. Declan on the floor between her feet; busily -and happily- emptying out the entire contents of the pots and pans cupboard. And she glances up as they all enter, giving a small, weary smile before turning her attention back to the phone call at hand. 

He sets the baby carrier on the floor and tends to the kids' usual after school routines. It's something so simple and seemingly mundane, yet he likes the simplicity of it. The same thing, every day. Nothing unexpected. He'd spent too many years dealing with that kind of bullshit; things going wrong, having to think quick in order to keep himself (and sometimes others) alive, always having to 'expect the unexpected'. Now even the simplest of things gives him a sense of stability and calm. Even if it is unpacking school bags and cleaning out lunch pails, getting the kids to take their homework outside onto the back porch, and setting them up with the snacks that Esme has already laid out on their favourite coloured plates.

“They put me on fucking hold,” she whispers to Tyler as he steps back into the kitchen, laying a hand on her hip and pressing a kiss to the side of her head in greeting. “Twice! Fucking twice! You should talk to these assholes.”

“You're way scarier than I am,” he teases, and crouches down to clean up the mess that Declan has made; it's the OCD tendencies that have cropped up with the PTSD; a need for cleanliness and organization, which are extremely hard things to achieve with five kids in the house. 

“They're such dicks,” Esme grumbles, and then giggles and directs a kick in his direction when he presses a kiss to the back of her neck, the scruff of his beard scraping against the sensitive skin. “Do you mind?” she squeals and wriggles away when she feels the scratch against the back of her other knee. “And would you get your son out of there? He's been a little shit since we woke up. Getting into everything. Dumping the dog food, dumping the water bowl, getting into the toilet.”

“He's a ginger, what did you expect?” he scoops Declan up off the floor, a hand on the back of that strawberry blond head as he presses a kiss to the toddler's cheek. “Aren't they all trouble?” 

“Well if you hadn't have left me alone with the cable man, he would have been yours,” she retorts, and then gives him a wink and a playful slap to the stomach. 

“Who are you talking to anyway?” Tyler asks, as he slips Declan into his high chair, tightly securing the straps. The kid is fearless and way too smart for his own good; able to get himself out of even the toughest of situations. Tall and solid. Impossibly strong for someone so young. 

“Well I'm not actually talking to anyone right now. But it's the school board. About your son.”

“Yeah....apparently he had 'one of those days',” he makes air quotes around the last four words, then grabs a bottle of water and a cup of juice out of the fridge; handing the latter to Declan. 

“He's been having one of those days three times a week for six months,” Esme sighs, and begins tapping the pen even harder against the counter top. 'And you're telling me that they can't help him? Like that's their bloody job. Hi...yes...hello...” she rolls her eyes as someone finally comes back on the line, her voice sugary sweet but her facial expression clearing indicating she's ready to commit a homicide.

He unbuckles the baby from the carrier and lays her along his forearm, body swaying back and forth ever so slightly as he stands at the sliding glass door watching the three oldest as they huddle together; more chatting and giggling than doing actual homework. He can vividly remember each one when they were as young as the one currently in his arms. It seems like a lifetime ago; bringing Millie home from the hospital, to that little apartment just outside of Sydney, scared shitless about being a father again. He'd never thought he'd get another shot at it; his first time around had ended horribly and he didn't think he deserved another chance at being a dad. He didn't sleep for months after she came home, terrified that something would happen to her if he dare closed his eyes. Obsessively checking on her every on the hour to make sure she was still breathing.

It had gotten a little easier with the twins; he wasn't as anxious and paranoid once Tanner was well enough to be released from the special care nursery. And by the time Declan arrived, he;d hit his stride; much more comfortable with being a dad to a newborn, not panicking if the baby slept through the night, no longer having nightmares of something bad happening to them.

Addie is different though. Impossibly tiny; much more fragile and vulnerable than any of her siblings had seemed. She looks up at him as he holds her, those huge dark eyes locked on his, as if burrowing into his very soul. And he adjusts his hold on her; placing her against his chest, a forearm under her bum, a palm on the back of her head. Pressing a kiss to her cheek and closing his eyes ; enjoying that small moment between him and his daughter. His last child. The smell that clings to her clothes and hair, the feel of her soft breath against him, and how those tiny fists clutch at his t-shirt and she nestles her face into his shoulder.

“I understand that the school is getting frustrated,” Esme says behind him, and he turns to watch her, amused by the way she multitasks; easily moving between activities, never losing her stride. The phone held to her ear with her shoulder, pulling things out of the fridge for dinner, grabbing Declan goldfish crackers for a snack, snagging a bottle of water for herself. “But believe me, no one is as frustrated as we are,” she continues. “We've been waiting four months to get into a developmental pediatrician closer to home and we are not taking our five year old all the way to Sydney to see some biased hack that the board has in its back pocket.”

Tyler grins as he listens to her; feisty, tenacious. Two of the things that he'd initially attracted to. She'd walked into his place in the outback as if she'd owned it, not the slightest bit put off by his dismissive demeanour or the sight of the bottles of medication and booze. A five foot nothing spitfire that weighed a buck twenty soaking wet and handled herself with a confidence most men twice her size didn't possessed. She'd been unlike any woman he'd ever known before. A challenge that needed be solved. Sometimes she still is. Even six years later.

And she's still as beautiful. Even in a simple pair of black leggings and one of his t-shirts, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She's heavier now; breasts larger, hips wider. But she's had five babies. His babies. And that fact makes her even more beautiful in his eyes.

“Listen,” she huffs in exasperation. “You are not going like it if my husband starts handling all this. Because he doesn't have a filter and he won't be as polite as I'm being. So if you'd rather deal with him, that's fine. But the last time didn't go so well for you, did it.”

He smirks and sips his water.

“In fact, he's right here if you want to talk to him. I'm sure he could manage to get through to you. Because you aren't listening to a damn thing I'm saying.” She frowns, then removes the phone from her ear and stares at it. “They hung up on me. Those fuckers.”

Tyler grins. “You just had to drop the big and bad husband card on them, didn't you. You just had to make them shit their pants.”

“Assholes,” she grumbles, and tosses the phone down onto the counter. “I'm tired of dealing with their shit. You deal with it from now on. They'll listen to you.”

“They're not listening to me. They're scared of me. There's a difference.”

“Well scare them then. First they treat our kid like complete and utter shit, then they hang up on me?”

“Want me go down there and kick some ass?”

“I'd say yes if I knew it would do something other than getting you arrested. Ughhh....” she places her hands on his hips and rests her forehead against his chest. “So frustrating! This is bullshit having to deal with this. Why can't they just help him?”

“Too much work, I guess. Too many kids need help and there's not enough people to help them.”

“Now is not the time to be diplomatic, Tyler,” she sighs, then looks up at him. “Hi, by the way.”

He presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Hi.”

“How was she?” she places a hand on the baby's back, rubbing softly.

“Perfect. She was an angel.”

“So was Lucifer.”

“Are you seriously comparing my daughter to the devil?”

“Oh so she's just your daughter now, is she?”

“When you talk shit about her like that she is,” he teases.

“I thought Millie had you wrapped around her finger. This is even worse.”

“She's the last one. Last time we get something like this. I figured I have to enjoy every second of it.” There would be no more. Their home and their hearts full. And it was medically impossible, unless his surgeon had entirely fucked up the procedure.

“You really are very good at the big, strong man with a baby thing,” she muses. “It's a very attractive look on you. Especially now that you look like a sexy lumberjack.”

He smirks. “You and this sexy lumberjack shit.”

“It's true! It's exactly what you look like now.” Almost a full thirty pounds heavier than when they'd first met; thighs thicker and more powerful, wider through the chest and shoulders. His hair short and unruly; the quintessential 'bed head' look. His beard fuller yet not untamed. “I like it,” she says. “It suits you. And you were okay? While you were out?”

Tyler nods.

“I was surprised when I woke up and saw your text. That's brave of you. All those thirsty moms on the school yard. They haven't seen you in a while. I'm surprised you made it home. That no one scooped you up and took you home with them.”

“Were you hoping someone would or...”

“Baby, I'd miss you way too much. Who else would get the spiders and the snakes out of the house?”

“So that's why you keep me around.”

“Well there's other things too. I mean, you are pretty nice to look at it. Every woman deserves her own eye candy. And you're very easy to wake up to in the morning.”

He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You're kinda okay, I guess.”

“Kinda okay,” she laughs, and then smacks him on the ass before heading back to start dinner. “You'd miss me if I was gone.”

Tyler nods in agreement. She has no idea just how much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: LIGHT SMUT

It's shortly before midnight when she joins him outside; just beyond the back fence and gate that he and Ovi had built to keep the kids -or at least attempt to- contained when outside on their own. Their property is private and secluded; just the kind of quiet, and security they'd been craving. Fifteen acres with its own stretch of private beach, a vast area of woodlands to the left, just beyond the guest house that Ovi and Chloe share, and their closest neighbour two hundred yards away. 

In Colorado their 'thing' had been to end the evening out on the porch swing; it was often their only chance to actually carry on a proper conversation without being constantly interrupted by the kids. When they could temporarily stop being parents and just be Tyler and Esme. The therapist had been adamant about it; that they both realize their roles in each others lives far extended raising a family together. That they needed to get back to staying connected beyond the realms of parenthood; important that the connection was not just physical, but emotional as well. At first Tyler had thought it was all a load shit; both what the therapist had said and needing to see one in the first place. That the change of pace and scenery would be more than enough to not only keep the connection between them and make it stronger. Not realizing until they had started sitting down to talk to someone just how fractured things actually were. He'd always thought that things were fine; that they'd gotten past the toughest and darkest spots and that they were nowhere near disintegrating and that if their problems ever got that bad, they'd be able to get through it on their own.

Once they actually started concentrating on things -the way they fought and the intensity in which they did, the horrible things that were said to one another- it became apparent that there was a lot repairing that needed to be done. It wouldn't been easy or a short fix, but at least it could be put back together.

The sand is soft beneath her feet; cool and refreshing as it slips between her toes. The beach itself is relatively unspoiled and remarkably preserved; the old owners never using it, preferring to just enjoy the views of the ocean and the remarkable sunsets. Their road itself hasn't seen children in in over thirty years, and shortly after they'd move in they would routinely find notes and small presents for the kids in their mailbox from residents further down. About how nice it was to them see them out on their bikes or chasing one another, how great it was to hear their shouts and their laughter.

Mac lays beside Tyler on a blanket on the beach, raising his head to watch her as she approaches; giving small whimpering noises -his happy sounds, as the vet calls them-, tail beginning to sway back and forth. He's grown like weed; not even full size yet but massive and strong. But despite the mail man's fear of him, he's surprisingly docile. Growing up with four kids that constantly love on you and never you leave you alone and always sneak you treats will do it. And he's loyal and fiercely intelligent; always sensing when one of his people may need a little bit extra attention. Tyler's arm rests along Mac's back, hand slowly stroking the shepherd's impossibly large ears and scratching the scruff of his neck.

“You need to move,” Esme says, and points to a spot on the sand. “You're in my spot you stinky, hairy beast.”

Her husband doesn't move his forearm from over his eyes. “Are you talking to me or the dog?”

“You're not that stinky,” she playfully retorts, and then once more points to the sand. “Mac, seriously. Move. I know he's your person, but he's my person too and you have to share him.”

All it takes from Tyler is a ruffle of the fur and a “Move, mate” and the dog obliges; sauntering over to his master's other side, the curling up in the sand, making sure that least one of his paws is in contact with Tyler's body.

“Worst behaved dog ever,” Esme grumbles, and sinks down onto the blanket, lying on her side and tucking herself under her husband's arm when he immediately wraps it around her. His hand coming to rest on her shoulder as she places hers on his stomach and rest her head on his chest. It's soothing. The sound and smell of the ocean, the warmth of his body and how solid it is against her, the scent that clings to him; mixture of cologne, laundry detergent, and sweat. It's familiar, but remarkably him.

“Kids asleep?” he asks, and she nods.

“Every last one,” she replies with a content sigh.

It doesn't happen often; the three older ones falling asleep fairly early and easily, while Declan and Addie spend hours alternating who needs the most attention. 

Her hand continues to rub his stomach; she likes the extra weight he carries there now. His body thicker than it was before. Even more muscular and powerful. And she rests her chin on his shoulder and looks up at him, his forearm still over his eyes.

“Tired?” he asks, his palm slowly moving over her shoulder and down her arm, then travelling back up again.

“When am I not tired? Do you and Ovi work tomorrow?”

“Just a few odd jobs. I shouldn't be home too late.”

It had been an easy decision; getting back into doing home renos and general repairs. They don't particularly need the money, a large chunk of the five million left even after buying the house, all the furnishings, and doing repairs and upgrades. But he enjoys working with his hands; the finished results giving him a sense of accomplishment. It keeps him busy and his mind focused on the task at hand, and having Ovi with him meant he could let the kid handle any personal contact with clients and Tyler himself could avoid actually having to interact with people.

Her hand slips under the front of his shirt, finger lightly drawing a circle around his navel, and she feels him shudder against her when she runs a fingertip along the waist band of jeans. 

He clears his throat noisily. “Do you mind?”

“No, actually I don't,” she grins, one finger dipping underneath the denim, then slowly moving along his skin.

“Well you should,” Tyler grabs a hold of her wrist, pulling her hand out of his pants and then entwining their fingers together. “Stop.”

“Like you're not enjoying it.”

“That's the problem. I am enjoying it.”

“It's been three months,” she laments.

Sighing, he nods.

“Three months, fifteen days and thirteen hours,” she clarifies, and he opens his eyes and looks down at her. “What?” she shrugs. “You're not keeping track?”

He grins. “I may or may not have it in my calendar on my phone.”

She laughs at that, then buries her face in his neck; lips pressing a series of soft, feathery kisses on his jaw line, just under his beard.

“Would you stop...” he uses the side of his head to push her away, and shifts uncomfortably against the sand. “....knock it off.”

“You don't miss it?” she refuses to be deterred, her free had coming up to comb through his hair as her lips find the side of his neck, the tip of her tongue trailing over the scar left behind from Dhaka. 

“Of course I miss it. I miss it a fuck of a lot, but...stop...seriously...stop...”

“That's a first for you. I didn't think you knew that word.”

“You need to just calm yourself down and leave me alone,” he grumbles. 

“My hormones are insane,” she pouts. “Like off the charts insane. And it's been three and a half months and I miss you.”

“How can you miss me? I'm right here. Every day.”

“No, I mean I miss you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “You mean in the biblical sense?”

She giggles. “Exactly. What you don't miss me?”

“Of course I do. We just...” the frustration finally gets the better of him and he shoves her over onto her side, then grabs a hold of both of her wrists in one hand before lying down behind her. “...it's too soon.”

“It's been two weeks since she was born.”

“Which is way too soon,” he insists, and pressing a kiss to the back of her head, groaning when she slides closer to him, so that her ass pressed right against his crotch. “Really? Are you serious right now?”

“I think I know my body.”

“Well so does the doctor and he says it's too soon. So...” he has to pull his hips back so no more contact can be made. “...fuck off, already.”

“You're grumpy.”

“I'm not grumpy. I'm horny. And sexually frustrated. And you know damn well what you're doing right now and you need to stop.”

“There's other things we can do,” she reminds him.

“Yeah and I won't be able to stop at just the other things. So please,” he tightens his hold on her wrists and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Stop. Be nice to me.”

“I was going to be very nice to you, But fine...” she dramatically huffs. “...if you want to have to keep studying alone.”

“I think I can handle another two or three weeks of 'studying alone'. That's nothing compared to three fucking months. You going to be good?”

“If you insist.”

“I do,” he says, and kisses her cheek. “Unfortunately.”

He releases his hold on her wrists, lacing their fingers together once again pressing their joined hands against her; eyes closed, face buried in her hair.

****

“I heard you met the hot teacher today,” she comments.

“She's about twenty years older than me but if you think she's hot...”

“You damn well know that's not who I was talking about. I mean Millie's teacher. The little blond thing with big boobs.”

“I didn't even notice.”

“Oh please. You're a guy.”

“I'm a guy that's not interested in meeting other women. So...”

“Your daughter said she was all 'touchy feely' with daddy.”

“She was not all touchy feely. She tried to touch my arm. And give me her phone number.”

Esme scowls at him over her shoulder. “Excuse me, what?”

“To talk about your daughter,” Tyler clarifies. “Because your daughter has a mouth on her.”

“Maybe because she takes after you.”

He snorts.

“She is all you and you know it. I am not taking the blame for her mouth. She is all attitude. Your attitude. She even has the same facial expressions as you. So I am not being held responsible for her being a smart ass. You can deal with that. You can give her shit.”

“I already did. I told her not to be so much like her mother,” he laughs as she attempts to elbow him in the stomach, then lifts his head and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“Millie says the teacher likes you. And that she's going to ask you out on a date.”

“Yeah? Good for her. I like you. So she's shit out of luck.”

“Six years and we're still at the like stage?” she teases. “I thought we'd at least be at infatuation by now.”

He grins. “We are way past infatuation, baby.”

“Do you think she's cute?”

“Who?

She huffs dramatically. “Millie's teacher. Do you think she's cute?”

“I think you're cute.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I wasn't paying attention. I'm not looking to pick up so why would I?”

“You must have noticed if she was cute or not.”

“Baby...” he sighs. “...I'm not looking at other women. I'm perfectly happy with the one I have.”

“So you've never thought about it? Hooking up with someone else?”

“Have you?”

“We're not talking about me. I have no reason to want to find someone to hook up with. Maybe you do. It's been three months.”

“Three and half but who's keeping track?”

“And in that whole time you've never thought about it?”

“Esme, I don't want to fight. I just want to lie here and hold you and talk. Normal talk. Not the talking that leads to a fight. It's too late and I'm too tired. I have never, ever thought about that. Not once in the last six and a bit years. Cheat on my wife because she's pregnant and can't put out? I do know how to jerk off, you know.”

“You said a long time ago it wasn't the same,” she points out.

“It isn't. But that doesn't mean I want to fuck someone else. There's only you. There's only been you since we met. And it's only going to be you for the rest of my life. So stop...” he kisses her temple. “...don't turn this into a thing.”

“I swear if that teacher asks you out on a date...”

“No one is asking anyone out on a date. Your daughter is super paranoid. And she has a fucking mouth on her.”

“Then watch your fucking language around her,” Esme retorts, and they both laugh. After several minutes she rolls over to face him; forehead resting against his, a hand coming out to push through his hair. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“That was a big step for you today. Huge, actually. You haven't been able to anything like that in two months. Especially going into town with that many of the kids with you? At least not without an anxiety attack. Everything went okay?”

“Everything was fine.” He doesn't tell her about the hyper-vigilance being in overdrive; noticing every little sound, every little movement out of the corner of his eye. It hasn't been that bad in a couple of months. Whether he's learned how to control it or if it's actually getting better, he doesn't know. But being that alert and that agitated at the park had not been a good sign. 

“I'm proud of you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I know how hard you're trying. I also know how hard it is for you to go out of your comfort zone like that. And that you it somehow makes you weak; that you have the issues you do.”

He nods in agreement.

“You are far from being a weak man, Tyler. You are anything but weak. Don't let your brain tell you otherwise, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, giving a small, unconvincing smile.

“You're brave whether you see yourself that way or not. You fight against your own mind every second of every day. And you win every time. If that's not brave, I don't know what it is.”

He lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her; long and soft, closed mouth open closed mouth. Then chuckles when she attempts to push her lower body against his, his hand falling to her hip to prevent it from happening. “You told me you'd be good.”

“Then stop being so good at making me want to do bad things,” she responds, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. They're silent for several minutes; listening to the sound of the ocean, feeling each others warm breath against their faces. And he once more places his forehead against hers, a hand on the small of her back.

“What are you thinking about?” Esme asks. “And don't say nothing because your throat always gets tight and you get those creases in your forehead.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff that you don't need to worry about.”

“I hate to break it to you, but your stuff became my stuff when you decided you wanted to get married. So it's technically our stuff now.”

“We're not supposed to talk about the kids when we're having 'us time' remember?”

“I don't think we're expected to totally stop talking about them. That's impossible. We have five of them. One is bound to come up in conversation. And I actually brought Millie up first when I mentioned the hot teacher, so that means you get to mention at least one kid now. It's only fair.”

He grins. “You have weird rules.”

“You expect anything less than weird? Buddy, are you new here? Our house is full of weird.”

He can't argue with that.

“It's about Tyler isn't it.” It's a statement, not a question, and he gives a nod of confirmation. “If we could just get in to see the doctor or find another taking new patients....”

“Maybe the one in Sydney isn't a bad idea,” he suggests.

“You're the one who said it was too far to go,” she reminds him. “And neither of us like the fact that she's pro school and pro pushing medication.”

“I do not want to drug my kid up. He's five.”

“But that's what they're suggesting,” she fidgets with the chain around his neck as she talks. “Or what this doctor told them we should do.”

“He's five,” Tyler stresses. “He's a little boy.:

“I know, but...”

“He's a little boy,” he firmly repeats. “And I'm not letting them turn him into a fucking zombie.”

“I don't know what more we can do without outside help,” she frets. “We've tried taking certain things out of his diet, we've given him supplements, we've given him punishments and choice rewards for good behaviour. So until we get to see who we want...”

“He is not going on medication. We already talked about this. You know how I feel. He's a little boy. My little boy. He's my son.”

“He's my son too,” she gently reminds him. “And you're not the only going through this, remember? We're supposed to be in this together. It's not supposed to divide us.”

“There has to be something else we can try. Even if it means taking him to that doctor in Sydney. Just to see what they say.”

“They're going to say put him on meds.”

Tyler sighs.

“I know you're mad, but...”

“I'm not mad. I'm frustrated. Millie and Tanner are doing fine. They're not having issues. They're doing better here than they were in Colorado.”

“Well, Tyler's different. He feels things differently. He always has. Tanner may be the sensitive one, but Tyler's the intense one. And he's been that way since he was a baby. A lot of emotions inside that little head and body of his. He just doesn't know how to deal with them. Who does that remind you of?”

He stares at her pointedly.

“Don't even try to pin this on me. Millie and Tyler are the ones that are exactly like you. Millie just isn't as intense as you two.”

“He told me today that he hates his brain,” emotions chokes at him as he speaks. It's heartbreaking; to her that your kid thinks they're broken and needs someone to fix them. “That he hates how it works. That is doesn't work right.”

She gives a small, sympathetic smile and lays a hand on the side of his face; thumb running across his lips, knuckles brushing against his beard.

“He asked me if I would fix it. Fix him. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when I can't even fix my myself.?”

“He's not broken, Tyler. And neither are you.”

“What he's like this because of me? What if I passed something along? Like some kind of fucked up gene?”

“That's not how it works. That's not how any of this worlds. You didn't start having issues until you were an adult and started doing the job. It's everything you've done and everything you've seen. It's because you almost died. You didn't pass something down to him.”

“I hate this. For him. That he's going through this and we have no goddamn clue how to help him.”

“It's not that we're not trying...”

“Maybe we're not trying hard enough. There has to be other things out there, yeah? Things we can up on and...”

“Tyler, we have four other kids,” Esme reminds him. “They need us too. And we have a baby. A brand new one. And she needs us...both of us...even more. We've done everything we can for now. And don't even suggest pulling him from school because I can deal with that. Not with Declan and a newborn. There is no way I cope with that. And I already know you won't be able to handle it, so get that thought out of your head.”

“We can hire someone.”

“To do what? We don't even know what's going on with him. We need to find someone that can figure all of that out. You know we can't take on anything else. You need be out there keeping yourself busy and I've got a toddler and a baby to look after.”

“So we call the people in Sydney and take him there. It's something at least. At least someone can look at him and tell us what the fuck is going on. Because this is bullshit. Not knowing how to help him. It's bullshit and it sucks. He's a little boy.”

“If that's what you want to do, we'll do it. If you think Sydney is the best option...”

“It's the only option. Right now at least. I don't want this dragging on and him ending up like me. Because I'm fucked up. I don't want that for him.”

“Okay...first of all...” she shoves him over onto his back, then straddles his waist. “...you are not fucked up. You have some issues, yes. But you're working on them. That's all that matters. Second, I love you. And I'm tired of you shit talking yourself all the time. You're brave and you're strong...”

Tyler rolls his eyes.

Scowling, she takes his face in her hands. “ You are brave and you're strong and so is your son. You're both going to be okay. And you can't convince me otherwise.”

Grinning, he lays his hands on her eyes. “And you call me stubborn?”

“You are honestly the most hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass I've ever met. But...” she runs her hands up and down his chest. It's been six years yet she still hasn't tired of the way he feels; all hard muscle and sheer power. “...you're my hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass. You're stuck with me. Sorry.”

“I can think of worse people to be stuck with.”

“I bet the hot blond teacher isn't one of those people,” she snidely remarks, and then shrieks when he abruptly sits up, wraps an arm around her waist and flips her over onto her back; a hand behind his head to avoid it striking the sand. 

“Fuck the hot teacher.”

“That's exactly what she wants. I mean, I can't say I blame her. That's pretty much all I wanted when I first met you too, so...”

“So now the truth comes out,” he teases, as he kneels between her splayed thighs, and leans over her, hands on either side of her head, bearing his weight on outstretched arms. “Six years later.”

“Six years and two months, actually. But yes. Yes, it's the truth. I totally would have let you take advantage of me the same day we met. In that crappy little shack of yours. I no longer feel shame in admitting that.” 

“You should have just told me then. I would have been game.”

“Oh right!” she laughs. “Hey strange Australian with the nice hair and even nicer eyes, let's fuck,”

“I see absolutely nothing wrong with that,” he grins.

“You would have thought I was a slut. And that would have made working together extremely awkward.”

“Why? We were fucking in Dhaka anyway. Wouldn't have made a difference if we fucked before that.”

“You might have decided you didn't want to do it again.”

“Yeah....right...” he chuckles. “...that totally would have happened. I would have definitely been able to stop at just one time.”

His words make her think of G; that last conversation they'd had in the forest while waiting for Tyler to reach the extraction point with Ovi. Shortly before everything had just turned to pure and utter shit. How he'd playfully teased her about knowing exactly what had been going on in that hotel room for five days; that any single, red blooded male would have jumped on a situation like that and taken advantage of it. And how'd he turned towards her; his face and his tone suddenly so serious.

“He's not going to be able to let you go, you know.”

She hadn't thought much about it at the time. Things were still so new and they still had a long road ahead of them when it came to actually getting to know each other outside of sex. No one know how awful things would go; they all thought they had so much time left. She and Tyler would travel together and see if there was the chance of something real developing; if there were feelings that extended past pure, animalistic lust. And G would return to his wife and they'd start the family they so desperately wanted.

And then everything changed. In the blink of an eye. G never made it out of that forest. At least not alive. And she'd end up spending the next few months practically living at the hospital; getting to know her future husband in the midst of all of the pain and the surgeries and the therapies. And maybe, in a way, things were better because of it. Because they'd started things off in the darkest and most worrisome of places. It couldn't get much worse than the immediate aftermath of Dhaka. Not by a long shot.

“What's a matter?” Tyler asks, when she squeezes her eyes shut.

“I was just thinking about something,” she opens her eyes and gives a reassuring smile. “About someone actually. G.”

He frowns.

“Not like that! Just something he said. When we were in the forest. I haven't thought about it in over six years.”

“What was it about?”

“You, actually.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“It was all good, I swear. He was actually talking you up. Putting in a good word for you. And it must have worked. Because here we are.”

“Yeah...” he grins. “...here we are.”

He leans down to kiss her. Longer this time. Deeper. Not pulling away when he feels her tongue slip between his lips and press against his teeth; allowing his mouth to open and meeting her tongue with his. It's the most intense kiss they've shared in three and a half months; complications in the last trimester making things complicated and worrisome and forcing all thoughts -and need- of sex right out the window. And he feels one of her hands in his hair, the other slipping up the back of his t-shirt, needy fingers exploring his muscles. “You shouldn't kiss me like that,” he's breathless when he pulls away, and shivers when her nails slowly travel down his spine. “Or do that.”

“You kissed me first,” she argues. “So this is your fault.”

“Yeah but you're the one feeling me up,” he points out, back stiffening, teeth biting down on his bottom lip when those nails drift along the small of his back, just under the waist of his jeans. 

“I can't help it. I can't help if if sexy lumberjacks turn me on.”

He chuckles at that, then buries his face in her neck with a frustrated groan. “I don't think it's just sexy lumberjacks.”

“You're right. It's just you in general. And by the feel of things...” she lifts her hips, so her body comes in contact with his crotch. “...you're kind of turned on too.”

“Kinda? There's no kinda in this.”

“There are other things,” she reminds him, as her fingertips -still under the waist of his jeans- slide around to his stomach. “We just can't have actual sex.”

“I told you. I won't be able to stop at just other things.”

“Get it together, Tyler. You're almost forty one. You're more than capable of stopping at the other stuff. Please?” her mouth is against his ear; breath warm against it. And his entire body shudders when she traces the outer edge with the tip of her tongue. “I just really miss you. And I really...really...really need you get me off.”

“You can't do it yourself? I've had to do it myself. For three months.”

“I could. But I want you to do it. Because I miss you and you're so good at. So very, very, very good. Please?” her teeth scrape against his earlobe. “Pretty please?”

“Esme....you know this is a bad idea...”

“How can something that feels this good be a bad idea? We're not having sex. We're just making each other feel good. Wouldn't you rather me do it for a change? Instead of having to do it for yourself?”

“I would actually,” he admits.

“Then...” her lips are on his neck now; kissing, sucking, biting. “...what the hell's your issue?”

“No issue. I just...fuck...” he groans, when her tongue finds that scar on the side of his neck. “...maybe we should go inside.”

“Let's stay here. I can actually make noise out here.”

He grins, then reaches for the ties on the front of her pants. “Very good point.”

Her eyes close and she gives a long, content sigh when his palm comes in contact with her pussy, and he finds her hot and wet; her entire body shuddering when he presses the tip of his index fingers against her clit. She won't last long. He can hear it in her ragged breathing, feel it in the way her entire body tenses, and how her greedy, frantic fingers pop open the button on his jeans. And he groans against her neck at even the simplest of touch; painfully hard and leaking precum, hips jerking against her hand when her thumb brushes over the engorged tip. 

It's like being a teenager again; frantically making out, hoping to get off before being caught, lasting just as long. Only a handful of minutes before she's demanding that he kiss her as the orgasm hits, all noise muffled by his mouth against hers. And when her hand tightens around him and picks up pace, he's coming as well, face buried in her neck as he issues a long drawn out “Fuck”.

Neither of them moves of speaks for what feels like hours, and eventually Tyler rolls over onto his back, a forearm over his eyes, his chest heaving. He'd missed it. Missed her. But it wasn't until now that he realized just how much.

She snuggles into him, an arm across his stomach, head on his chest. And he drops a kiss on the top of her head and softly strokes her back.

“Thank you,” she sighs, and then giggles, and he can't help but laugh. 

“No. Thank you,” he says.

Another sigh, then raises her head long enough to place a kiss to his chin.

He pushes a hand through her hair, letting it fall to the space between her shoulders. “I love you.”

“So that's what it takes to get an 'I love you',” she teases. 

The words come easily to him now, but the first eight months of marriage had been a struggle for him when it came to saying them. His first foray into being a husband hadn't ended well; he'd broken her with his decision to leave while their son was dying, but not before she'd broken him by cheating multiple times while he was stationed overseas. It had made falling in love difficult, but had made expressing it even more difficult. Now he says it all the time. Never missing the opportunity to tel her. And vice versa.

“I do you know,” he says. “Love you.”

“I know you do,” she rubs his stomach softly, smiled up at him. “I love you too.”

He kisses her temple, then tightens his hold on her. Wishing they could stay like that...lying on this beach...forever.


	3. Chapter 3

The clock reads 5:07 am when he snaps awake. Torn from a comfortable, almost pain free sleep by a nightmare. He hasn’t had one in three months; since the images of his wife’s brutalized and violated body in place of Erin Ferguson’s had finally subsided. That one had haunted him every night since returning from New Zealand; having him bolting awake, drenched in sweat, chest impossibly tight and making it difficult to breathe, tears streaming down his face. Those dreams had thankfully stopped just as fast as they began, and from that night on he’d been able to sleep reasonably well when paid didn’t wake him. 

Tonight, he’d dreamt about Austin; the exact same images that he’d seen while dying on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. His tousled blond hair and his steel blue eyes and his sweet, innocent smile. Only this time he hadn’t been alone. Millie was with him and they’d been holding hand as they waded through the surf; talking and laughing as if they’d always known one another. Both smiling as they looked over their shoulders at him, holding their hands out towards them. But when he’d reached out for them, they’d simply faded away, leaving him despondent and heartbroken and calling out for them. It was then that he’d woke; eyes snapping open, feeling the sweat that beads on his brow and gathers at the nape of his neck and the small of his back, his lung fighting to draw a steady breath. 

It takes several minutes for his brain to register his surroundings; the smell and the sound of the ocean trickling through the screens of the wall to wall windows, his wife’s gentle, rhythmic breathing behind him, the feel of her smooth leg pressed against his. She lays on her stomach, comforter pulled up to the back of her head, her bare feet sticking out at the bottom; the same sleeping position she’s had in the six years that they’ve shared a bed. And he rolls over onto his side, fingertips gentle as they pull the comforter down to her shoulders and then brush her hair to the side; lips placing feathery kisses along smooth, warm skin, his palms sliding down her arms. 

She gives a long, content sigh and her hands come up to rest over his; lacing their fingers together and then placing them against her stomach as she wriggles back into him. “What time is it?” she inquires sleepily. 

“Early,” he presses a kiss to her shoulder, then her ear. 

“How early is early?” 

“Quarter after five early.” 

She groans. “What is wrong with you? Why do you insist on waking up at ungodly hours? You’re supposed to be retired.” 

He’s been waking up at the crack of dawn for as long as he can remember, since his military days, and is able to function on little to no sleep. A trait that’s come in handy since having kids. Often the one that gets up in the middle of the night to change diapers and fetch bottles. 

“I told you,” his lips are on the side of her neck now. “I’ve got shit to do with Ovi today. And we have to go into Port Douglas. To my dad’s place.” 

The anxiety nags at him the second he mentions his old man. He’d reached out as soon as they’d moved back to Australia, but his father hadn’t requested to see him in person until a week ago. Sending him a text message in the middle of the night, rambling about things he needed done around the house and how he couldn’t handle them on his own. From what Tyler understood, the dementia was rapidly progressing; he had his good days and his bad days, and required a live-in personal support worker and a nurse that came every second day. He wanted to feel bad about it; that his old man was struggling. But the bitterness is still so raw; all the anger he’s been holding onto since he was a kid, the years he had to listen and watch his father abuse his mother. Abuse that was turned on him when he turned nine and his mum passed away. He can’t get past it; that rage that he hangs onto. The desire to teach the old man a lesson whether he remembers half the shit he’s done or not. 

But he promised Esme he’d give it a shot, that he’d be the bigger man and try to put the past behind him, at least for the sake of his children. The kids deserved to spend time with their grandfather before it was too late, she felt. After all, her entire family -aside from Kyle- considered them dead. Tyler could care less whether the kids ever saw his father, let alone spent time with him. Why expose them to someone that had caused so much agony in the first place? 

“Oh yeah…” she yawns noisily and rubs the side of her face against her pillow. “…and you’re okay with that?” 

“How bad could it go? If things are as bad as his nurse says they are, he probably won’t even remember me. Maybe that’s a good thing; he won’t have a lot of shitty things to say about me or my mum.” 

“Even if they aren’t that bad, don’t let him get to you. He’s a bitter old man who’s so miserable that he wants to make everyone else that way. I thought maybe he was turning over a new leaf when he’d contact me all the time, but…” she shrugs. “Don’t let him get to you, Tyler. Just let it go in one ear and out the other.” 

“We’ve been here six months and he’s called how many times? Twice? And never asked about the kids once? His only grandchildren?” 

“I know it’s easy to take it personally, but if he has dementia, he likely doesn’t even remember even having grandchildren. He might remember you, but he probably doesn’t remember you have kids. I mean, Millie was two months old the first and only time he saw her. And she’s almost six now.” 

A little more than a month away. Until she hits that milestone. And he wonders if that is the reason behind the dream involving her and Austin. That she’ll be turning the exact age he’d been when he’d passed away. Part of him is even scared; that she’ll wake up that morning and be sick and it will turn out to be something horrible she will never recover from. It’s irrational and he knows it; the chances of that happening. But his brain doesn’t exactly recognize the difference between rational and irrational these days. 

“Did the baby wake up?” she asks. “I thought you got out of bed earlier, but I didn’t know if it was for her or if you had pain or…” 

“Around two thirty. I just got her a bottle instead of waking you up.” 

“Baby, you’re the best. You spoil me. You let me sleep through the night, you let me take naps, you help me get off.” 

He smirks. “Three times.” 

“Yes…” she sighs happily. “…a very nice three times.” 

“You almost woke the entire house the third time.” 

She giggles into her pillow. “I can’t help it. You have that effect on me. If you weren’t so good at the things you do, there wouldn’t be a problem.” 

“If I wasn’t so good at them, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“It’s true. I would have had my five days of fun and that would have been it. If you hadn’t known what you were doing, it would have ‘boy, bye’.” 

He chuckles into her hair. “That’s fucking harsh.” 

“Well you had nothing to worry about obviously because it’s six years and five kids later and I’m still keeping you around. You’ve got some skills.” 

“Yeah? You’re decent, I guess.” 

“Fuck you, Tyler,” she huffs, and directs an elbow at his stomach. 

“I wish you could, actually.” 

“Do you even have that in your cell phone? When the dry spy officially ends?” 

“Maybe…” 

“You have absolutely no shame,” she declares, and then rolls over to face him, pecking his lips. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For being you. For being the way you are. With me. With your kids. You put the work in. Without complaining about. You don’t piss and moan when the baby wakes up in the middle of the night or when you have to do dishes or laundry or take the garbage out.” 

“Any man who complains about all that is a little bitch.” 

“You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of little bitches out there. I’m lucky,” she kisses him again. “Very lucky. You help out, and you’re eye candy. What more could a woman want?” 

“A big dick? Oh wait…” 

“See? You’ve got it all,” she laughs and tucks her head under his chin, an arm curling around his neck, fingertips gliding back and forth at the bottom of his hairline. 

He wraps his arm around her, drawing her tight against him, hand rubbing her back in slow, smooth circles. She feels so good; the thin fabric of her tank top against his bare chest, the warmth that radiates from her, the feel of her lips and her breath against his throat. He closes his eyes, finding himself easily lulled back to sleep; the sensation of her fingers against the back of his head and pain in his shoulder and back settling down to a dull manageable ache. Until it’s interrupted by the alarm on his cell phone. 

“Really?” Esme grumbles, as he rolls over onto his back and reaches for the phone. 

“Really,” Tyler sighs, turning off the alarm and then staring up at the ceiling; mentally trying to prepare himself for the day. 

Even with the pain, it isn’t the physically challenges that hold him back. He’s learned to live with it and work through it. It’s all the bullshit that does on inside of his brain. The anxiety, the illogical fears, the hypervigilance. All working together to make it extremely difficult to function as a normal human being. He can’t believe what he’s been reduce to; not even half the man he was six years ago. When he got stare down the barrel of a gun and not even blink. Now there’s moments where he can’t even go into a store without something triggering him and bringing back all the memories and the trauma. 

“Do you really have to get up this early?” Esme asks, as she moves closer to him, resting the side of her head against his chest, her hand on his stomach. 

“I do.” 

“Like you can’t stay in bed for like ten more minutes?” she drags a finger down to the waist band of his boxers. In the beginning stages of things, they’d both preferred to sleep naked; loving the feel of skin pressed against skin. But back then they didn’t have little ones that could sneak up and burst into a room unannounced. Making some clothes a must. 

“Not even ten more minutes,” his hand captures hers, moving it back up to his chest. 

“Fine,” she huffs, and reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair. 

“Go back to sleep,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get the baby if she wakes up. I’ll bring her to you before you leave.” 

“You’re a keeper,” she says with a smile. “You’ve even learned to put the toilet seat down and put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You can teach an old dog new tricks.” 

He grins and slips out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as she moves back over to her side of the bed; tucking one of his pillows underneath her head and then pulling the comforter back up past her eyes, kicking and wriggling her feet until they’re once again poking out from the bottom of the blanket. 

“Be safe,” she says when he reaches the bedroom door. 

An old habit, he supposes, used to saying it every time he left for a job in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning. And it hurts his heart; that she’d become so accustomed to him leaving that those words are now second nature. 

**** 

Ovi saunters up onto the back patio at quarter to six; hair still messy from sleep, eyes heavy. He’s grown considerably since the move, packing on the weight and the muscle: less stress, more eating right and a consistent work out schedule, and hard, manual labour. It isn’t a full time job by any stretch of the imagination, but their clients pay well and Tyler pays even better. Ovi and Chloe can live comfortably, pay all their bills, and never worry about finding themselves in financial trouble. 

It’s become their routine. Sitting out back, drinking coffee and eating breakfast before setting out on the road. This morning neither of them offer a verbal greeting, instead exchanging smiles and nods before Ovi drops into the chair across from him. Both staying silent as they watch the sunrise, the rippling ocean painted in a brilliant, breathtaking golden hue. 

Tyler doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the sunrises and sunsets, the smell of the salt that hangs in the air, the breeze that rolls in off the water. The mountains had been beautiful; it had been one hell of a view from the back deck at their place in Telluride. But nothing compares to this. Maybe he’s biased; he’d spent almost thirty-six years in Australia. It’s home. He’s admittedly much happier here, far more relaxed. The privacy and the seclusion not enough to solve all of his problems, but helping the healing process tremendously. He feels grounded. Secure. As if he’s finally able to put down real roots. Able to raise a family somewhere that feels totally safe. 

Ovi watches the final moments of the sunrise with the rim of his coffee mug pressed against his lips. There’s pure wonder in his eyes; as if it’s the first time he’s witnessed the scene playing out in front of him. Wide eyed and amazed, like a child on Christmas morning that’s rushed downstairs to find the living room covered in presents and treats. 

It reminds Tyler of the first time the kid had ever seen snow. He’d glanced up from the dinner table and had given a loud gasp, eyes impossibly wide, and dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter as he sprung up from the table and out the sliding door. For a half an hour he’d stayed out there on the deck; clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Tears streaming down his face, unable to even form a proper sentence as he let the soft, white flakes fall onto his upturned palms, laughing when they got stuck in his lashes and his hair. Millie joining him and teaching him to catch the them on his tongue. 

After that he became fascinated with anything to do with winter. Throwing himself into helping the kids make snow angels and snow men, even building forts and having snowball fights. He and Tyler would go ice fishing on the weekends, their main bonding time. And he loved Christmas. Not necessarily getting gifts, but giving them. Enjoying the decorating of the tree and putting lights up on the house, and all the delicious food that he’d never been able to experience in India. He was a child again; filled with wonder and excitement, able to forget all about what happened in Dhaka and the trauma he still struggled with. 

“That was an awesome one,” Ovi breathes, shaking his head in disbelief before turning to the plate of food in front of him. Nothing extravagant; some scrambled eggs, toast and a selection of various fresh fruit. 

Tyler nods in agreement, pushing food around his plate with his fork. The meds fuck with his stomach first thing in the morning; often not able to actually eat a meal but resorting to smoothies and supplements to get the calories into him. He likes the weight he’s at now; a little extra around the middle, but larger through the chest and shoulders, biceps and forearms bigger, as well as his thighs. He feels healthier than he has in years, maybe even since before Dhaka. He’d been running on nothing but booze and pain meds back then. And a death wish. Now he concentrates on what he’s putting into his body and how hard he works it. 

Addie stirs in the car seat carrier that sits on the ground beside his chair; the soother tumbling out of her mouth, prompting that tiny whine that comes shortly before an epic meltdown. Two weeks old and she has a temper already; small and feisty, just like her mom. When putting the soother back in doesn’t work, he picks her up; laying her across his forearm, stomach down, her face rubbing against his skin as she settles into him. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Ovi comments. “Make it look so easy.” 

“It’s far from easy, mate. Trust me. Being a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” 

“You don’t make it seem that way, though. You make it seem like you’ve been doing it forever. It’s only been six years.” 

“I just learn as I go along. Pray I don’t screw it up. Or screw them up.” 

“I think you’re doing a good job. A great job, actually. It’s still funny seeing you like this though. As daddy Tyler and not Tyler, Tyler. Do you ever miss it? Miss him?” 

“Not often. But yeah, sometimes I do.” 

He feels guilty for even saying it; as if he’s somehow disrespecting his wife and his kids. But he’d been Ovi’s age when he had joined the army and began building and honing his skills; the ones that he’d taken with him into the job. He'd spent years on the move; being deployed while in the military and then bouncing from job to job, never settling down, never having to worry or think about anything other than his work. Now everything had ended abruptly and with it came a much slower pace, consistency and routine, more responsibility. Not just for himself. But with six people that depend on him. 

“Do you ever want to go back?” Ovi asks. 

“Once or twice I’ve thought about it. But I’d never actually do it. I don’t have it in me anymore. Not mentally. I need to work on myself. Not worry about helping other people. And I kind of love my wife and the life we have together, and I want my marriage to work, so...” he sips his coffee. “I’d never do it. I lose everything. And no job is worth that.” 

“So if something came up, you’d just say no?” 

“Unless it’s a threat to my wife or my kids or you. Nothing will make me go back. What’s going on? Why are you asking me about all of this?” 

“No reason,” Ovi shrugs. “Just curious.” 

“You’re a shitty liar. You always have been. Who’ve you been talking to? Nik? Yaz?” 

“No one!” he insists. “I’ve just been thinking about things.” 

“What kind of things?” 

“Things that I can do with my life. On top of what I do now. I thought maybe if you ever got back into it, I could too.” 

“That’s never fucking happening,” Tyler scowls, and Addie begins to fuss again. Maybe even hearing the change in his tone of voice or feeling the tension that takes root in his body. And he lifts her to his chest, a hand on the back of her head, fingertips gently rubbing in her dark hair. “Not for me. Not for you.” 

“We could build our own business,” Ovi suggests. “We could get the word out, take on clients.” 

“I said no. We’re not doing that. We’re not even going to talk about it. Get that shit out of your head. All it’s going to lead you to is a really fucking dark place. Trust me.” 

“The money is good! You used to say that all the time.” 

“No amount of money is worth not coming home to my family. You’re the last person that should want to get into this. After everything you went through...everything you saw...why the fuck would you want to get involved in that crap?” 

“It was exciting. When you had me take the kids. Being on the run like that. Being responsible for the lives of others. I finally got over being scared of everyone and everything. I want to help people. Just like you helped me.” 

“I didn’t help you, mate. I fucked everything up. I fucked you up.” 

“It wasn’t your fault that things went bad,” Ovi argues. “It was my father’s fault. Not yours. You got me out of there alive. Even when you knew there was no money. And you almost died doing it.” 

“And I don’t want you almost dying...or dying...trying to solve other peoples’ problems. We can’t save everyone. No matter how much we want to.” 

“I just want to give back all the good I’ve been given.” 

“Find something else to do then. Feed the homeless. Work at an animal shelter. Volunteer somewhere. Do anything that would make you feel good. But fuck the job. Don’t even think about it. You want to mess things up with Chloe? Because that’s how you’ll mess things up with her.” 

“It didn’t mess things up with you and Esme.” 

“Like hell it didn’t. We split up for six months. You know how close it came to her filing for divorce? You know how close I came to barely seeing my kids? It was a goddamn miracle she took me back. And I still kept doing the job and I still kept making promises I never kept and I still keep abandoning her and my kids. You don’t think that hasn’t caused problems? That I don’t pay for my shitty decisions every day? We see a marriage counsellor, for fuck sakes.” 

“Chloe said she’s fine with it. That if that’s what I want to do...” 

“You actually talked to her about this? About becoming a mercenary. Are you fucking serious right now? Why the hell would you do that?” 

“She’s part of my life. I can’t make a decision like that without talking to her about it.” 

Tyler frowns. “You’ve actually been thinking about this? For how long?” 

“I don’t know,” Ovi shrugs. “Couple months, I guess.” 

“A couple months?! And you’re just bringing this up to me now?” 

Addie begins to cry in earnest now; startled by him raising his voice. And he pushes his chair away from the table and stands up, a palm against the back of her head, the other patting her back as he sways his body back and forth in an effort to calm her. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispers harshly to Ovi. “Why would you even think about doing the job?” 

“The excitement. The danger. The...” 

“The danger is exactly why you shouldn’t want to do it. You saw what happened in Dhaka. You were right there the entire time. Why would you want to put yourself through that? And never mind that, why would you want to put Chloe through that?” 

“You and Esme...” 

“Don’t even bring Esme into this. I’ve screwed up. A lot. I’ve made a lot of mistakes that could have ended my marriage. We have to see a goddamn therapist to try and fix things. Is that you want? You want to screw up someone else’s life? Because that’s exactly what you’d be doing.” 

“But if she’s okay with it...” 

Ovi is interrupted by the sliding glass door opening; Esme holding it so Declan...in just a diaper and a t-shirt and his hair sticking up in all different directions...can toddle through. 

“Sorry to interrupt, guys,” she gives a tired, sheepish smile. “But someone woke up wanting daddy.” 

Little arms wrap around his leg and Declan rubs his forehead against Tyler’s jeans before looking up at him with a huge pout on his face and those blue eyes rimmed with red and filled with tears. 

“What’s a matter mate?” Tyler asked. “What did the mean lady do to you?” 

“He was pissed because I had to change his diaper before I would bring him down here to see you. If one of them could not have your temper that would be great,” Esme helps herself to a sip of his smoothie. “Is she okay? Want me to take her? Just so this one...” she lays a hand on Declan’s head. “...doesn’t pitch a fit because he’s jealous?” 

“She was just a little unsettled,” he says, handing his daughter off and then scooping Declan up onto his hip. Running a hand over his strawberry blond hair, pressing kisses to his cheeks; letting him grab at his ears and his beard and anything else he can get those little hands on before sitting down and settling him on his lap and helping Declan feed himself the leftover food on his plate. 

“Oh typical,” Esme grumbles, and sits down beside Ovi, settling Addie against her chest and laying the side of her head against her daughter’s. “He knows daddy will give him ‘big people’ food. And you wonder why he’s going to be six six and two hundred and fifty pounds when he’s sixteen.” 

“Don’t listen to the mean lady,” Tyler says to his son. “You’re going grow up and be big and strong and kick some major ass.” 

“Ass,’ Declan repeats, and shoves scrambled egg into his mouth. 

“Oh, way to go Tyler,” his wife sighs. “You couldn’t leave one all innocent and sweet. Don’t you dare think you’re going to be teaching my last one any of your potty words.” 

He grins. “She’s going to be the worst one of them all. It’s always the small ones you’ve have to worry about.” 

“Your dad talks a lot of nonsense,” Esme says to the baby, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a bad influence. He already has your sister beating up kids on the playground and using the F word.” 

“She’s got a hell of a right hook,” Tyler says, and Ovi nods in agreement. “She messes up her brothers.” 

“We don’t want people messing anyone up this house. Don’t pay attention, Addie. You’re going to grow up sweet and kind and never hurt a fly.” 

Tyler snorts. “Not if she’s your daughter she won’t.” 

“Can you believe I put up with him? That I willingly do this every day? Listen to that mouth?” 

“It’s the other things that I do with my mouth you like,” Tyler says, and shoots her a wink across the table. 

Ovi nearly spits out a mouthful of coffee. 

“Oh god...innocent ears...” she places a hand over one of Addie’s ears, and then a hand over one of Ovi’s. 

“Yeah, he’s not so innocent. He’s probably getting it more than I am.” 

Ovi bites down on his bottom lip and shakes his head in embarrassment. 

“You’re not used to this yet?” Esme laughs. “You know what he’s like. You’ve lived with him for five years now. You know the crap he talks about. Only the strong survive in this house.” 

Ovi wipes his hands on the thighs of his jeans and holds his hands out in a request to hold the baby. He’s always been a natural; taking on the role of a big brother the moment he’d first laid eyes on Millie when they’d travelled to Mumbai and stayed at the Mahajan house. Lending a helping hand in taking care of the kids whenever Tyler was out of the country on a job, never shying away from dirty diapers or spit up. He is a calming presence. Never raising his voice or showing any signs of nervousness of anger. And Addie snuggles right into him, one of her hands gripping his shirt, her head against his shoulder. 

“This is nice,” he smiles. “Babies are nice.” 

“Remember that they’re always nicer when their someone else’s,” Esme says. “So you don’t end up with one of your own way before you’re ready for it. Because they’re sweet and they’re cute but they’re a lot of work.” 

Tyler nods in agreement. 

“So no kids, okay?” Esme tousles Ovi’s hair. “I’m not old enough to be a grandma. Give it a few years. At least. Okay?” 

He nods in agreement. 

“So what were you guys talking about? Things looked kind of intense when I came in.” 

“Just stuff,” Ovi shrugs. “Nothing important, really.” 

“For something that wasn’t important, you two looked like you were going to get into it about something. Everything alright?” 

Both Ovi and Tyler nod. 

Her eyes narrow. “What aren’t you guys telling me?” 

“It was no big deal,” Tyler gives her a reassuring smile. “Just normal talk. Guy talk. Nothing serious.” 

“Well I’ll let you guys get back to your guy stuff,” she says, ruffling Ovi’s hair once more before standing up. “I’ve got school lunches to make and bags to pack. Ughhhh. Is it the weekend yet?” She places her hands on Tyler’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek before heading inside. 

“Whew...” Ovi breathes a sigh of relief. “...that was close. I thought she’d hear for sure.” 

“Don’t ever bring the job up again,” Tyler’s voice is calm and even, his attention fully on the toddler in his lap. “I don’t ever want to hear it come out of your mouth. That’s not something you want to get involved in. And it’s not something I’m letting you drag me back into.” 

“I wasn’t saying I was going to do it,” Ovi attempts to reason. “Just that I thought about it.” 

“Well don’t think about. You’re too good for that. Way too good for it. Go back to school if you want. I’ll pay for it. I’ll support you no matter what you do. But not if you do that. You go into the job, I can’t have your back. I just can’t. I can’t just sit on the sidelines and watch you kill yourself. Understand?” 

Ovi nods. 

“You deserve so much better than that life. So does Chloe. And I wish every day I never got back into it. That I’d just walked away for good. It would have saved me a whole lot of hurt. It wasn’t fair to Esme. Or my kids. And that’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Trust me, kid. You do not want that guilt on your shoulders.” 

It will always be there. He knows it will. He’ll spend his entire life looking for absolution that will never come.


	4. Chapter 4

While it is a more peaceful existence, it is often a lonelier one. The safety and security of seclusion at times feeling like isolation. Their property…their home itself…is beautiful beyond anything she could have imagined; surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature, the dense and lush woodlands and the pristine beach and majesty of the ocean. Aside from the noise and activity of their own residence, they are very much shut off from the rest of the world; two hundred yards from their closest neighbour, tucked at the very end of a three kilometer stretch of recently paved road. Weeks can pass by before she even sees another human being, let alone speaks to them. There’d been scares and complications during the last three months of her final pregnancy and she’d had to relegate herself to living the life of a ‘shut in’ for the sake of both her health and that of her unborn daughter; never leaving the property aside from specialist appointments. Addie had been an incredibly determined little girl; wanting to make her debut long before it was safe for her to do so. It had been nothing short of a miracle when the doctors had managed to tide things over until week thirty-four, and everyone that had been providing care had thought she’d been in the NICU for the long haul. Only for her to prove them all wrong; being released after only a week and a half. 

A fighter. All five pounds, ten ounces of her. 

Normally Esme would spend the first part of her morning -after the older kids had been shipped off to school- on the beach; Addie in the carrier strapped to her body, Declan toddling along beside them, allowing him to stop every so often to splash and stomp in the water or play in the sand. Today they walk the road instead, Mac’s leash secured around her waist, one hand pushing the baby in her stroller, the other tightly gripping Declan by the wrist. He is quick and has no fear and won’t think twice about bolting into the woods or onto someone else’s property. 

The pavement is hot but comfortable against their bare feet. It was one of the things that she had found so unusual at about Australia at first; no one ever seemed to wear shoes unless going into businesses, and even then, occasionally footwear would be noticeably absent. It is one of the charming ‘quirks’, going hand in hand with their laid-back natures and accents and hilarious slang words. An entirely different way of life; a refreshing and welcoming change of pace. Everyone seeming much more relaxed and calmer. Friendly. Always willing to help one another out, whether friends or strangers. And while Colorado had been lovely in its own right, it often felt too ‘fast.’ That life was constantly hectic, barely given you a chance to catch your breath, never mind admire your surroundings. Everything about Australia is incredible to her; the scenery, the people, the way you just take time to enjoy everyone and everything around you. 

But it is still lonely at times. Outside of her own family, she doesn’t really have a life; no relatives that can visit, no friends to talk to or hang out with. It has been that way for years; long before she’d ever met Tyler. Once her first marriage had disintegrated, she’d begun the long and arduous journey of ‘rediscovery;’ more than content with the job she had, jumping from place to place, and living out of suitcases, never forming bonds, or putting down roots. She’s older now though; almost thirty-six. And lately she’s found herself craving more. She had thought that she was perfect content with just being a wife and a mother, but her heart has begun to yearn for something extra. Mom friends that she can talk to whether it be face to face or through a text, other women she could have lunch dates and engage in ‘girl talk’ with. Needing to be more than that someone’s spouse. Someone’s mother. Needing…wanting… to exist outside of the comforts of those two realms. 

And she feels guilty for that. As if she’s taking every thing she already has for granted. That she is makes her selfish for wanting more and she should just be happy with the way her life already is. She has a lot more than a lot of women in the world: a supportive, loving, and helpful husband, five beautiful and amazing kids. Shouldn’t that be enough? 

**** 

It is a beautiful morning. Brilliant sunshine, the sky a vivid shade of blue and cluttered with enormous, pure white clouds. The temperature is always cooler where they are; a few to several degrees lower thanks to the abundance of trees and the winds that roll in off the ocean. And she is comfortable in a pair of tattered and weather jean shorts and a hoodie over her t-shirt, one of her husband’s ball caps pulled low over her eyes. It’s become a habit that she wishes she could break herself of; a hat used more for disguise than a cute accessory or protection from the sun. That paranoia still lingers; that there could always be someone out there watching, hell bent on revenge and looking for the perfect opportunity to enforce it. 

The walk is slow going; Declan routinely stopping to investigate things, whether it be rocks and sticks he finds particularly interesting, or wildlife that lingers at the tree line that he wants to watch. He is infinitely curious about the world around him, noticing everything and anything, big or small. He hasn’t met and animal or person he hasn’t liked, and vice versa. Out of the five, he’s the ‘charming’ one; able to melt hearts with those striking blue eyes and mischievous smile. Extremely affectionate and loving to everyone he meets, even old ladies in the grocery store who always seem to be enamoured by the thick red hair and the outrageously long eyelashes. While Esme may be biased -as all mothers are- he is just damn cute. A sweet little personality to go along with an even sweeter face. And she can’t resist pausing to take pictures of him with her phone; so adorable in his backwards baseball hat, loose tendrils of hair sticking out at the ears. 

She sends one of the photos -of Declan holding a baby garter snake and flashing that trademark smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes (his father’s smile)- to her husband’s cell, along with a text that reads: see what cute babies you make? 

The house closest to them has been up for sale for three months; a one-story white stucco place with elaborate Japanese inspired front gardens and an interlocking brick driveway. The property itself is much smaller that what they own, but no less stunning. She notices that not only has the ‘for sale’ sign been taken down, but there’s a bright blue Suzuki hatch back in the driveway; tailgate up, surrounded by boxes being unloaded by the home’s new owner. A tall, statuesque blond with vibrant pink, purple, and aquamarine highlights in her shoulder length tresses. And she watches -albeit briefly- as the woman continues to remove items from the back of the car. The couple that had lived there before had been in their eighties and absolutely hated kids and would complain about Millie and the twins ‘running wild and unsupervised’ in the road despite the fact that their father would have been less than ten feet away. Never directing the complaints to Tyler himself, but waiting until they’d see him leave and then knock on the door to confront her. So it’s nice to see someone younger. That hopefully won’t be such a miserable asshole. 

The front door of the house has been left open and a pug comes waddling out; immediately noticing them at the end of the driveway, which starts off a round of barking from both the smaller dog and Mac and absolute excitement from Declan who begins repeatedly shrieking ‘oggie!’ and tries to yank his wrist out of her grasp. He’s incredibly strong for a little guy; heavy, solid, and powerful. And Mac -still barking yet thankfully not bolting- parks himself right in front of the toddler to block his path. 

The woman in the driveway smiles and waves to them in greeting, and that’s when Esme makes the ultimate mistake; letting go of her son’s hand to wave back. He seizes the opportunity; taking off up the driveway the second he feels his mother’s grasp release. 

“Oh my god Declan! Get back here!” she bellows, and unleashes Mac from around her waist, allowing the dog to chase after him. At the most he’ll grab the toddler by the back of the shirt or knock him to the ground. He’s done it before with each one of the kids; showing an incredible instinct -and with no training- to protect the little humans. “Declan William!” she hollers as she hurries after him and the dog. The latter now making friends with the initially startled pug; the new homeowner scooping Declan up and settling him on her hip. 

“Well hey there cutie,” the blond gushes, gently taking hold of his hands as he tries to tear the unique and colourful glasses off her face. “Who are you?” 

“This is Declan,” Esme responds. “And he’s not usually this much of a shit head, I swear.” 

“You’re just a curious little man, aren’t you! You just wanted to come and meet Stan-Lee. Here, let me introduce you…” their new neighbour drops down to one knee and places Declan on her thigh, taking his hand in hers and then running it over the pug’s fur. The toddler giggling with the dog licks at his hand. “See that? He likes you already! He loves to meet new friends. Especially little ones.” 

“I am so sorry,” Esme can feel the blush in her cheeks. “I’m usually not that stupid. Letting him get away like that. Especially on the road. Although no one but us ever comes down this far. We used to get people that would speed down here and park on our property to get into the woods. But we own all that, so my husband went out and scared the crap out of them with a hunting rifle and they never came back. You must think I’m a shitty parent.” 

The blond waves off the mere suggestion. “Not at all. They get away sometimes. No matter how hard we try to stop them. Not to mention he’s crazy strong! Two? Two and a half?” 

“Seventeen months. I know. He’s absurdly tall. But so is his dad. I am sorry he ran over like that. Bothering you and your dog and…” 

“It’s no bother. Honest. I’m Salena,” she offers a hand, and Esme accepts it warmly. 

“I’m Esme. And that’s Mac,” she nods at the German Shepherd as he playfights with the pug. “It’s actually Macaroni. Don’t ask. My son named him. And this is Adaline,” she gestures to the stroller. “Be we call her Addie.” 

“Is this your little sister?” Salena speaks to Declan as she places him on the ground and takes him by the hand, leading him to the stroller. “How about you show me your little sister. I bet she’s a cutie, just like you. May I?” she asks Esme, taking hold of the corner of the blanket that covers the buggy. 

“Of course.” 

She peels the blanket back, then places a hand over her chest. “Oh my gracious! Look at you, pretty girl! Aren’t you just a darling! You’re just new.” 

“Very new,” Esme confirms. “Only two weeks.” 

“And you already look like that?” Salena looks over the top rim of her glasses as she eyes Esme from head to toe. 

“Please! The clothes hide everything, trust me. I’m huge. And I feel gross.” 

“You’re crazy! You look amazing. Are these your only two?” 

“No. There’s three more,” she says, and the neighbour’s eyes widen. “Five-year-old twin boys and a soon to be six-year-old daughter. I know,’ she laughs. “I’m crazy.” 

“I just can’t believe that body’s had five kids. Five’s the limit?” 

“Four was the original limit but by husband wanted one more. I don’t know who is more insane. Me or him.” 

“Well if these two are as beautiful as they are, I can only imagine what the other three look like. The red hair comes from your husband?” 

“His mother. Declan’s the only one with it. The other three are blond. Or light brown. Whatever you want to call it. And the last one is all me. Which I feel I deserved after having four that look and act exactly like their father. All that work and getting fat and I don’t get one that looks like me? That is some bullshit.” 

“Would you like to come in?” Salena inquires, nodding towards the house. “I have a breakfast casserole in the oven, and it is way too much for just one person, even with leftovers.” 

“We shouldn’t. We were just on a walk before lunch and we don’t want to impose or…” 

“You won’t be imposing at all. We can sit out back and chat some more. You’re the first person I’ve met since moving to Cookstown. I was staying a hotel right in town while waiting for the house to close. It would be nice to have a friend that’s close by.” 

It’s tempting, and as much as she loves the idea of having a friend…especially a neighbour…she knows Tyler will be hesitant. He’s severely overprotective. Beginning after Dhaka and becoming increasingly worse over the years, hitting its peak after the McMann incident. In his mind, everyone is a possible threat. Including the neighbour with the funky glasses and the colorful hair. 

“Just stay for a little while,” the other woman urges. “Just for something to eat and a little chat. I don’t bite. I promise.” 

“It’s not that and it’s not you, believe me,” Esme attempts to explain. “This is going to sound really weird, but things went really bad before we moved here and I’m a little…apprehensive…when it comes to new people. It’s not personal. I swear. It’s all my own issues.” 

“I promise I am not a serial killer. Just come in and have some lunch and let me spend some more with this cutie pie,” she tickles Declan’s stomach until he’s giggling hysterically and beaming up at her with the utmost adoration. “Just an hour,” she says. “If I bore you or I annoy before then, you can leave. I won’t hold you hostage.” 

“Okay,” Esme finally agrees, as Salena scoops Declan up once more and leads the way towards the house. 

**** 

He receives the text message just as he pulls his truck up in front of his father’s new place; a small, cottage style bungalow in a newly established retirement and nursing care community in Port Douglas. It had been bittersweet when he’d eventually found out that the old man had sold the family home. The years there hadn’t all been horrible; there’d been a handful of good memories made between those four walls. That house was the last physical tie that Tyler had had to his mother, and the new owners had bulldozed it with plans on custom build for the lot. The demolition had finally erased all the dark secrets that the place had once held. All the cruel words, all the tears, all the holes in the walls, all the beatings. 

Killing the engine, his pulls his cell from the side pocket of his cargos and checks the message. A slow smile spreading across his face when he sees the picture of his youngest son, and the words that his wife had sent afterwards. If there is one thing they excel at, it’s making beautiful children. And the activities that help with the actual creation of them. He texts her back, telling her that they’ve just reached his dad’s place and have two stops afterwards close to home. That he loves her and the kids and will see them soon. 

He begins to ask where she is but decides against it. It will only irritate her if she feels as if he’s keeping tabs on her and attempting to control her. She claims he’s overprotective to the point of suffocation, something that the therapist had said they’d touch on in the next session. Why he is the way he is and what he can do to either control it or stop it altogether. Tyler doesn’t necessarily want to be that way; he doesn’t want her to feel as if he’s locking her away in the house and controlling every move she makes. But he’s already come so close to losing her. Twice. And he doesn’t want to take the chance of there being a third time. 

So he doesn’t ask. Even though it gnaws at his stomach that she’s out there. Off the property. With two of his kids in tow. Instead he pockets his cell, pulls the keys from the ignition, and then finishes the coffee that sits in one of the cup holders between the front seats. 

“How are we going to explain me?” Ovi inquires. “Am I just going to be some guy that you hired or…?” 

“He already knows all about you.” 

“How much does he know? Or what does he know?” 

“Your folks were friends of mine and Esme’s, they died, left us you in their will. Nice and simple. It doesn’t need to be complicated.” 

The lying never stops. Not when it comes to the old life. To the old Tyler. But at this stage in the game -with his father not functioning properly in the first place- he doesn’t see the need to burden the old man with the truth. Chances are he’d be extremely pissed and/or disgusted and wouldn’t even remember what he’d been told the next day. 

“And you think he believes it?” Ovi asks. 

“Mate, I don’t even know if he knows who I am anymore. Chances are he doesn’t even remember I have a wife and kids. Or that I even told him about you already. But if he asks, that’s what we tell him. Got it?” 

Ovi nods. 

Tyler opens the compartment between their seats and fishes out the extra bottle of anti anxiety meds. It’s always smart to have them on hand; never knowing what situations or environments will bring on an attack. But he can already feel the heaviness in his chest and the dryness in his mouth, and he takes three of the pills and places them under his tongue, waiting for them to full dissolve before putting the bottle in his pocket. 

It’s a hell of a way to live. Having to dope yourself up just to be able to get out of the goddamn car. 

And he’s plain fucking sick of it. 

**** 

The personal support worker greets them at the front door; a short and stocky Aboriginal woman clad in brightly patterned scrubs and bearing a name tag that identifies her as Maggie. She as kind, almost sad eyes, and a soft, pleasant smile and her grip is deceptively strong when she shakes their hands. 

“You must be Trevor,” she addresses him. 

“Tyler,” he gently corrects, and removing his sunglasses, hangs them on the neck of his t-shirt. 

She offers an apologetic smile. “He told me he was expecting someone named Trevor.” 

“Trevor was his brother. My uncle. He died twenty years ago. But I’m Tyler. His son.” 

“This happens, you know,” she sighs. “Moment when they can’t remember the people in the present, but they remember the ones from the past. It isn’t personal. It’s just the disease. It’s a cruel thing; what it does to people.” 

He nods in agreement, trying to at least appear sympathetic. But he feels nothing. No empathy. No pity. No sorrow that his father is slipping away. No regrets that they’ve let the years go by without even attempting a reconciliation. 

“You just moved back, I hear,” Maggie comments, as she leads them from the front foyer and towards the back of the house. “Were you gone long?” 

“Five and a half years.” 

“That’s a long time to be away from home. What made you come back?” 

“I came into some money and I was able to retire early,” Tyler explains. It’s not a total lie; that part did happen. It just wasn’t as easy as he’s making it sound. “My wife and I decided this was the best place to raise our kids.” 

“Well I can’t argue with that. Is this them?” Maggie pauses in the hall between the living room and kitchen, nodding at the frame photographs on the wall. “Your kids?” 

It’s their school pictures from last year when they’d still been in Telluride. Before they’d ever heard of Michael McMann. And one of Declan when he’d just been a baby; not even crawling or walking yet. 

Tyler nods. “They’re a year old now. And we added another. A little girl. Two weeks old.” 

Maggie arches an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you have five kids?” 

“Yup.” 

“Five kids,” she breathes and shakes her head. “Boy, you’re either both brave as hell or you’re both just plain crazy.” 

“Maybe both?” Ovi suggests, and then laughs when Tyler directs a playful elbow into his stomach. 

“I actually have six kids,” Tyler says. “If we count him,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “When he’s not being a smart ass.” 

Maggie looks Ovi up and down. “You’re one of his…” she nods at Tyler. “…kids?” 

The young man nods. 

“And just how does that work? When you look like you do…” she looks at Tyler, then at Ovi. “…and you look like you do.” 

“They took me in,” Ovi explains. “Six years ago. After my parents died. It was in my mother’s will. That I was supposed to go to Tyler. So…. here I am.” 

“Here he is,” Tyler confirms, and tousles Ovi’s hair. “Congratulations. It’s a boy. All six foot one and two hundred pounds of him.” 

“He’s not my father, but he is my dad,” Ovi says. “And that’s good enough for me.” 

Maggie gives a slow nod of agreement, and then once again leads the way down the hall. “Your father insisted we put those pictures up as soon as he moved in. He’s extremely proud of his grandkids.” 

Tyler doubts it. On both counts. 

“He’s having one of his ‘okay’ days,” she says. “Woke up knowing what day is, what month, what year.” 

“But thinks his dead brother is going to show up,” Tyler tosses out. And again, nothing. Not even the slightest hint of sadness. The man doesn’t deserve any. Not after the life he’s lived. Not with all the things he’s said and all the things he’s done. 

“He may have just screwed the name up,” she suggests. “I mean, you’re his son. He obviously knows your name.” 

“I haven’t been his son in a long time,” Tyler says. It doesn’t hurt to admit. It just is what it is. In the same way that Ovi may still bear the Mahajan name, but his father had stopped being a part of his life a long time ago because of his own selfish and evil choices. Just as Tyler’s old man had destroyed their relationship with the use of a belt or a fist or whatever else his father could get his hands on. 

“You’ll always be his son,” Maggie’s tone has a scolding tone to it. “He helped give you life.” 

“That’s about all he did. He knocked my mum up. That’s it. I know you mean well, but you shouldn’t be lecturing about how things are between him and I. I lived with him. You didn’t. So how about we just cut the chit chat and you mind your own business.” 

She holds her hands up un surrender, then nods towards the sliding glass door that leads out onto a small patio. “He’s out there. Likes to sit in the sun and listen to the birds. He’s a very sweet man. Very gentle. Very good to us.” 

Tyler gives a derisive snort. It will be a cold day in hell before he acknowledges any of those traits. Because before the old man’s brain started going on him, he was a tyrant. Controlling and manipulative. Drinking far too much. Treating his mother like a slave and then degrading her and beating her if she dared stand up for herself. And when she’d died, all that cruelty and abuse had been turned onto his only child. He could forgive what his father had done to him, but there’s no goddamn way he’d ever forgive him for what he’d done to his mum. 

**** 

His father sits in an old porch swing; frail and sickly looking, a far cry from the man he’d been the last time Tyler had seen him six years ago. When he’d still carried himself with a hint of cockiness and superiority; shoulders still broad, eyes still icy and intimidating. He’s a shell of his former self, and Tyler almost hates himself for viewing this as a form of karma. That after years of treating people horribly, the old man has been reduced to needing help from complete strangers to perform even the smallest of tasks. 

“William, “ Maggie speaks from the doorway. “You have company. Your son and your...” she looks at Ovi for clarification as to just who he is. 

“Grandson,” Tyler finishes for her. 

“Your son and your grandson are here,” she continues. “They’ve come to visit.” 

Tyler gives her a small, appreciative smile and then waits until she steps back into the house and shuts the door before turning to Ovi. “Why don’t you go and find that list he supposedly made of the things we need to fix. Probably on the fridge or the kitchen table or...” 

“TV,” his father speaks up. “It’s by the TV.” 

Tyler smirks. “Go check there. See what you can do on your own. I’ll be in in a few.” 

Ovi nods, then gives a nervous smile and a small wave when he notices Tyler’s father watching him, a puzzled look on his face. 

“Go on,” Tyler encourages. “I need a few minutes here.” 

“Okay,” Ovi agrees, and slips back into the house. 

“Hey dad,” Tyler greets, as he grabs one of the patio chairs and places it facing the swing, sighing heavily as he sinks down into it. “You know who I am right?” 

His father nods, then leans forward and takes a hold of Tyler’s chin, turning his face to one side, then the other. “They let you keep that fur in the army?” 

“I’m not in the army anymore. I haven’t been in it for a long time.” 

“The war is over? They sent you home? From Afghanistan?” 

“I was in Afghanistan sixteen years ago. The war’s been over for a while. That one at least.” 

“So you’re home now?” 

Tyler nods. 

“I don’t know if I have enough room here for you. There’s not a lot of space. I had to get rid of the old place and downsize and...” 

“Dad, I have my own place to live. In Cookstown. With my wife and my kids.” 

He looks puzzled. “You have more than one now? When did that happen? Wasn’t Sarah just getting ready to have Austin?” 

Tyler sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. “Sarah and I haven’t been together in a long time. Since Austin died. That’s almost sixteen years ago now.” 

His father cocks his head to the side, confusion in his eyes and lining his face. “It is?” 

“I got married again. You were at the wedding. In Sydney. Same little place you and mum got married at. Near the opera house.” 

“Tiny little dark haired thing?” 

“Esme. You made a joke about her having a weird name.” 

“Esme...Esme...” his eyes squint as he tries to remember. “...cute wee thing. I like her. She’s a sweetheart. You’re still married to her?” 

“Six years and counting. She’s still putting up with me somehow. Do you remember meeting your granddaughter? Amelia? I brought her to the old house.” 

His father nods. 

“She’s going to be six in a couple months. I’ve also got twin boys that just turned five. Tyler and Tanner and another boy that’s seventeen months, Declan. And we just had another baby two weeks ago. A little girl. Adeline.” 

The old man smiles. “Your mother’s name.” 

“We call her Addie for short.” 

“That’s nice. Real nice. That you named her after your mother. She loved you so much, you know. Your mother. You were her pride and joy. The light of her life. I’d never seen her so as happy as she was the day you were born. She was a good mom to you. A real good mom.” 

“Yeah....” Tyler clears his throat noisily, trying to rid himself of the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his windpipe. “...she was.” 

“She’s a good mom? Your wife?” 

“She’s an incredible mom. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. Or for a better woman to give me children.” 

“Six years?” his father asks. That you’ve been together?” 

“Six years and a couple of months,” Tyler confirms. “I haven’t screwed this one up. Not yet, anyway.” 

“Must be a good woman. A strong woman. To put up with the likes of you. You’ve always been a handful.” It isn’t said with malice; there’s a soft smile curving the old man’s lips. 

“She keeps hanging in there. Keeps giving me another chance every time I screw up. Which has been a lot, unfortunately. But she never gives up on us. On me.” 

“Don’t let her get away. You’ll regret it if you do. And treat her right. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. You’re better than that. You always have been. You’re better than me. Thank Christ.” 

“Well I guess that’s one thing I do have to thank you for,” Tyler muses. “Showing me how not to be.” 

“And you’re back home? In Australia?” 

“We were in Colorado. We just move back six months ago. We should get you out to the house. You’d love it. It’s right on the beach. Awesome spot. And you’d get to see Amelia again. And meet your other grandkids.” 

His father smiles. “I’d like that.” 

“Maybe for Amelia’s birthday,” Tyler suggests, and then stares down at his hands; palms up, studying all the callouses and scars that years on the job have left behind. 

There’s so much he wants to say. Things that he needs to get off his chest in regard to the nightmare that he’d lived through growing up. He wants to punish his father; make him feel even the slightest bit of regret and remorse for all the things he’s said and done. 

But he doesn’t. Because whatever he says will never come close to the torment that’s always taking place in father’s broken mind.


	5. Chapter 5

“So how did you end up here?” Salena asks, as they lounge on her back deck, sipping sparkling water infused with fresh fruit and enjoying the view and the sound of the ocean. With a steady wind blowing though, the waves are impressive, perfect surfing conditions. Mac and Stanlee are asleep and curled up together in the sun while Declan is tucked tightly into the new neighbour’s side, comfortably napping with his head resting against her. “In Australia?” 

Esme settles back into her chair, Addie -awake and content- laying along her arm. “My husband’s Australian.” 

“But how did you end up here? You’re obviously not from Oz.” 

“I’m actually a long way from home. Well, what used to be my home. I’m originally from Colorado.” 

“From the snow and the mountains to this,” Salena nods towards the ocean. “That’s quite the change in scenery.” 

“I’ll take this over the snow and mountains any day of the week. We used to live here. We actually met here. My husband used to live in Kimberley. We got married here, our oldest was born here. We used to live just outside of Sydney.” 

Salena gently combs her fingers through Declan’s hair. “And you moved back to the States?” 

“Because of work. My husband’s work. He was contracted out a lot. Constantly travelling. So we thought it would be a good idea to be closer to my family, in case I ever needed something while he was out of town. He just thought it would be a good idea to have people close by. Just in case.” 

Her neighbour nods. “How did you two even meet? Colorado and Australia are pretty far apart. And on two completely different sides of the world.” 

“We were working for the same company and got contracted out to the same job.” It’s a vague explanation, but it’s the truth. 

“What kind of company? Sorry!” she laughs, and Declan gives a small jump but doesn’t waken. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I’m just trying to get a read on you. You’re a hard person to read. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“I may have heard it once or twice,” Esme admits. Or a dozen. A side effect of the job, she supposes. Years of pretending to be someone she wasn’t to get what she wanted ….and what others needed…out of people. Being herself had never been an option with Mark; he was too busy trying to tear her down and turn her into something and someone she wasn’t. It had taken a lot of work, and a phenomenal amount of patience, on Tyler’s part to get her to be herself -her true self- with him. In the same way she’d had to work long and hard at breaking all his walls down. 

“If it’s a trust thing…” 

“It’s not that. I mean it is,” Esme attempts to explain. “In a way. It’s not something that comes easily to me. The job I was in…the other people who were in it…it was complicated, and they were complicated. It’s engrained in me. Not connecting with people. Which is really sad and pathetic, I know.” 

“It doesn’t sound sad or pathetic,” Salena assures her. “It sounds like someone who’s used to getting hurt.” 

“That’s part of it, I guess. My ex-husband was a complete and utter dick. Abusive in every way you can imagine. When I got away from him, I swore I was done with men. That I’d never again trust one, let alone get married again. Well, I think it’s obvious that didn’t last.” 

Salena laughs at that. 

“It was private security,” her eyes are on the infant in her arms, a soft smile on her face as she uses a fingertip to push the thick, dark tresses off of Addie’s forehead. “What we were contracted out to do. That’s how we met. Through work.” 

It’s not that simple of course; it wasn’t as innocent as two people connecting at the water cooler or making eyes at one another across a meeting room. It is much more complicated. Twisted, even. But it’s definitely not the kind of love story to be telling the neighbour the first time you meet her. Not to mention Tyler would lose his mind if he found out she was telling a total stranger the details of their old life. 

“And you just sort of clicked, huh? That sounds cute. Kind of romantic, even.” 

Esme laughs. “It was far from cute or romantic. Let’s just say that lust was the driving influence and leave it that. He was pretty hard to resist. He still is.” 

It makes her smile; that even after six years and five kids, even the simplest of kiss or look from him can still take her breath away. 

“So you ended up hooking up through work, got married, started off in Australia and ended up Colorado.” 

Esme nods and sips her drink. “Then he came into some money and was able to retire and we decided to come back here. We figured it was the best place to raise our family and grow old together. Somewhere quiet and fairly secluded. Safe.” 

“You guys have a hell of a spot, that’s for sure. Definitely perfect for a family. I remember when it went up for sale. I took a look at it but was way to big just for Stanny and I. Not to mention it was way out of my price range. But it’s an incredible place.” 

“We love it. It’s everything we could have possibly wanted. Or even dreamed of having. I wish we’d come back sooner. It would have avoided a lot of drama and solved a lot of problems.” 

“Well what’s the saying? Hindsight is twenty twenty? No sense looking back. Just keeping looking forward. Mind you, it took me a long time to practice what I preach. I didn’t make a lot of good decisions myself. With my personal life.” 

Esme moves the baby to her chest; pressing a kiss to her daughter’s temple before placing a palm on the back of her head for support, then gently guiding it down to her shoulder, other hand softly patting her on her diapered bum. “Bad relationship?” 

“Same as you. Bad ex-husband. Mine wasn’t abusive, but he had addiction issues. I tried for three years to help him. But you can’t help anyone that won’t help themselves. No matter how much you love them and want to save them.” 

“Some people can’t be saved,” Esme reasons, and Salena nods in agreement. “I learned that the hard way. And I’m sorry you had to, too.” 

“It’s nice to find someone that ‘gets it’. That knows what it’s like to live with someone like that. How it isn’t as easy to get away like most people think. Don’t they think we would if we could? Get the hell out? If it was that simple, wouldn’t we have left a long time ago?” 

“I would have left the second Mark started his shit. The very first time he ever raised his hand to me. But I thought I loved him and that we were meant to be and all that other stupid shit we believe at first. I thought I could help him and change him and that everything would be great. And the worse it got, the more I thought I could help. I guess I thought it made me a failure if I just gave up and walked away. Not to mention I have a mother that put that crap in my head but that’s besides the point.” 

“Are we sisters from another mister?” Salena gives a dry laugh. “Because our mothers sound one in the same.” 

“I can’t believe I actually thought he was a decent person at first. I mean, looking back at it? The signs were all there that he was a dick! But I was young, and I thought him being controlling and protective was just his way of showing he loves me. I was so goddamn stupid. It’s infuriating! Especially now that I know what real love feels like.” 

“And what does it feel like?” 

“It’s hard to describe. You just feel it. Every time they smile at you or they do something so unexpected and sweet for you. Or when you’re feeling gross and ugly and all you have to do is look at the way they’re looking at you. Or how they make you feel like you’re the most important person in their entire world. I know that sounds like a bunch of bullshit, and I always thought it was too. Until I actually started experiencing it.” 

She’s never thought about it before. All the things…big and small…that remind her every day that just how loved she is. The soft forehead kisses or the ones to the temple. The tight, strong hugs that feels as if they’re capable of solving any problem. Or how he always covers her up with a blanket if she manages a nap on the couch or outside in one of the recliners. How he’ll get up in the middle of the night even she is the feeding the baby; fetching her a snack and something to drink and then staying awake with her until Addie is ready for sleep again. 

It’s all the thing you don’t realize are happening until you sit back and take stock of them. Those tender moments that you’d never expect from a big, strong, and often intimidating man. 

“Well, you’re lucky,” Salena says. “Very lucky.” 

“I am,” Esme smiles. “I don’t think I realize it often enough. You sort of take it for granted. That they’ll just be there doing these things.” 

“Until one day they’re not.” 

Esme nods. She’s already come close to that. Mere minutes from away from not having the life that she does now. Had the ending in Dhaka gone different, she would have been back in Colorado, alone, when she was expecting Millie. Her daughter would have never known her father, and none of the kids after her would even exist. And it’s a sobering thought. 

“I hope I get to experience it one day,” Salena muses. “That kind of love.” 

“I never thought I’d find it. I’d give up that decent men even existed. It happens when you least expect it, trust me. I did not take that job thinking I was going to meet my future husband. Or that I’d end up with five kids.” 

“Are you going to make it an even half dozen?” 

“Oh hell no,” Esme laughs. “We are done. We’ve closed up shop. Five is enough. And first, after the twins, we thought three was enough. Apparently, we changed our minds. Twice.” 

“I don’t know what your other kiddos look like, but this guy…” she smiles down at Declan. “…is a cutie pie. I could just sit here snuggling with him all day, I swear. What a cuddle bug.” 

“Well you’re more than welcome to borrow him from time to time. Because this momma needs a break some days.” 

“Anytime you need that break; you just send him this way. Because he is just too freaking precious.” 

“He probably needs a break too. He’s a little jealous of his baby sister. And his big sister and brothers like to torment him. They’re going to have to be careful. Because he’s going to be huge and strong and lay them all out one day.” 

“He’s definitely a big boy,” Salena agrees. “But so goddamn cute. I mean, look at those eyelashes. They go on for days.” 

“He gets those from daddy. All the kids have them.” 

“I used to run a day care,” she says. “So I have the experience. I’m not joking when I say you can bring him here. He’d be in good hands.” 

“I may just take you up on that. It’s fine when my husband’s home because he doesn’t think twice about jumping in and doing it all himself. These two alone can wear me out. Never mind when the other three aren’t in school.” 

“Well think about it. I’m more than willing to tame little man off your hands when you need me to.” 

“I will,” Esme promises. “Think about it.” 

Salena smiles, then leans down to press a kiss to Declan’s forehead. “I do I hope I find it one day. That love you’re talking about.” 

“You will,” Esme assures her. “When you’re not even looking for it.” 

**** 

It’s four thirty by the time they arrive home; covered in sweat and grime after a long day of working hard in the sun. Ovi had fallen asleep only five minutes into the drive home; snoring lightly, head resting against his window. Now Tyler nudges him awake; gently, so as not to startle him enough to jump clear out of his skin. He’s been having sleep issues for years as well; night terrors, bouts of insomnia, easily frightened and startled if woken up too abruptly. And he raises his head from the glass, blinking several times as he tries to orientate himself with his surroundings; a frown on his face, a hand rubbing at his stick neck. 

“What we talked about this morning,” Ovi begins, as he climbs out of the truck and follows Tyler around to the tailgate. “About the whole job thing.” 

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that anymore,” Tyler toes off his dirty work boots, dropping them into the bed of the pickup. “In fact…” he yanks his t-shirt over his head, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck. “…I thought I said we’re not talking about it again.” 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ovi says in way of an apology. “Or bring up bad memories.” 

“Yeah? So why’d you even bring up then? Did you think I was going to be okay with it?” There’s a gym bag with a change of clothes in the bed of the truck, and he pulls out a tank top and slips it on. Then steps out of his filthy cargos and climbs into a pair of board short. “You thought I’d say it was a good idea?” 

“I thought you’d at least listen,” Ovi admits. “That you of all people would understand.” 

“Understand what?” Tyler gathers up the dirty clothes, bunching then and rolling them together before heading up the driveway. “That you’re a fucking idiot for even thinking about it?” 

“You thought about it once. You went into it.” 

“Yeah, because I was a fucking idiot.” 

“If you’d never gotten into the job, you never would have met Esme,” Ovi points out. 

“She has nothing to do with this. Don’t bring her into your bullshit.” 

“It kind of has everything to do with it. Without the job, there’d be no Esme. And without Esme, there’d be no kids, so…” 

“Don’t use my wife and my kids as an excuse for making a shitty ass decision. Don’t use them to justify something stupid. I’m one of the lucky ones. I managed to stay alive. I managed to get the hell out and have a normal life. Or whatever normal is. Do you know how many guys actually manage that? To survive? To get out and have a wife and kids?” 

Ovi shakes his head. 

“Ten percent. If that. And the ones who do get married and start having kids and are still in the job? Most are divorced. Most don’t ever see their kids. Why the hell would you want that for yourself?” 

“It would be a good opportunity.” 

He tosses the dirty work clothes into the laundry basket that sits next to the door that leads into the house. “A good opportunity for what? Getting shot in the fucking head?” 

“To prove myself.” 

“What the hell does going into the job prove? Other than you’re an idiot. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. There’s nothing to prove. You know what kind of guys go into the job? The ones who don’t have the fucking brains to do anything else. Or the ones who like to kill or get off on it. The ones who have nothing left to live for and don’t care if they catch a bullet or not. I was that guy. That’s why I did it. Because I was too much of a coward to pull the trigger myself, so I figured why not just let someone else do it.” 

“And the money…” 

“Fuck the money. It was never really about that. That was just a bonus if I managed to survive. You are too good for this. For the job. Way too good. And you deserve more than that. A better life. Don’t get caught up in that bullshit. Don’t end up like me; fucked in the head. You think I want to be like this? Have these issues? Have to drug myself up every day just to function? You think this is how I want to live? I can’t go back and change things. I can’t take back all the ways I hurt my wife. All the lies I told her, the promises I never kept, the times I left her when she needed me the most. I fucked up. I should have left the job after Dhaka and never went back.” 

“But this time would be different,” Ovi insists. “We’d be working together. We’d be in charge.” 

“And what the hell do you know about the job? Other than what you saw in Dhaka. Name one thing you know about it that didn’t come from watching me.” 

“I don’t know…” Ovi shrugs, scratching at the back of his head. 

“You know shit about that job. Keep it that way. It’s a horrible fucking life. Don’t do that yourself. And especially don’t do that to Chloe.” 

“She thinks it’s a good idea. That it’s something I should try.” 

“Then you go back to Chloe and you tell her I said she’s just as stupid as you are.” 

“Where are you going?” Ovi asks, when Tyler opens the door to step inside the house. “We’re not done talking about this.” 

“Yeah, we are. Or at least I am. Now I’m going inside, and I’m going to kiss my wife and spend time with my kids. Don’t bring this up again.” 

And with that he disappears into the house, slamming the door behind him. 

**** 

She’s on the back patio, pulling clean laundry from a massive wicker basket that sits on the ground beside her. Folding clothes of all sizes and neatly arranging them -according to person- on the table. And she looks up at him as he steps through the sliding door, flashing that smile that still manages to make him weak in the knees even six years later. 

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t home until later. How did…?” 

Placing his hands on the sides of her face, he kisses her. Long, slow, and deep. Until she’s standing her tip toes and her body is leaning into his. He’d been dying to do it all day; since he conversation with his father. After he’d talked about just how lucky he was to have someone like her. Not just as his wife and the mother of his children, but as his best friend, partner, lover, and confidant. The one person in the world that knows all his deepest and darkest secrets yet never judges or condemns him for them. Who he can be himself with, even at his weakest and most vulnerable. Who knows what kind of fucked up mess he is and still sticks around, giving him chance after chance. 

She gives a long sigh of approval when the moment ends, her forearms resting against his chest as she smiles up at him. “Mmmm…what was that for?” 

He pushes his hands through her hair, letting them fall onto her shoulders and down her back, coming to rest on her hips. “I need a reason to kiss my wife?” 

“That wasn’t your usual ‘hey, I’m home’ kind of kiss. That was something entirely different. Kiss me like that again.” 

He obliges; hands tightening their grip on her and pulling her against him, her palms sliding up his chest and over his shoulders and settling at back of his neck as she eagerly returns the kiss. Giggling and pulling away when his hands slid down to her ass. 

“Okay…now that’s just wrong,” she scolds. “That is taking things way too far and you know it. Why do you insist on torturing me like this?” 

“Believe me, I’m torturing myself just as much.” 

“If you want to call two blow jobs in one night torture….” 

He grins, hands back on her hips as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I thought I showed you how grateful I was. Twice. Or did you forget about that part? Me returning the favour?” 

“Oh trust me, you don’t forget orgasms like that. And can we stop talking about this? Because you smell so good right now and you’re all sweaty and dirty and just when I think my hormones cannot get any more out of control then they are already are…” she places her hands on his chest and tries to push him away; he’s all rock solid muscle and doesn’t even budge. “…you need to step back like ten feet before I just say to hell with what the doctor said and jump you right here.” 

“I probably wouldn’t stop you,” he admits, and then laughs when she reaches for the waist of his shorts. “But, it’s not a good idea.” 

“You’re the worst,” she pouts dramatically and returns to the laundry. 

“The absolute worst,” he agrees, and kisses her temple before journeying over to the bar fridge in the corner, taking out two bottles of water, uncapping both and handing one to her. “Where’s the kids?” he asks, as he drops into the chair across from her. 

“The baby is in her crib asleep and Chloe took the rest of your feral offspring down to the water.” 

“Chloe, huh?” 

“What’s the matter with Chloe?? You never had a problem with her watching the kids before. I thought you liked her.” 

Tyler shrugs. “I can take her or leave her.” 

“Well I think Ovi would appreciate a little more enthusiasm from you. Dd you he tell you that they’ve been looking at rings?” 

His eyes narrow, bottle of pressed against his lips. “What kind of rings?” 

“Engagement rings. I guess they’ve been talking. About the next step.” 

“He just turned twenty.” 

“I know,” Esme sighs. “But they’ve been talking about it. I told him that if he’s going to ask, they should make it a long engagement. Not to rush into actually getting married. I mean, they’re already living together so they’re getting the opportunity to see what marriage is like in a sense.” 

“Don’t encourage them.” 

“I’m not encouraging it. If he’s going to get her a ring, he’s going to do it regardless of what either of us say. It’s not we can tell him what to do.” 

Tyler scowls. “Why the hell not?” 

“Because he’s twenty years old, that’s why. He’s an adult.” 

“Barely.” 

“Regardless, he’s is a man now and he’s going to do what he wants. And apparently what he wants is to marry her. Hopefully later, rather than sooner. We can’t stop them, Tyler. It’s going to happen whether we think it’s a bad idea or not.” 

“It’s a fucking terrible idea,” he growls. “I know you like her, but…” 

“It’s not that I like her or dislike her. It’s that I love Ovi like he’s my own and I just want him to be happy. And if Chloe is who makes him happy…” 

“How does he even know?” Tyler challenges. “She’s like the second girl he’s ever been with for fuck sakes. How does he know there’s not someone out there that might make him even happier?” 

“You were only the third guy I’d ever been with and I knew you made me happy,” she points out. 

“That’s not the same thing and you know it. We were both in our thirties when we met. We were old enough to know exactly what…and who…we wanted. He’s barely out of his teens and he wants to get married? Fuck that.” 

Esme smirks. “Is your problem with Chloe or marriage itself?” 

“If I had a problem with marriage do you think I would have even asked you? Or stuck around for six years? And if you even think of saying something like ‘you stick around for the kids’ I will lose my shit.” 

“Okay, you are getting a little too wound up. I meant it as a joke. I obviously know you haven’t stuck around just for the kids. Just like I already know this is about Chloe. Why’d you ever agree to let her move here with me if you didn’t like her?” 

“Because I knew he wouldn’t come with us if I didn’t.” 

“Because you want him to be happy, right?” 

“Of course I do. But I also wanted him where he belongs. With us. He wasn’t ready to live away from us and you know it. He’s still not. Yet you think it’s perfectly fine that he gets married?” 

“Tyler, I don’t want to fight about this.” 

“I’m not…” he sighs heavily, then lowers his voice and softens his tone. “…I’m not fighting. I just think it’s bullshit. It’s way too soon and he’s nowhere near ready for that kind of thing.” 

“Which…” she steps around to his side of the table, softly rubbing his shoulders before curling her arms around his neck and perching herself on his thigh. “…is why I told him if he does ask her, he needs to take the next part slow. That he doesn’t need to rush things. That he should just enjoy being engaged and planning things. And he said he would. So…” she kisses his cheek. “…why are you so wound up over this?” 

“I’m not wound up.” 

“This bulging vein in the side of your neck…” she runs a fingertip down it. “….says you are wound up. What’s going on? All of a sudden you have a hate on for Chloe? I thought you liked her.” 

“I never said I liked her. I said I was okay with her. There’s a difference.” 

“Well can you at least rein it in a bit for tonight? Because I sort of…kind of…invited them for dinner and…” 

“Oh for fuck sake,” he grumbles. 

“…and I thought we could cook down on the beach. Nice and casual. Relaxed. And judging by the tension in your shoulders, you could use something casual and relaxed. Are you okay? This it not all about Ovi and Chloe.” 

“It’s just been a long day,” Tyler reasons. “A lot of hours out in the sun and I’m tired and sore and now I have to play nice with Ovi’s…whatever the hell she is.” 

“If you play nice for me, I will play nice for you. Later. When all of the kids are asleep.” 

He smirks. “Are you trying to bribe me?” 

“I don’t know. Does bribery work on you?” 

“You’ve used it before on me and it’s worked,” he points out. “You really do have all the power. You know exactly how to get what you want.” 

“Oh baby, you don’t know the full extent of my power,” she teases, and kisses him, her fingers combing through his hair, nails digging lightly into his scalp and dragging all the way down to the nape of his neck. “Are you okay? You seem a little…I don’t know…on edge.” 

“I’m fine. It was just a really long day. I’m tired, I stink…” 

“I like your stink,” she nestles her face into the side of his neck. “…and it’s not a stink. It’s just how you smell when you’ve been working hard. It’s…you.” 

“Fuck you’re weird.” 

“But you love me.” 

“Yeah,” he rubs her back. “I do. For some goddamn reason.” 

“Did it go that bad today? At your dad’s? I thought you would have said something when you first got home, and I didn’t want to pressure you into talking about.” 

“Things went fine. We got everything done we needed to.” 

“That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it. Did you actually talk to him?” 

Tyler nods. 

“And? How bad is he? The dementia?” 

“Well he told his nurse that I was his brother who died twenty years ago if that’s telling you anything.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” she nuzzles her nose against his neck and softly strokes the hair at the back of his head. “I know we were told it was bad, but it’s still a blow to see it for yourself.” 

“I felt nothing. When I saw him. When I talked to him. I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel pity, I didn’t feel regret. I felt nothing.” Fuck, it sounds horrible to his own ears. Has his own mental health actually come to this? That he’s become emotionally absent? That he just has nothing left to give anyone else? Is it really possible to be that empty inside and still be alive? “How fucked up is that? How fucked up am I? That I felt nothing? What the hell is wrong with me?” 

“Nothing is wrong with you, Tyler. You don’t owe him anything. Not after everything he put you through. What he put your mother through. You have nothing but pain and bad memories because of him. You’re not fucked up. You’re just…hurt.” 

“I didn’t even feel that. And I thought I would. Or that I’d be angry. And I wasn’t. I just sat there. I just sat there and talked to him and that was it.” 

“What did you talk about? Just regular stuff or…?” 

“A whole bunch of things. Us. The kids. He seemed happy that we named the baby after my mum. That I finally did something right with my life in his eyes.” 

“You’ve done a lot right and you know. Just because he can’t see those things, doesn’t mean they never happened. You know what they are. I know what they are. That’s all that matters.” 

He nods in agreement. 

“And you can say you feel nothing, but I know you do. I know there’s a lot of anger there. And you have every right to feel that. I just don’t want it destroying you. You don’t have to hold that in, you know. It’s okay to be pissed off. You had a shitty childhood. He made your life hell. No one will judge you for being angry.” 

“I just need to go in the gym and beat the shit out of the heavy bag for half an hour and I’ll be fine.” 

“Then do it,” she encourages, pecking his lips before tousling his hair and sliding off his lap. “If that’s what will make you feel better.” 

“Well there’s something else that would make feel even better than that, but we can’t do that yet, so…” he stands up and lays a hand on the side of her face, kissing her softly before drawing her into his arms once more; one hand on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

He drops a kiss on the top of her head and squeezes her tightly. “Everything.”


	6. Chapter 6

He’s been sober for six months, two weeks, and four days. 

Completely cutting out all alcohol had been difficult. Far more than he’d thought it would be, the withdrawal both brutal and eye opening. He’d never considered himself an alcoholic, or even acknowledged that he had even the slightest bit of an addiction to booze. But the side effects of quitting had told him otherwise. Seventy-two hours of a near crippling headache, heart palpitations, extreme nausea and vomiting. Even excessive sweating and tremors in his hands. It had been a huge wakeup call. The realization that his drinking had been taking over his life and he hadn’t even been aware of it. That had he not stopped and continue down that path towards complete and utter dependency, he would have lost everything that mattered to him. 

Most days and weeks he handles it well, too busy to even think about drinking, let alone indulge in it. They keep no alcohol in the house to avoid any chance of temptation, and Esme had quit right after she’d found out that they were expecting Addie and had vowed to never touch the stuff again. It was something they could do together; serving as one another’s support systems. 

Yet there’s times where he does crave it. Not necessarily a need, but a want. And it’s not overwhelming; he’s not desperate enough to drop everything and run out to the store and stock up on booze. Just a lingering taste for it while spending time out in the sun or after a long and tiring day of working outside. Or when something or someone is irritating him to the point of needing an escape...even a mental one...from them. 

Tonight is the latter. He’s agitated; with Ovi’s sudden interest in the job, with Chloe’s romanticizing of the life and putting it in his head that there’s something he needs to prove and that getting into it would somehow make him ‘more of a man’. As if somehow insinuating that Tyler himself is less of one because he’d walked away. It’s bad enough that there’s times he views himself that way; that he’s broken and damaged and not even half of the person that he used to be. And he tries to ignore those thoughts; to remind himself that it’s just his fucked up brain talking and that the one person in the world whose opinion matters to him, doesn’t see him that way. In her eyes, he’s even stronger for being able to recognize his issues and walk away. That he’s more of a man for choosing his own wellbeing and his family over the job. 

For the most part he’s been able to ignore his growing resentment for Chloe. Everything suddenly seems to annoy him; from the way she dresses to the way she laughs, even the sound of her voice. Electing to avoid her company in favor of spending time with the kids; in and out of the water with them, helping them dig in the sand, taking them for walks to look for shells and beach glass. Listening to them chattering on about their respective days at school, offering up the appropriate comments, laughing at the right times, and asking the questions that gets them talking even more. He loves hearing those little voices; the Aussie accents that are already beginning to creep in, the sounds of their laughter, the way they tease and bicker with one another. They each have their own very distinct personalities but are so alike in other ways; appearance, mannerisms, facial expressions. And he cherishes his time with them; teaching them to surf, taking them fishing and camping, those midafternoon naps when they’re all curled up next to him on the couch, lying on the beach once the sun sets and watching the stars with them, even reading the same damn bedtime stories over and over again. Because those moments are fleeting; they’ll grow up fast and become independent and then spending time with mom and dad won’t be exciting or fun anymore. 

He’d stayed silent through dinner –cooked over open flame on the beach- and tried not to snap at every little stupid thing Chloe said or her annoying, high pitched laugh, or the way Ovi waited on her hand and foot and looked at her as if she was the most incredible woman on the planet. Irrational of course, seeing as that's how he’s been looking at his own wife every day for the past six years. But since the job conversation with Ovi, everything Chloe related just bugs the ever-loving shit out of him. Prompting him to jump at the chance to be the one to put the kids to bed. Dragging his feet through the entire nighttime routine; baths, teeth brushing, reading stories, tucking them in. Hoping that if he stalls long enough, Chloe and Ovi will be long gone and he won’t have to worry about playing nice anymore. And he’s disappointed –and even more irritated- when he still finds them there, sitting on the back patio, Chloe on her second bottle of wine. 

“Everyone asleep?” Esme asks, as Tyler drops into the chair beside her, then leans in to press a kiss to her temple. 

He knows she can sense just how on edge he actually is; years ago, words had stopped being necessary and they’d become able to read one another’s facial expressions and body language. And she gives him a soft, reassuring smile and leans sideways in her seat, resting her head against him, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. 

“Everyone except this one,” he says, and nods down at Addie as she lays along her mother’s arm; so tiny and so perfect. A mixture of everything that’s good about him and everything that’s amazing about his wife. He feels blessed. That he’s been given this opportunity five times; to help create another human being. And he brings his hand to the side of his wife’s head as it lays against him and kisses her temple once again. 

“She’s probably waiting for you. She always falls asleep better for daddy. These kids are traitors. All of them. Can’t I be someone’s favorite?” 

She’s smiling as she says it, and he takes the baby from her, settling Addie against his chest; a forearm along her back, palm supporting her head. And his free hand takes a hold of his wife’s, lacing their fingers together and placing their joined hands on his thigh. It will keep him grounded. Calm. If he can feel her. 

“This was really nice,” Chloe gushes, as Ovi curls an around her shoulders and she leans into him. “Being able to spend time together like this. We should do it more often.” 

Tyler wants to tell her that there’s no fucking way he wants to make it a regular occurrence. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods and places a kiss to the side of Addie’s head and tightens his hold on Esme’s hand. 

“Well things get busy,” his wife says, and then winces and directs a light kick to the side of his calf when he grips her hand a little too hard. “With the kids and their things and stuff we need to do around here. There’s not a lot of time to spare.” 

“I could help out more,” Chloe offers. “With the kids.” 

“It’s okay,” Tyler speaks up. A little too quickly and harshly. Earning a glare from Ovi and a clearing of the throat from Esme. “We’ve got it under control,” he adds, and then attempts a smile. 

“Well I’m not far,” Chloe gives that laugh that grates on his nerves. “You know where to find me.” 

“She’ll be fine.,” he says. “We’ll be fine. But thanks.” 

Chloe gives a tight-lipped smile; she knows she’s being dismissed. 

Silence descends on the table, uncomfortable and tense. The only sounds the rustling of the trees surrounding the property and the waves rolling onto the shore. Esme shifts uncomfortably in her seat, reaching for a now lukewarm cup of tea that sits in front of her, and Tyler loosens his grip on her hand and repeatedly his fingertips along the smooth, cool metal of her wedding band. There’d never been the need or desire for anything more; his proposal had been nothing more than a simple ‘marry me’. It simply isn’t their style; grand, elaborate gestures and expensive pieces of jewelry. 

“So did Ovi tell you about his business proposition?” Chloe asks, and Tyler feels his entire body tense. This is not how he wanted Esme to find out; he’d planned on bringing it up to her when all their guests had left and the kids were asleep and he’d already given her two or three orgasms in a way to relax her and ‘lighten the mood’. 

“Chloe...sweetie...” Ovi is clearly uncomfortable with the subject now at hand. “This is not the time to talk about this.” 

“What do you mean? This is the perfect time! We're all here. Together. There couldn’t possibly be a better time.” 

“What business proposition?” Esme asks, glancing between her husband and Ovi. “What’s going on?” 

“Ovi had an amazing idea,” Chloe gushes. “About him and Tyler going into business together.” 

“Okay...” Esme sounds suspicious. “...but what kind of business?” 

“The job,” the other woman says it so cheerfully, as if that kind of career is so normal. That accepting money and putting your ass on the line for strangers -and even killing people- is the most natural thing in the world. 

“The job?” Esme frowns. “As in what Tyler used to do? That’s what you’re talking about, right? Being a mercenary? Because that’s what I think of when someone says ‘the job’.” 

“This is really isn’t a good time,” Ovi mumbles. “This could have waited. Until a different night.” 

Tyler shakes his head and forces himself to look away from both of him, dragging his top teeth over his bottom lip; feeling the rage that begins to simmer inside of him. Concentrating on that little body that’s pressed tightly against him; those tiny fists that tightly grip his t-shirt, the smell that clings to her sleeper, the softness of her hair against his palm. 

“What the hell is going on?” Esme asks. “Why are you two even talking about the job? Never mind that, why are you...” she stares pointedly at Tyler. “...talking about the job?” 

“I wasn’t talking about it,” he replies. “I mean, I was. But I wasn’t.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense. You either were or you weren’t.” 

“I brought it up,” Ovi comes to his defense. “It’s not like it was his idea to talk about it. He never talks about it.” 

“So why were you talking about it?” Esme inquires. “There shouldn’t be a reason to talk about the job. We came here to get away from it. We gave up that life. Why is it getting brought back up? And there better be a good goddamn reason for it, too.” 

“There’s no reason to freak out,” Chloe grumbles, and Esme glares at her. 

“Listen little girl, you don’t come to my house and talk to me like that. You come here...under my roof, where my children are...and you bring up the job? After everything it put us through. And you expect me not to freak out? It doesn’t work that way. This is between Ovi and I now. You can leave or you can sit there and listen.” 

“Is that an option for me too?” Tyler asks. “Or...” 

“You’re involved whether you want to be or not,” she replies. “So no. That’s not an option for you.” 

“It was just an idea I had,” Ovi attempts to explains. 

“An amazing idea,” Chloe jumps in. 

“I’m not talking to you,” Esme snaps. “I don’t want to hear from you. So just sit there and be quiet and let me speak to Ovi. To my son.” 

“He’s not your...” 

“Don’t...” Tyler warns. “...even finish that sentence.” 

Chloe throws her hands up in surrender, then leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest, angrily tapping her foot against the ground. 

“Ovi...” Esme’s voice is low, calm. Almost too calm. Tyler knows that tone all too well; he’s been on the receiving end of it and knows what follows if you don’t tread lightly. He’s made the mistake –more than once- of not watching where he steps and having to face the consequences. “...what the hell is going on? Why are you talking about the job? You know we left that behind. We all agreed on that. That once we left Colorado, that was it. That once Tyler decided he had enough, we’d never mention it again. So what is going on?” 

“I had this idea,” he nervously begins. “That Tyler and I could do something together. Start a business. Outside of the one we already have.” 

Chloe opens her mouth to speak and Esme holds her hand up to both silence her and warn her to keep quiet. 

“And this has to do with the job how?” 

“Because...” he chews on his bottom lip. “...it is the job.” 

“So your brilliant idea is to get my husband back into the job? Is that honestly what you’re trying to tell me? Despite everything he went through in Dhaka, despite nearly dying there, despite everything you saw him go through and everything you went through yourself. You thought it was a good idea to get him back into it?” 

Tyler clears his throat noisily and stands up; too anxious to sit still yet needing to remain calm for his daughter’s sake. Adjusting his hold on her and laying her along his forearm, her head resting securely in the crook of his elbow, feet not even reaching his palm. Running his free hand over her hair, fingers fidgeting with the snap closures on her sleeper, then moving down to her feet; gently rubbing the soles and each of the tiny toes. Body swaying side to side, more an attempt to soothe himself than her. 

“I thought it was something that we could do together,” Ovi says. “We could run things. Take on clients. Maybe even hire more people once we got things off the ground. I thought if we were together, it would be better. Easier.” 

“So even knowing that he willingly walked away from things and has sworn up and down to never...ever...go back, you still tried to bring him into this? Why? Knowing everything it’s done to him. Everything it has done to us. You were there. You’ve been with us for more than five years now. You’ve seen what it’s done. How it almost ended us. More than once. And you still thought it was a good idea?” 

“I thought if we both got involved that it would be okay. That he wouldn’t be going alone and...” 

“No, Ovi. It’s not okay. It’s not okay in the slightest. What would make you think it was okay? He almost died once. That’s not enough for you? Because it was enough for me. More than enough. And that was back before we didn’t have any of this. This life. When we didn’t have kids to take care of. Five kids that need their father. How is it okay that you bring him back into this bullshit and leave my kids without their dad? Maybe that’s okay for the two of you. You don’t have anything to lose. But we do. We have so much to lose and I can’t believe you didn’t even care about any of that.” 

“I wasn’t thinking that much into it,” he admits. “I was just thinking it would be fun to get into. Running a business like that ourselves.” 

“Yeah, because it’s so much fun watching the person you love getting shot in the throat and having them bleed out all over you. Does that sound like fun to you? Or you?” she directs the last question to Chloe. “Does that sound like it was fun? Because it was fucking hell on earth for me. Twenty minutes felt like twenty hours on that bridge. And as pissed off as I am right now...no, as disgusted as I am right now...I wouldn't wish that on you. Seeing that happen. Holding someone while they’re choking on their own blood. Shoving your fingers in their throat to try to keep them alive. Does that sound like fucking fun to you?” 

Both Ovi and Chloe shake their head. 

“I’m done,” Esme shoves her chair away from the table and stands up, using the backs of her hands to clear away the tears that flow freely down her face. It’s been over six years and it sometimes still feels as if it were yesterday; the memory still so fresh and haunting that it is physically painful. Yet she always keeps it tightly bottled up inside, for the sake of her husband, the sake of her children. Even for the sake of her own sanity. Because dealing with it is just too damn difficult. “I’m done with you two. With this whole goddamn conversation.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ovi offers a feeble apology. “I never...” 

“I have to get out of there,” she says to Tyler. “I’ll take her and give her last feeding and put her to bed.” 

“Esme...” 

“I’m fine,” she assures him, and attempts a smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

He lays the baby in her arms, then uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clear away the last of her tears. 

“Can you handle all of this?” she jerks her head in the direction of the cluttered table. “I can’t deal with this right now.” 

“I got it,” he assures her. “It’s fine. You gonna be okay? 

She nods, and he lays a hand on the side of her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I just need to go.” 

“It’s okay,” he pushes her hair away from her face, tucks it behind her ears. “I understand. I’ll be up in a little while. Once I handle things.” 

She gives another weak smile, then rests her forehead briefly against his chest before heading into the house. 

***** 

“What the fuck have you two done?” Tyler keeps his voice low, but malice and contempt drip from every word. 

“I’m sorry,” Ovi is quick to apologize. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I didn’t mean for it to come out at all.” 

“She needed to know,” Chloe says, giving a flippant shrug. As if she didn’t just play a huge role in creating an epic shit show. 

Dhaka is a sore spot. An extremely sore spot. One they didn’t like to visit often but always felt like pure and utter hell when they did. His memories aren’t that vivid or fresh; not one of those moments on the bridge after Fahrad had shot him. He only knows what he’s been told, or the little snippets that his brain has managed to piece together. For Esme it’s much worse, she can remember every second of those final twenty minutes on the bridge. Every word, every noise, every smell. Even what the blood had felt like as it streamed through her fingers. Yet she very rarely talks about it. She prefers to keep it inside and deal with it on her own. Not wanting to burden him with her issues when he’s so busy struggling with his own. 

“No she didn’t,” Tyler snarls. “There was no fucking reason for her to know because I already told him I wasn’t interested. That I wasn’t going to talk about it, and he was going to forget all about it.” 

“You can’t deal him what to do,” she bites back. “You’re not his father.” 

“I’m the closest thing he has to one. I guess he didn’t tell you, huh? That I told he was an idiot for even considering the job and you’re an even bigger idiot for trying to talk him into it.” 

Chloe leaps to her feet and clamps her hands on her hips. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but...” 

“I’m the guy that nearly died saving his ass!” Tyler gestures towards Ovi. “I’m the one that gave him a home and a family because his real father is an evil prick who put his son in danger in the first place. You think he has what it takes to be a mercenary? Did he tell you how I had to give him a pair of pants because he pissed his own? I bet he didn’t tell you that part did he.” 

“I know that he killed someone. To save your ass.” 

“And what? It takes killing someone to make him a man in your eyes? You’re actually proud of that? That he’s done that? You’re fucked up. You have issues. You’re putting all this bullshit in his head. That he needs to prove something to you. That somehow the job is the only way for him to do that. You have no goddamn clue what that life is like. You’re just a delusional little girl. Get the fuck out of here with your bullshit.” 

“Tyler...” Ovi attempts to diffuse the situation. “...if we just sit down and talk about this calmly...” 

“We’re not talking about this. I said what I needed to say. I’m not getting involved in this. I left that life behind me. I’m not that guy anymore. He’s gone. I have a wife and kids. That’s my life now.” 

“Pretty pathetic life,” Chloe mutters. 

“You need to go. You need to get out of my face before I really say something I’ll regret. This is me being polite. If you’d rather I be a total asshole...” 

“Are you just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?!” Chloe turns her ire on Ovi, who just sighs in exasperation and puts his face in his hands. “You’re just going to sit back and let him act like this?!” 

“This is my fucking house,” Tyler reminds her. “And if it wasn’t for me and my wife, you’d be stuck back in Colorado all by yourself. I’m the one who puts a roof over your head and food on your table. Yet you think you can come here and cause all this shit? You have no idea what any of us have been through. What things were like before you came along. So you need to need to know your place and just step off.” 

“He’s right you know,” Ovi says. “You don’t know everything that happened before you came along. Especially what happened in Dhaka.” 

“I know he fucked up,” Chloe nods in Tyler’s direction. 

“That is not what happened,” Ovi argues. “He did not mess up. My father did. Tyler did what he had to do to keep me alive and get me out of there. Even when he knew there was no money. He could have just let me in the street, but he didn’t. I’m only here because he didn’t give up on me. Or himself.” 

“And you’re going to pay for that for the rest of your life? Because he wants to be martyr? He gets to hold saving you over your head for the rest of your life? Expecting you to be constantly on your hands and knees, kissing his ass?” 

“Jesus fuck,” Tyler gives a dry laugh and shakes his head, then begins gathering the dirty dishes and silverware from the table. “You’re really a piece of work, you know that? He should have left you behind in Colorado. I should have paid him to leave you there. And this is what you want to get yourself into?” he directs the question towards Ovi. “You want to spend the rest of your life with her? It couldn’t have just been a fuck and duck? Good like with that one, mate. You’re going to need it.” 

Chloe opens her mouth to respond but stops when the sliding glass door opens and Tanner wanders out; clad in just a pair of Captain America pajama pants that are too short in the legs, his hair mussed from sleep, pressing the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. 

“What are you doing up, mate?” Tyler asks. “It’s late and there’s school tomorrow.” 

“I know.” he yawns loudly and wraps both arms around one of his dad’s thigh. “But I’m thirsty and mommy said to tell you.” 

“She did, did she?” 

Tanner nods. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he sets the items in his hands down on the table, then uses one arm to effortlessly scoop his son up onto his hip. He’s long and lanky, but remarkably light. Fifteen pounds smaller than his mere minutes older brother. And he presses a kiss to the side of Tanner’s head, who in turns curls both arms around his neck and nestles his face into his shoulder. Of the twins, he’s the sensitive and affectionate one. Not as much of a momma’s boy anymore, his relationship and bond with his father much stronger since Tyler returned from Ireland. “What do you want?” he asks, as steps into the house, leaving Chloe and Ovi behind without even a farewell or ‘fuck off’. “Wine? Beer? Tequila?” 

“No,” Tanner giggles into his neck. “Warm milk.” 

“Warm milk? What if I don’t know how to use the stove?” 

Another giggle. “Use the microwave.” 

“What if I don’t know how to use that?” 

“You know how to use the microwave, silly daddy. I seen you do it.” 

“Well don’t tell your mum that, okay? Or she’ll expect me to do more around here.” 

“I won’t tell. My lips are sealed.” Tanner mimics locking up his mouth and throwing away the key. 

Tyler grins. “How are you going to drink your milk if you can’t open your mouth?” 

“I can open my mouth, daddy. I was just playin’. Come on now. Get it together.” 

He chuckles at that. “You’re starting to sound like your mum.” 

“She’s the smart one,” Tanner concludes. 

“I don’t know how smart she can be when she hangs around the likes of me.” 

“She probably thinks you’re cute!” 

“Yeah, that’s probably it. You want down or....” 

Tanner shakes his head, expertly wriggles his way around to father’s back, once again wrapping his arms around Tyler’s neck and clamping those long, skinny legs against his torso. 

“Your sister asleep?” he asks, as he fetches the milk from the fridge and a mug from the cupboard above the sink. 

“Which one?” 

“The nice one.” 

“Yeah, Addie’s asleep. Millie too. But she’s not nice. At all.” 

“Not even sometimes?” he pours some milk into the mug and holds it up for Tanner go give his approval on whether or not it’s enough. 

“Maybe sometimes. Like when she beats up the bullies at school.” 

“She does that a lot? Beats people up?” 

“Once in a while. When they deserve it. Like when they call Teej stupid. I don’t like when they say mean things about him. He’s my brother. We were in mommy’s tummy at the same time, right daddy?” 

“At the exact same time,” Tyler confirms, then lets his son push the buttons on the microwave to heat the milk. 

“How’d we get in there, tho’?” 

“That’s something I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

“How much older?” 

“A lot older.” 

“How much is a lot?” Tanner presses. 

“I dunno. Ten or twenty years.” 

“That’s a fucking lot.” 

“Hey!” Tyler scolds. “Language.” 

“You say it all the time!” 

“I’m allowed. I’m older than you.” 

“By how much?” 

“Thirty-six years.” 

“Holy shit! You’re old, daddy! Sorry,” he giggles when his dad scowls at him. “Potty mouth.” 

“Yeah, you have a potty mouth, alright. Just make sure when people ask where you learned it from, you say mommy.” 

“That’s a lie though. You said never to lie.” 

“I’ll give you ten bucks for each time you say it.” 

“Okay,” Tanner happily agrees, and then once more wriggles his body around to its original position on his dad’s hip so Tyler can sink down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table; settling his son on his lap, a palm running over his the five year old’s hair, then pressing a kiss to the back to the back of his head. 

“School was good today?” 

Tanner shrugs and sips at his milk. 

“What did you learn about?” 

“Dinosaurs.” 

“They were teaching you about dinosaurs?” 

“I was reading about them. I dunno what everyone else was doing.” 

“Look, I’m relying on you to be the smart one, mate. I need you to become a doctor or a lawyer so you that can be really rich when you’re my age and you can take care of me.” 

“I don’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer, though.” 

“What do you want to be?” 

“I dunno. A vet. I like animals.” 

“Be a big game vet. They make more money. I’m counting you. You need to be the one that steps it up at school. Because I think I’m going to be saving on college education for your brother. What was his day like? He have any problems?” 

“Nope. He was good all day. No one picked on him today.” 

“Is that what causes his issues?” Tyler combs his fingers through his son’s hair; Tanner had insisted on his old haircut. The one that Esme had loved so much. It has made the resemblance between them even more startling; all the kids look like him, but there’s something about Tanner that sets him apart from the others. Something stronger in those genes; the same mannerisms and facial expressions. Even the same way of saying certain words. “Someone picks on him?” 

“Mostly ‘cause people pick on the other kids and he gets mad about it and wants to protect them.” 

It doesn’t surprise Tyler; TJ is the one that will take on his sister if he feels Millie is being mean to Tanner or picking on Declan. And he doesn’t care if he gets the beating of a lifetime. He’s more than willing to put himself on the line if it means sticking up for the underdog. 

“Millie has a boyfriend,” Tanner abruptly announces. 

Tyler frowns. “Your sister what now?” 

“She has a boyfriend,” he casually responds. 

“What do you mean she has a boyfriend? She’s not even six yet.” 

“Not like boyfriend and girlfriend like you and mommy.” 

“Your mom and I are married. We haven’t been boyfriend and girlfriend in a long time.” Where they ever really? They’d never actually put a label on things. Did they just skip that stage? Just going from fucking one another to finding out about Millie to getting married? It had just seemed normal to them. Things had started out unconventionally and the trend just continued. “Who’s the boyfriend?” 

“I dunno. Some kid in her class.” 

“What’s his name?” 

Tanner shrugs. 

“What’s he look like?” 

“What is this? Twenty questions?” 

Tyler chuckles and kisses his son’s cheek. “You are your mother’s son.” 

“He’s just some kid. I dunno his name.” 

“Is he nice? To your sister?” 

“He must be. She hasn’t punched him in the face yet.” 

Fair point. 

“I’ll give you another ten bucks if you find out what his name is,” Tyler offers. 

Tanner shakes his head. “Twenty.” 

“For twenty I want pictures of him and his address.” 

Tanner throws a hand up in exasperation. “How am I supposed to do that? I’m five.” 

“Fifteen and you get me his first and last name.” 

Tanner considers it, a pensive frown on his face as he stares down at the now empty mug in his hands. “I can do that,” he eventually agrees. “But I want the money before school tomorrow. Or no deal.” 

“You get half tomorrow and the other half when you get the job done and give me the information. That’s how it works. I get proof, you get the rest of the money. You can’t extort me, mate. Nice try though.” 

“What’s extort?” 

“We got a deal or not?” 

“Fine,” Tanner sighs. “Half tomorrow and half later. You’re tough.” 

“I’ve got more experience in this stuff than you do. Ready? All done?” 

The five-year-old yawns loudly and nods. “I gotta pee though.” 

“Go,” he tousles Tanner’s hair. “Hurry up. It’s late. And stay on the deck. Don’t pee on it. Do that in the sand. But do not go any farther than the end of the deck. Got it?” 

“Got it,” he agrees, and then jumps off his father’s lap and hurries through the kitchen and out the sliding door. 

Tyler stands; grimacing at the tightness in his shoulder and the pain that shoots through his knee and travels all the way down the calf. And he grabs one of the prescription bottles from the highest shelf above the sink and shakes out three of the pain pills and swallows them dry, then adds Tanner’s dirty mug to the dishwasher and turns it on. 

“Done!” Tanner announces, and runs towards him, laughing hysterically when his father effortlessly catches him and turns him upside down, his legs wrapping around Tyler’s neck. “Don’t drop me daddy!” he pleads. “You got me?” 

“I got you, mate,” he promises, an arm securely pressed against his son’s stomach, free hand turning off the lights to the kitchen go. “Always.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: light smut at the end

It’s after midnight when he finishes the clean up outside. The task taking longer than expected; stalling in order to eavesdrop on the argument raging from within the guest house forty yards away. Voices travel well where they are; carried easily by the vastness of the property and the winds that roll in off the ocean. Chloe had been in fine form; shrieking and screaming and not allowing Ovi to get a word in edgewise. He’s a grown man in number only and is very much still a kid in some ways. Meek and mild, rarely raising his voice or showing any real signs of anger. There’d be no way he’d ever be able to handle the job; the things he’d have to see, the things he’d have to do. 

It hardens you. You become immune to causing the suffering of others; able to justify you actions now matter how brutal or gruesome the end results are. A lot of guys can’t separate the two: the job personality versus the personal one. Most carried the hardness and the lack of empathy home with them, treating their wives and their kids with the same callous disregard that they had for the bad guys. Tyler had always promised himself that he’d never get that way; that he’d never bring the job home with him, that the moment he stepped through the front door, that part of him ceased to exist. That who he was at home would always be enormously different than the one he was while he was working. Most of the time he succeeded. Other times he failed miserably. Flying into rages far too easily, yelling way too much, causing stress and worry and even fear within the people who didn’t deserve any of it.

He checks on the kids; finding TJ and Tanner both on the bottom bunk, fast asleep facing one another, their foreheads touching. When they’re not beating the hell out of one another or joining forces to create havoc, their bond is remarkable. Strong. Always one another’s best friend and protector. Even as babies they’d settled much easier when they’d be placed right next each other; any crying or fussing coming to an abrupt halt once their bodies came in contact. Their connection beginning the moment they were conceived and then strengthening over the seven and a half months they’d spent together inside of their mother.

Millie is half on, half of her bed when he steps into the room, flat on her back with an arm and a leg dangling over the edge of the mattress, hair wildly splayed across her pillow and over her face. And he carefully and gently lifts her up with one arm to fix the blankets and pillows and the dozens of stuffed animals that she insists on sleeping with. Her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, eyes never opening as she nestles her face into his shoulder.

“Daddy…” she breathes in that tiny voice. 

“Shhhh,” his voice is a near whisper, lips pressed to her temple. “It’s okay. Stay asleep. It’s all right.”

“Okay,” she says, and then gives a long, loud yawn that ends in a small squeak.

The same yawn she’d had since she was all eight pounds soaking wet and he’d get up with her in the middle of the night and sit with her laying along his arms, staring down at her in absolute awe. Not at just how beautiful and perfect and pure she was, but that he was even around to enjoy being her father. It came so close to ending on that bridge in Dhaka. And if it had, Esme would have been back in Colorado when she’d found out she was pregnant; she would have gone through everything on her own and Millie would never even have known him outside of stories she was told as she was growing up. In all likelihood, she never even would have seen a picture of him. And even after he lays her back down on the bed, she clings to him, tiny arms tightening around his neck. 

“Where are you going?” she asks groggily.

“I’m going to bed. Where do you think I’m going?”

“You’re not leaving, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks. 

It’s a kick to the gut; the fact that she’s just shy of turning six and she has to worry about something like that. Practically a baby still yet accustomed to him laving in the middle of the night and not returning for days, sometimes even weeks. At the time, getting back into the job had seemed like the most logical decision to make; the missions he took on simple for the most part, meaning easy money –and extremely good money at that- in his pocket. The job was the one thing he excelled at it, and he could provide for his family in ways no normal nine to five ever would ever allow him to. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was causing so much damage. Not just to himself. But his wife and especially his kids. He’d thought he was handling it well, separating ‘job Tyler’ from ‘normal Tyler’. Until he started seeing the long-term effects it had on all of them. Now he realizes his mother in law is right: he was a selfish bastard for ever getting back into it.

“Maybe there’s more bad guys,” Millie pouts.

“There are no more bad guys. I don’t do that anymore, remember?”

She gives a soft smile. “Now you’re just daddy.”

He nods, running a hand over her hair and then kissing her forehead. “Yeah, now I’m just daddy,” he confirms.

“Good,” she says, her eyes heavy lidded with sleep as she releases the grip on his neck and places her hands on the sides of his face. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too. Now go back to sleep. School tomorrow.”

“I know,” she sighs, and then rubs the tip of her nose against the end of his before rolling over onto her side. “Tuck me in nice and tight, okay?”

“Like a Millie burrito,” he teases as he obliges, and she giggles. “Sweet dreams of sweet things, baby girl,” he places a hand on her head and a kiss to her brow. Then stays kneeling at the side of the bed, a palm resting on her back as he watches her drift off to sleep.

****

“Did you know your daughter has a boyfriend?” Tyler inquires as he joins his wife in their room, where she sits in bed, back against the headboard, knees bent, a book open on her thighs. 

“What?” she laughs as she glances up. “Where’d that come from?”

“Your daughter…your oldest daughter…has a boyfriend.”

“I love how she instantly becomes solely my daughter when she does something you don’t like.”

“Because she gets all the bad shit from you.”

“I’m not the one that’s been teaching her to say all the worst possible swear words since the day she started talking,” Esme points out. “And calling him a boyfriend is a little overkill, don’t you think? I mean, how risqué could things be? She’s not even six.”

“I don’t know how you stay so calm over things like this,” he grumbles, as he strips off his t-shirt and jeans and tosses them into the dirty laundry hamper, leaving him in just a pair of boxer briefs.

“What I’m not calm about is you standing there almost naked,” she retorts. “You have some fucking nerve getting undressed in front of me. How dare you.”

Tyler smirks, then opens the wall to wall sliding glass doors, letting the breeze and the smell and the sound of the ocean tumble through the screens. It had been one of the main selling points when they’d chosen the house: the view from the master bedroom and the generous walk out patio to relax on. “So did you know?” he asks. “That she has a boyfriend?”

“Tyler, don’t get caught up on semantics. Boyfriend? That’s a little much. What’s the most dating like thing they could be doing in grade one? Holding hands on the playground and sharing snacks at lunch? It’s just some kid in her class that has a crush on her.”

He frowns. “I don’t want anyone having a crush on her.”

“You are taking this all way too seriously. He thinks she’s cute. Which she is. She’s a cute little girl that he has an innocent crush on. And you know what, there’s a lot of years to go and there’s going to be a lot of boys -and some girls- that think she’s cute. And that’s fine too.”

“How do you even know about this?”

“How do you know about it?” she challenges.

“Tanner just told me. And I may or may not have offered him fifteen bucks to get me the kid’s first and last name.”

“Fifteen bucks, huh?” Esme grins. “It only took me five and an extra bowl of ice cream.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “He told you too?”

“Yesterday after school.”

“You’re telling me that you knew all this time and he extorted money out of me?”

She nods. “He’s clever, you know. He knew exactly what he was doing. The player got played.”

“That little shit.”

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for,” Esme reasons. “That kid is a lot smarter and a lot craftier than anyone gives him credit for.”

“He’s sneaky is what he is. Maybe he’s the one we have to watch out for when he’s older. We thought it was TJ that would want to get into the ‘family business’. It’s been Tanner all this time. Think it’s all an act? How sensitive and sweet he is? I bet you it’s an act. He’s probably a fucking savage.”

“I think there’s more of you in him than you realize. And as far as Millie is concerned, it’s just a little kid crush. Some kid her in class that thinks she’s cute. And you have to admit, she’s a beautiful little thing.”

“I don’t give a shit how cute he thinks she is. She’s my little girl.”

“And she always will be. It doesn’t matter how many boys find her cute and have crushes on her. Nothing changes the fact that she’s your little girl. You’re just mad that one day she’s going to find a guy that she falls wildly and crazily in love with and daddy won’t be number one anymore.”

“No one will ever be good enough for her. No one.”

Esme grins. “You’re starting to sound like my dad. He used to say the same thing all the time about me.”

“Yeah? And you ended up with Mark, so...”

“Okay, that’s a fair point. That definitely wasn’t a choice he would have agreed on. But I did pretty good the second time around. I think he would have at least been able to tolerate you. He wouldn’t have been too happy about the tattoos and the weird hair.”

“First of all, it wasn’t weird. Second, I only kept it because you wanted me to.”

“I do miss that hair sometimes,” she sighs. “But I must admit, you’re pretty damn sexy the way you look now. I’m not going to complain. All those thirsty moms on the playground look at you like a snack. I look at you like a whole buffet plus extra dessert.”

“One you get to eat at for free,” he points out, and slips into bed beside her.

“I don’t know if it’s actually free because I’m the one that does your dirty laundry and had my body go all to shit giving you five kids. That’s a hell of a steep price to pay for admission if you ask me.”

“Well for what it’s worth,” he lays a hand on the top of her head and draws it towards him, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I think your body is fucking amazing.”

“I think you’re biased.”

“Maybe a little. But it doesn’t make it less true.”

“My ass is bigger,” she laments. “And my hips.”

“So?” He shrugs, running his palm over her and letting it fall to her shoulder, pulling her tight into his side. “I don’t give a shit. Just makes you even sexier in my eyes. They got bigger because you gave me kids. And you know I’m not bullshitting when I say it. I think I make it pretty clear just how sexy I think you are.”

“Yeah,” she giggles, and uses the tip of her nose to nuzzle the sensitive spot below his left ear. “You’re pretty good at proving those things. Multiple times.”

“I aim to please.”

“Oh, and you do. Over and over again.”

He grins.

“You’ve never been a disappointment, that’s for sure,” she says, as she snaps the book closed and tosses it on her nightstand. She settles against him, sliding an arm between his body and the headboard to wrap around his waist.

“Did you flip your shit?” she asks, as she places her hand over his at it rests on her hip, lacing their fingers together. “On Ovi and Chloe?”

“A little,” Tyler admits. “I said what I needed to say. I told him this morning that he was an idiot for wanting to get into the job and that I didn’t want to talk about. Ever.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, just you know. I knew you wouldn’t intentionally talk about the job. You haven’t talked about it once to me in the past six months.”

“Ovi brought up this stupid fucking idea and I told him that’s exactly what it was and that I didn’t want anything to do with it. That I wasn’t going to have anything to do with it. That I didn’t even want him bringing it up to me again. When I left, I left for good. I’m not going back to that life. I’m not losing you and my kids.”

There is no doubt in his mind that she’d leave, that she’s reached her limit and if he breaks another promise to her, she won’t hesitate in taking off with the kids. There’d be no second chance this time. Those divorce papers would be in the mail within forty-eight hours and he’d be lucky if she even stayed in the country. And the thought of not having her and his children in his life is enough to fight any temptation the job may throw his way.

“You have to stop him, Tyler. You have to do whatever it takes to change his mind. We both know Ovi would never survive in that world.”

He nods in agreement. 

“He’s worth so much more than that. And you’d think after everything he went through and everything he saw you go through.... everything he still sees you go through...that would be enough to convince him that this is a horrible idea.”

“Chloe has it in his fucking head that it’s some great existence. That it’s exciting and fun and somehow it makes him more of a man.”

“I’m going to seriously throat punch that little bitch. Romanticizing that kind of life? That’s bullshit and it’s sick. There is nothing remotely romantic of beautiful about the job. It’s stressful and it’s scary and it’s dangerous. Not to mention what it does to the people back home. What is so romantic about spending days and sometimes weeks not sleeping and eating properly because you’re worried you’re never going to see your husband again? What a stupid little bitch.”

“And he’s thinking about asking her to marry him?” Tyler gives a dry laugh. “That will end well.”

“Hey, people thought we’d be long divorced by now. What did my mom give us? A year? A year and a half? Because we didn’t do things ‘properly’ in her eyes. Maybe that’s why we’re still hanging in there. Because we didn’t do things properly.”

“I don’t know,” he smirks. “I think we did plenty of things properly those first five days.”

“Maybe a little too properly and a little too well. Considering Millie was the end result.”

“She was definitely a surprise,” he agrees. “A very good surprise. But a surprise.”

“She was the only good thing that came out of Dhaka. Everything was a big shitty mess. It’s kind of weird when you think about it. That things got so messy and so complicated but in the midst of all of it, we made a baby. Another human being. It’s just surreal. That out of all the darkness and all that fear, we were given her.”

“She was meant to be here. She might not have been made in the best way or the best place, but we still made her. I know I wouldn’t give her up for anything.”

“She’s always had you wrapped around her little finger. Right from the time we found out she was going to be a girl. I thought you’d be so disappointed because you wanted a boy.”

“I just wanted a healthy baby. And I just wanted you healthy. That’s all that mattered to me.”

She smiles and press a kiss to his neck. Next to the scar that had been left behind from Dhaka. A permanent reminder of just how close they’d come to never having the life they have now. It doesn’t bother her as much anymore; she doesn’t think of death...his near death...whenever she looks at it. But there’s times where it stirs something up that is so painful and so fresh that she can barely stand it.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so emotional.” she says. “When Dhaka got brought up. I know you hate when I get like that.”

“I don’t hate that you get emotional over it. I hate seeing you get emotional about it. There’s a difference. Because it’s my fucking fault you have a reason to get worked up over it in the first place.”

“Dhaka was not your fault, Tyler. Things didn’t go to shit because you did something wrong. You were the only one trying to do things right. You did what you thought was best for Ovi. And me. You didn’t have a lot of choices. There wasn’t exactly a lot of options to work with. None of what happened on that bridge was your doing. I don’t blame you for the things I saw. Or the things I had to do. I wish you would realize that. That I chose to stay for you. With you. Just like I chose to stay in Australia. You didn’t force me do any of things and you know it.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Do you? Because you say you know, but you don’t act like you know. I didn’t say what I said to Ovi and Chloe to make you feel guilty. I said what I did because that life is bullshit and I wanted to get that through their thick heads. It’s not exciting and it’s not fun. And it especially isn’t fun to see someone you love get shot in the throat, and then try to keep them alive while they bleed out all over you. There’s nothing remotely fun about that.”

Tyler can hear the emotion in her voice; feel it in the way her body trembles against his. And as painful as it is to relive it, it’s selfish of him not to let her talk about it. He wasn’t the only one that went through hell that day on the Sultana Kamal bridge. Most of his damage is physical. Hers is all mental.

*****

“I don’t want to talk about this.” her voice is shaking.

“I think you should.”

“Why? So I can just upset you? You hate when I talk about it. You're the one always telling me not to talk about. That I need to get over.”

“Yeah? Well I’m a fucking asshole for ever saying that. And I’m sorry that I did. Because you need to. Talk about it.”

“I can talk about it to the therapist.”

“I don’t want you talking about it with her. I want you talking about it with me.”

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent sure. You’re always here helping me with my shit. I’d be kind of a selfish prick if I didn’t do that for you.”

“I just don’t want to upset you,” she frets.

“Esme, stop worrying about me. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“I honestly don’t even know where to start,” she admits. 

“Just talk. Say whatever. Don’t think about it. Just say it.”

She rests the side of her face against his shoulder and tightens her grip on his hand. And he waits patiently, chin on the top of her head, his free hand softly rubbing her thigh. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she says. “It’s always on my mind. When he shot you. When I close my eyes, I can still see it. The look on your face. It was confusion and it was fear...” she takes a deep, quivering breath. “...and I don’t ever want to see that again. Because I know what to do. I didn’t know if I could do anything. And fucking Nik was trying to hold Ovi and I back and we couldn’t even get to you to help you.”

He presses a soft kiss to her temple.

“It was like she didn’t want us helping you. That it was okay to just leave you there and not even try. To just stand there and watch you die. And I wasn’t going to let that happen. Even if it meant that I’d get caught on the bridge and die too. I didn’t even care. And I know that sounds messed up because we’d only known each other for a week and a bit, and I probably shouldn’t have care that much. But I did. And I wasn’t going to let you die there.”

He doesn’t know what to say. If she even wants him to say anything. 

“And then I think about ‘what if’. What if you did die and I got out of here. We didn’t know it yet, but Millie had already been conceived. I would have been all alone when I found out I was having her. And I would have. Had her. But she never would have known you. I didn’t even have a picture of you that I could have eventually shown her. And the other kids wouldn’t even be here.”

She weeps openly now; he can feel the tears against his skin and the way her entire body trembles against him. And he lets go of her hand and places palm against her ribs, pulling her even tighter against him. Eyes closed; the tip of his nose pressed against her temple.

“Millie would have been all I had left of you,” she continues. “The only proof that you ever existed. And I try not to think about that. When I see you with her. When I see you with all of them. How close it came to none of that...none of them...being here.”

“But they are here,” he gently reminds her. “And so am I.”

“And that should be enough. I know it should be. And I feel like a horrible wife and a terrible mother that sometimes it isn’t.”

“Baby, you’re not any of those things. You’re an amazing wife and an even better mother. Don’t ever doubt that. You see how happy the kids are. How healthy they are. That’s all you. All the times I took off for the job, you were with them. You were the one constant in their lives. You took care of them on your own. Sometimes for weeks at a time. And that makes you pretty fucking awesome in my eyes.”

“Yeah?” she sniffles, using the back of her hands to clear tears off her cheeks. “Because I don’t feel so awesome. And it’s not just because of this Dhaka stuff. Or Ovi and Chloe. It’s everything.”

“What’s everything? Can you narrow it down? Me?”

“No. Not you. Which I know doesn’t happy often. Usually you’re at the top of my shit list.”

He grins. “Smart ass.”

“I don’t know what it is. It’s just everything and nothing all the same time. I just don’t feel well.”

“You just had a baby,” Tyler reminds her. “Two weeks ago.”

“And you know how much I love her.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why do I feel like this? I just feel so lost and so lonely and just so sad and I don’t know why.”

“You were like this after you had Declan too. Depressed.”

“But this time it’s even worse. And I hate it. I hate feeling this way. I have you and the kids and a brand new baby and I can think about it how you’d all be better off without me.”

“Baby, that’s bullshit and you know it. I’d be miserable without you. It would fucking kill me if something happened to you. I wouldn’t be able to do this alone. Raise five kids.”

“I don’t actually want to hurt myself. I want to be here. I just have feeling like this. Just sad and lonely and empty.”

He slides his body down the bed, until he’s flat on his back with a pillow supporting his head, wrapping both arms around and her pulling her tight against him. Softly rubbing her back as she buries her face in her favourite spot between the side of his neck and his shoulder and continues to cry. Even harder than before. And he feels helpless. Knowing that there’s nothing he could say or do that will fix this problem. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he turns his face into hers and presses his lips to her brow. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I didn’t think the last one would be worst,” she laments. “But it just hurts so bad. And I can’t explain what hurts. I just know that it does.”

“Tomorrow we’ll call the doctor and you’ll tell him everything that you just told me. Because I can only do so much, Esme. I’d take it all away if I could. You know I would.”

“I do. I do know that. And I’m sorry if I seem super bitchy and ungrateful or...”

“Well you’ve been a bitch for the last six years and I’ve just gotten used to it,” he teases, and combs his fingers through her hair and then lets his hand travel over the nape of her neck and down onto her back. “And you don’t seem like that at all. I know how you got after Declan and I’m not surprised you’re that way now.”

“Because I am grateful. For our kids. For you. For everything you do for us and the way you are with them and how you just gave everything up and just stepped up.”

“You are not coming across that way,” he insists, and with his free hand, picks up her own. First holding his palm flat against hers; the size difference both amusing and surreal. Then entwining their fingers, kissing the inside of her wrist, and placing their joined hands on his stomach. “Everything will be okay,” he assures her. “We’ll get you some help and get you feeling better in no time.” 

There’s no other option. He needs her to be fine. Physically and mentally.

“You’re way too good to me,” she sniffles, voice muffled against his neck.

“Well, I kind of love you, so...”

She smiles. “I kind of love you too.”

“And I want you to be okay. Because I kind of need you here. So do your kids. They need their mom. A lot more than they need me.”

“I think you totally underestimate the actual role you play in their lives,” she says, as she places her chin on his chest, looking up at him with those dark, soulful eyes as her fingers push through his hair. “It’s not like I was able to make them without you, so...”

Tyler grins. “That making part was actually kind of fun.”

“Kind of?” she laughs. “Kind of? I think it went way past just kind of fun. Especially Millie. I hope when she’s older she never asks how things went down. She doesn’t need to know about those five days.”

“You don’t want her knowing what kind of freak you are? How dirty you can be?”

“We can keep all of that our little secret.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s better she doesn’t know much you liked being choked and having a finger up your a...”

“Okay that’s enough!” she places a hand over his mouth. “We don’t have to talk about it. Because we can’t do those things anyway.”

“You said we could do other things,” Tyler points out.

“I knew once you caved in this would happen,” she laughs. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Like your complaining,” there’s a smirk on his face as he moves down the bed, pushing her thighs apart and then kneeling between them. “I don’t need anything,” he says. “Not tonight. I can go without.”

“Yeah?” she grins. “What do you want?”

“It’s more what I want to do for you. Or to you. Or both.”

“You mean you want to enjoy one of your favourite food groups,” she chides, and he nods.

“Exactly,” his hands reach for the waist band of her pajama shorts, fingers grazing against her smooth skin when they hook into the thin fabric, sliding the cotton bottoms over her ass and hips and then down her legs. “You have to be quiet,” he warns, as he leans down to press a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other. “Don’t wake the kids.”

“Just stop talking and...” she bites down on her bottom lip when he drops his head and drags his tongue along her swollen, damp folds before pushing past them and finding her clit. Her eyes closing and her head falling back onto her pillow as her hands find his hair, burying themselves in the thick, short strands.

His calloused palms squeeze and massage her ass and her thighs; eyes focused on her as he eagerly -and expertly- laps at her. Spurred on by the noises she’s making, the whimpers, pleas, and moan interspersed with his name, just loud enough for him to hear. Her hands abandoning his hair in favour of capturing his; fingers pushing their way through his and gripping tightly, their joined hands resting on her thighs. Her heels dig into the mattress as her hips begin arching off the bed; hot, slick fluid trickling out of her, so sweet and delicious on his tongue and his lips. And he picks up the pace, concentrating solely on her clit; licking and sucking until she reaches her climax; squeezing his hands tightly and her body arching off the bed, having to bite down on her bottom lip to contain the noises that threaten to explode from her mouth. And he continues his ministrations until she’s attempting to push him away with one her knees, yet succumbs to a second orgasm, having to resort to turning her face into one of the pillows to stifle the scream.

Her body goes limp; hands releasing his, arms falling to her sides. And Tyler licks her juices from his lips and then lifts the bottom of her tank top to press a kiss to her fluttering stomach. Waiting until her body stops trembling and he feels her hands in his hair to look up at her.

“You good?” he asks.

“Mmm…hmmmm…” she manages, and then sighs. “You are way too good at that.”

“Or you’re just really easy to please,” he teases as he leans over her, a hand on either side of her head.

“Maybe. But I think it has more to do with your mad skills.”  


He grins and kisses her. Letting her taste himself on his mouth, then presses his lips to her shoulder; her arms curling around his neck, tightly holding him to her. And he buries his face in her neck and closes his eyes. Losing himself in the warmth of her body and the familiar scent that clings to her hair.


	8. Chapter 8

Tyler gets up with the kids. Helping them with their morning routines, making breakfasts and school lunches, loading up backpacks. Little mundane things that the average person takes for granted, but he finds calm in. The familiarity of the ‘same old, same old’, always knowing what comes next and how to handle it. For years his life had been anything but relaxed and routine; the job always unpredictable, never knowing when something could go wrong and finding yourself fighting for your life, constantly surrounded by the potential for chaos. Now he has complete control over the things taking place around him. He can keep things running smoothly, well organized, predictable. Instead of gunshots and explosions and people screaming in terror and pain, all there is to hear is his children’s voices and their giggles; maybe the occasional argument or a fight that needs broken up or one of Declan’s ear piercing shrieks. But no matter how loud it can get and how much it can try your patience, it’s still a thousand times better than the alternative.

He tends to Millie’s hair as they wait at the end of the driveway for the school bus. Carefully brushing out the tangles in her long, thick tresses, pulling apart separate sections and braiding them, securing them with impossibly small elastics she keeps passing back to him. It’s surreal; that his hands…with all their scars and their callouses and their busted up knuckles…had at one time being able to inflict so much damage on others, yet now can expertly and almost flawlessly, fixing a five year old’s hair. 

“These too!” Millie says, and fishes two sparkly Hello Kitty barrettes from the pocket of her hoodie.

“Really?” he smirks. “Cut me some slack. I need to draw the line somewhere.”

“I’m saving the Stars Wars ones for tomorrow because it’s Friday. I always wear those on Friday,” she reasons, and holds the small hair clips aloft once more. “Please, daddy?”

With a sigh he relents, snapping both open and holding one between his lips as he tends to the first.

“Maybe this is what you could get a job doing,” she muses. “A hairdresser.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. And I think they’re called stylists now. It’s more PC.”

“What does PC mean?”

“It’s just a more polite way to talk to people and about people. Like how it isn’t polite that you go around calling people dick heads.”

“But what if they are?” she asks. “What if they are dick heads?”

“Then just think it in your head. Don’t say it.”

“Dickheads need to know they’re dickheads,” she argues. “So they stop being dickheads.”

Tyler sighs. “Do you have to remember all the bad words I say around you?”

“You shouldn’t say them if you don’t want me to repeat them, daddy.”

He smirks, then attaches the last clip to her hair. “Shoes,” he nods towards the Spiderman sandals sitting in the driveway. “Get ‘em on. Can’t go on the bus without them. That’s the rules.”

Millie sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes, grumbling complaints as she shoves her feet into her sandals.

“So who’s this guy?” he asks. “Your boyfriend.”

Her eyes narrow. “Who told you?”

“Doesn’t matter who told me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I can’t tell you everything daddy. Especially about boys. Not when you’re a boy.”

“Doesn’t it make more sense to tell me about boys because I am a boy.”

She frowns. “That’s not how this works”

“You’re starting to sound more and more like your mum every day.”

“It’s not a bad thing though,” Millie reasons.

“No. It’s not. She’s pretty smart. And you shouldn’t be talking about boys anyway.”

She puts a hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side as she looks up at him. “Why not?”

“Because you’re too young.”

“I’m almost six,” his daughter reminds him, and for a moment he feels his entire body tense and his blood run cold. The mere mention of it…the age that Austin had been when he died…brings about the fear that Millie will wake up that morning and something horrible will be wrong with her. It’s irrational. He knows it is. But it creates a panic inside of him that is powerful and all consuming.

“Six it still too young,” Tyler says. “Sixty sounds better.”

She rolls her eyes at that.

“What’s his name? At least give me that.”

She has the nerve to sigh dreamily when she says it, “Ryan. He’s really cute.”

“Oh please!” TJ pipes up from where and his twin sit on the curb waiting for the bus, watching surfing videos on YouTube on Tyler’s phone. “He’s ugly!”

“He is not!” his sister bites back. “You’re ugly.”

“We look the same, Millie. So you’re calling yourself ugly too.”

“I do not look like you!” she argues. “Never! In a million, billion, gazillion years!”

“Yeah, you kind of do,” Tyler says. “You all look alike and you all look like me, so..”

“See!” TJ gestures towards him. “We look like daddy and daddy’s not ugly. But Ryan is. Ryan must have an ugly daddy.”

“Okay…okay…enough…” Tyler attempts to diffuse the situation, a hand on the top of Millie’s head to prevent her from bolting at her brother and attacking him. “…no one is ugly. We don’t call people that.”

“Not even if they actually are?” TJ asks.

Tyler scowls at him. “Did I stutter? No one is ugly. Not on the outside. Lots of ugly people on the inside though. And you guys need to watch your mouths. Please. Or mommy’s going to have my ass.”

“You said ass,” Tanner giggles, and soon his brother and sister joins in.

Tyler sighs. Never so relieved to see the school bus as it approaches.

****  
They eat breakfast on the beach; a blanket spread out underneath them, Addie in her carrier seat, a towel draped over it to shield her from the sun, only her bare feet visible. Declan sits ten feet away, at the edge of the water in swim trunks and a lifejacket, alternating between digging his feet and hands in the wet sand and laughing at Mac as he bounds through the light waves, splashing the toddler each time. 

It’s a refreshing change from their usual mornings. Most filled with counselling sessions, errands to run, nor work that he’s picked up with Ovi. To be able to just relax and enjoy each other’s company without having the older kids interrupting or without having to worry about rushing off somewhere. The only thing on his schedule a previously planned lunch get together with Ovi. He can only imagine what kind of fresh hell awaits him. Either more talk about the job or the younger man seeking relationship advice or help picking out a ring. And he doesn’t want to be even remotely involved with any of those three options.

“Are you going to say something to him?” Esme asks, she stretches out sideways on the blanket, placing her head on his thigh. Even five kids later and only two weeks having the final one she’s still the most beautiful woman in the world to him; body slightly tanned, breasts fuller and hips wider, clad in a simple one-piece black bathing suit. “About last night?”

Tyler leans back on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him. A ball cap turned backwards on his head, sunglasses covering his eyes, clad in only a pair of board shorts. “I already said what I needed to say. What more is there?”

“I don’t understand his sudden interest in the job. He’s never….in the past five years…ever talked about it. And now he gets the urge to jump into it?”

“He said he’s been thinking about it for a couple of weeks. I guess he finally got enough balls to bring it up.”

“Well he’s going need even more balls if he’s that serious about it. Because if he goes into it as the Ovi he is now, he won’t get through the first day.”

“Guess he’ll have to learn the hard way, won’t he.”

“A hard and very permanent way,” she points out.

“Like you said, he’s a man now. Which means he’s old enough to make his own decisions. And if that’s the decision he wants to make…” his voice trails off and he shrugs.

“You can’t tell me you’re going to just sit back and watch him do it.”

“What else am I supposed to do? Chain him to something? Lock him inside the house? He’s an adult. I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying about him. I’ve got five kids to take care of. I don’t need to be holding his hand and wiping his ass too.”

She frowns. “So you’d just let him do it? Without saying a word?”’

“He knows how I feel about it. What more can I do? As long as he doesn’t find a way to drag my ass back into it, he can do what he wants.”

“And say he does,” she rolls over onto her side, facing him. “Say he does get into the job. What if he gets himself in trouble?”

“I’m sure whoever he’ll work for will have people to help get him out of trouble.”

“But would you be able to stay away?” her hand fiddles with the drawstring on his shorts, twisting it around her middle finger, releasing it, then repeating the action. “If something goes wrong. We’re not talking about some random off the street, Tyler. We’re talking about Ovi. Our Ovi. It would be like if the twins or Declan got involved. And there’s no way you’d ever let that happen.”

“Those are my kids. My actual kids. That I helped make. There’s a huge difference.”

“But you love him like he’s yours. So it only stands to reason that you’d treat him like your own. That’d you want to help if he got himself into trouble.”

“Well hopefully it won’t come to that, yeah? Hopefully, he’ll smarten up before then. Stop letting Chloe put all kinds of shit in his head.”

“It won’t get that far if you just talk to him.”

“Esme…” he sighs. “…I just told you that…”

“If you actually talk to him. Without losing your temper, without threatening to beat his ass, without having to put the fear of God into him. If you just stay calm and talk to him like a rational and civilized adult.”

“There’s nothing rational about this whole situation.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to flip out. He’ll respond a lot better if you don’t snap and he doesn’t feel scared or threatened.”

“I think he’d be more freaked out if I don’t snap.”

“You have to talk to him,” she insists, undoing the ties on his shorts and then doing them back up again. “You have to get through to him. You can’t just sit back and watch him get into the job. You know what it’s like. That life. You don’t have all those scars on your body for no reason.”

“In all fairness, some are from when I was in the army and from when I’ve done stupid shit when I’ve been drunk.”

“Regardless, the majority are from the job. Including that one,” she reaches up to place a fingertip over the scar on his neck. “And he knows the story behind that one. He was there when it happened. And he knows the aftermath. Yet he’s still thinking about doing this? It makes no sense. I bet you it’s that stupid bitch Chloe. Putting all kinds kind of crap is in head.”

“For some reason she thinks the job is the only thing that makes someone ‘manly’.”

“That’s horseshit. So she’s insinuating you’re not a ‘man’s man’ because you don’t do the job anymore? That’s ridiculous. It takes more of a man to walk away from something to save his marriage and keep his family together, than it does for him to actually stick with the job and lose everything. Anyone can be a mercenary. Within reason. But not everyone can be a good father. And you’re an amazing father. So she can go and get fucked.”

“Feisty,” he grins, and leans down to kiss her. “I like it.”

“I just want to go and throat punch her. Who the hell does she think she is? She has no clue who you are and what you’ve been through. What you still go through. And she wants to have a chat about it, I’m more than willing to beat her ass. I mean chat.”

“As flattered as I am that you want to defend my honour and as much I know you can take her, no one needs to beat anyone’s ass. She’s just…” he searches for the right word.

“Stupid? A moron? A tool? A swamp dwelling, knuckle dragging, thundercunt?”

He chuckles. “I was going to say ignorant, but that last one has a better ring to it. Just leave it. Don’t go and make things worse. You go after her and Ovi will lose it and then we have to put up with his shit. Just ignore her.”

“She pisses me off,” Esme huffs, and rolls over onto her back once more. “First trying to get Ovi into it and then you? I wouldn’t be as mad if she’d left you out of it. How many times to you have to tell people that you’re done? That you’re not going back? Do you they expect you to change your mind?”

“Guess they’d thought I’d be bored by now.”

“And are you?” she asks. “Bored?”

“I have five kids. When do I have the time to be bored?”

“It’s a different kind of active, though,” she reasons. “You’re stuck in the same place. Day after day. With the same people.”

“First of all,” he sits up, wiping his palms together to clear the sand off them, then places a hand on her stomach and leans down to kiss her. “I’m not stuck. This…what we have…this is not stuck. This is far from being stuck. This is where I want to be. With my kids. With you.”

“But what you do now is a far cry from what you used to you before me.”

“I was an alcoholic addicted to pain pills before I met you. That’s not exactly living the dream.”

“I meant the job. How busy it kept you. You were always on the go.”

“I’m always on the go now, so…”

“It’s different. Way different. You went from one type of craziness to another. It’s a huge change. You can’t tell me there’s not some kind of let down. That your body and your brain doesn’t feel that. You don’t miss it at all?”

“Is this a trick question? I feel like if I answer this the wrong way, I’m going to be sleeping on the couch for a while.”

“I’m not trying to trick you. It’s a legitimately honest question. I don’t expect you to just get it out of your system and act like that life never existed. You did the job for years. It was part of who you were. And to just walk away and trade it in for something more…I don’t know…boring….”

“Being with you and my kids is not boring. So get that shit out of your head right now.”

“Okay so boring wasn’t that right word to use. So…normal. Compared to what you were doing before. It’s a huge difference, Tyler. Between the job and this life. You went from all that danger and craziness to changing diapers and making bottles and teaching little boys how to pee standing up. You can’t tell me there wasn’t some of culture shock thing going on. It’s not like I expected you to just give your old life up and not miss it even the tiniest bit.”

“Do we really have to talk about this? Because I don’t want this turning into a fight. How often do we get to do this? Just sit here like this. I don’t want to ruin it by talking about this shit.”

“I promise you; I am not trying to fight. I’m not going to be mad at whatever your answer is. I just want to know if you miss it sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he admits, and is relieved when she doesn’t frown or scowl. “It’s hard not to. It’s what I did. Who I was. For a long time.”

“I know it’s been hard on you. Just walking away like that. And I don’t blame you for missing it sometimes. I missed it for a while; after giving it up after Dhaka and staying here. I think I missed it up right until Millie was born. Then I was suddenly a mom and I never thought of it again. You did a good thing, Tyler. Leaving it behind.”

“I wasn’t going to lose you. Or my kids. I should have walked away a long time ago. Probably would have been a lot easier.”

“Do you miss it enough to ever go back?”

“No,” he replies quickly, confidently. “I don’t. Because I’d miss you and the kids way more than I’ll ever miss the job.”

She smiles, then lays her hand on the side of his face as he kisses her. “You have to promise me that if you can’t change Ovi’s mind and he does do this, and he does get himself into trouble…”

He frowns. “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“…. you have to promise me you’ll do whatever you have to to help him. That you won’t just leave him to rot somewhere.”

“Whoever he works for will have people to help him and get him out. I’m not…”

“You have to do it,” she insists. “You have to be the one that goes and gets him. You’ll never trust anyone more than you trust yourself in those situations. You have the experience. And you’d never be able to live with yourself if you didn’t go and the worst happened. Promise me, Tyler. That if it comes down to that, you’ll be the one that goes for him.”

“Esme, I can’t. You know I can’t. I’m not man I was before. That guy is gone. He’s not coming back.”

“He’s always going to be somewhere inside of you. It’s whether or not you let him out. And if it comes down to it, Ovi will need that other guy. You know he will.”

Tyler sighs heavily and look out towards his youngest son; crouched in the water, fascinated by the wet sand that slips through his fingers. Just so perfect and so innocent and totally unaware of all the darkness; the monsters and demons that haunt his father’s past.

“I can’t lose you guys,” he says. “I just can’t.”

She reaches up and lays a hand against the side of his face, thumb gliding along his lips, his beard rough against her palm. “You won’t,” she promises.

**** 

“So basically I have this stupid little bitch who lives at my house,” Esme laments, as she and Salena sit on the latter’s back patio, sharing a pitcher of mock cocktails and the pizza Salena had ordered for lunch. Declan playing close by in the sand, Addie on ground next to her; awake and content in her car carrier. “Well technically not in my house. In my guest house.”

“And who is stupid little bitch to you?”

“The girlfriend of my oldest. Not my biological oldest, obviously. Friends of our passed away and they named us as his guardians in their will,” the lie is so well rehearsed and used to often that it rolls easily off the tongue. “Ovi. We’ve had him for five years. He just turned twenty.” 

“I think I might have seen him the other day. Walking Macaroni. I was dropping some things off and saw them wander by. Tall, fairly built, darker skin?”

Esme nods and sips her drink, wishing for the first time in months that there was booze in it. “He met this girl when we lived in Colorado. I shouldn’t even call her a girl. She’s a grown ass woman. Twenty-four. And if you knew Ovi, you’d know that he’s still a kid in some ways. Anyways, we made the mistake of letting her come with us. Only because we were worried if we didn’t, he’d stay behind even though he’s nowhere near ready to be away from us. She seemed okay at first. But now…”

“Total nightmare?”

“You have no idea. Without going into too much detail, she’s trying to get him mixed up in the same line of work my husband used to do. And it’s a tough haul. Lots of travelling, a ton of stress, some danger tossed in the mix. It’s just messy. And it’s caused a lot of problems in my marriage. A lot. To the point we split up for six months a few years ago. And to the point we see a marriage counsellor. Which is not fun, trust me. He is not the type that opens up to a lot of people. And he absolutely hates that he has to do it with a complete stranger. Sometimes I think it’s causing more harm than good. But…” she shrugs.

“Must have been one hell of a job by the sounds of it,” Salena comments.

“It was. It was a nightmare. Again, without going into too much detail, he almost died. In a work related incident.” Those words make it sound so simple, when in fact it’s anything but. “And he spent months in the hospital and months in rehab and therapy and then he got dragged back into it all over again. How and why isn’t important. But he left it for a reason. A very good and very legitimate reason. And this stupid little bitch came up with a business idea that Ovi and my husband go back into the job together.”

Salena frowns. “If it’s that stressful and dangerous, why the hell would anyone want to do it?”

“Exactly. Why? She has it in her head that it’s some kind of exciting, amazing life. And it’s not. It sucks. It’s hard and it’s scary and it causes so many issues. Yet none of that seems to matter to her.”

“Did you talk to her about it? See what her explanation is?”

“I don’t want to talk to her. I want to punch her in the throat. It’s one thing trying to get Ovi involved. That’s bad enough. But to try and get my husband back into it? I won’t tolerate that shit. He’s been through enough. He doesn’t need that on top of everything else.”

“Well I know what I would do,” Salena says, as she helps herself to another slice of pizza. “Confront her. Then throat punch her.”

Esme laughs. “I promised I wouldn’t make things worse. That I wouldn’t cause even more issues. I get a little worked up and irrational and it always comes back to bite me in the ass. So as much as I want to hurt her, it’s probably best I keep my distance from her.”

“Why not just kick her ass out? It’s your place.”

“Because Ovi would freak out and leave. And that’s the worst thing that could happen. He is totally not ready to be away from us. Like I said, he’s twenty but a lot younger in some ways.”

“No wonder. If he lost both his parents. That would mess anyone up.”

Esme nods, then finishes her drink and leans down to tend to Addie when she begins to fuss. Placing the handle for the soother between her teeth as she unbuckles the car carrier straps, and then checks for a dirty diaper before lifting her infant daughter to her chest. The contact brings almost instant calm; one hand on the back of her head, the other on her bum, patting gently. “He’s been through a lot,” she says, as she spits the soother into the carrier. “Things I wouldn’t wish on anyone. And he still needs family. Regardless of what this girl says.”

“Sounds like she needs to be put in her place.”

“Oh, she does,” Esme agrees. “And believe me, I’d love to be the one who does it. She had no clue what my life has been like. The things I’ve seen. All the days and weeks I’ve spent worried out of my mind that husband might not come home. So for her to think it’s exciting and fun? I won’t let some delusional little girl try to downplay anything I’ve been through.”

“Well, I don’t know exactly what you’re talking about or what you went through, but you sound like one hell of a strong person.”

“I don’t see myself that way. I did I what I had to do. Right from the beginning. And she’s just childish and ridiculous and I want to shake the shit out of her.”

Declan abandons playing in the sand and makes his way up onto the patio, a pout on his face, heels of his palms rubbing at his eyes.

“Someone is tired,” Esme presses a kiss to his forehead and curls an arm around his waist, helping him up onto her lap. He’s big and strong for his age, but extremely cautious and gentle around his sister; careful not to bump her as he straddles his both of his mother’s thighs, wraps his arms and her neck and lays his head against her chest. “We should get home, baby boy. So you can nap in your own bed and not be a grumpy shit until bedtime.”

Salena gets to her feet and offers assistance, taking Addie and strapping her into the carrier and covering it with a receiving blanket. “Are you going to be okay? Carrying both of them?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Esme laughs. “I used to have to carry twins when they were both his size. At the same time.”

“Well I’m glad you called. I like our little get togethers.”

“So do I. You’ll have to come to my place next. I warn you now, it’s chaos over there. Controlled chaos, but still chaos. It’s crazy and it’s loud and no one ever lasts more than half an hour.”

Salena laughs. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“You haven’t meet the other three. They’re a little….”

“Is that from mom or dad?”

“Dad. Definitely Dad. He’s mellowed out though. He’s found his happy place” she shoves her feet into her flop flops and picks up the baby carrier. “You ready, buddy?” she asks Declan, and he gives a small nod, eyes already closing. “I’m going to take the beach. In case I drop him. He won’t get hurt if he falls on the sand. But you didn’t hear me say that.”

“I heard nothing. I promise.”

They exchange a quick hug and then Esme steps off the patio and begins the journey home.

****

Esme doesn’t wait for the door to fully open before pushing her way inside, startling Chloe who’s answered in nothing more than a bathrobe and her hair wrapped in a towel.

She tosses a handful of mail onto the table by the door, then turns to face the younger woman, arms crossed over her chest. “You and I are going to have a little chat.”

“Just come right in,” Chloe mutters. “Make yourself at home.”

“Technically, this is my home. I own this. And practically everything in it. Neither of you pay to live here, you don’t even buy your own groceries, or do your own laundry half the time. What do you actually pay for? A cell phone bill? Please.”

“So that’s what you’re here for? Going to lay down some rules? Make up a chore responsibility chart and bribe me with snacks to get me to do as I’m told? That may work on your brats, but…”

“You know why I’m here. You thought I’d let you off that easily? That last night would be the end of it?”

“I think you need to mind your own business,” Chloe says, stepping past the smaller woman and aggressively -and intentionally- bumping her shoulder with hers.

Scowling, Esme snags her by the wrist, fingers biting through the flesh. “Ovi is my business. He became my business the second his father…his birth father…signed him over to me. And he’s been my business and in my care for five years. So when you start playing these mind games with him and manipulating him….”

“If anyone is playing mind games with him, it’s you and Tyler. Making him think that he can’t survive without the two of you. That he owes you guys something. Putting it in his head that he wouldn’t be able to handle the job. If anyone is manipulating him, it’s the two of you. Especially him.”

“First of all,” Esme tightens the grip on Chloe’s wrist. “Not once have we ever told Ovi that he couldn’t survive without us. We gave him the option. Stay in Colorado at the house with my brother or come here. He chose to come here. He was the one who said he didn’t want to be away from us. That he wanted to be with his family. And for the record, that didn’t include you. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted you coming along in the first place.”

Chloe frowns. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s very true. He wanted a clean break from Colorado. Just like he wanted a clean break from Mumbai. A chance at a different life. It wasn’t until a week before we left that he asked if you could come along. Telling us how you’d begged and pleaded with him not to leave you behind. You put on some big show about you didn’t want to be without him and how a long-distance relationship would never work and it wasn’t ‘your thing’. You were never included in his plans. Not until you realized you’d never have to work, and you could live off of other people. And now there’s talk about engagement rings and weddings and all this bullshit. From a guy that didn’t even want you coming here? I think it’s safe to say whose idea all that other crap is.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about it. He loves me.”

“He’s in love with the idea of you. And I don’t know what you’re in love with, but it’s definitely not him. You think it’s not obvious? That we can’t see right through you? You act like you can barely stand him touching you half the time. His face lights up when you so as much walk in a room and you don’t even bother to acknowledge him nine times out ten. I’m a woman. Women notice these things. We know what it looks like to look at someone you’re in love with. And that is not the look you have.”

“You have no clue what you’re talking about,” Chloe snarls, and yanks her arm out of Esme’s grasp. “Not all women are like you. We don’t all fall at a man’s feet when he so as much opens his mouth to speak. We’re not all put on this earth to do nothing but worship a man, fuck him, and give him tons of kids.”

“Do you just talk to hear your own voice? Because everything you just said is the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve heard in a long time. And I’ve heard a lot of bullshit. You think you have what it takes to hurt my feelings? Oh honey, bless your heart. I’ve dealt with bigger and better than you and have brought them to their knees.”

“Ovi is going to do what he wants. Whether you like or it not.”

Esme smirks. “You mean he’s going to do whatever you tell him to do.”

“That’s your field of expertise, isn’t it,” Chloe counters. “You got Tyler to do exactly what you wanted. He left the job. All because you couldn’t handle it. Because you’re pathetic and weak and…”

“He left because he wanted to. Because he’d had enough. Because he was sick and tired of constantly worrying if he’d see his kids again.”

“And because he’s fucked up in the head. You forgot that part.”

Esme’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that. Don’t EVER talk about him like that.”

“It’s true, isn’t it? I mean, he’s on meds, he sees a shrink…”

“He has PTSD you stupid bitch. And do you want to know why? Because he had to go into some goddamn shit hole to save Ovi’s ass. And because he nearly died doing it. If it wasn’t for Tyler, Ovi wouldn’t even be here. So I’d watch the way you speak about him to me. I will not hesitate fucking you right up. You honestly think Ovi would be able to handle the job? Do you even know what the job entails? It isn’t just getting to travel all over the globe and see sights and eat different foods. You’re out there putting your ass on the line…risking your own life….to save someone else’s. You think that’s easy? That it doesn’t come with risks?”

“I think it’s not as bad as you’re making it out be.”

“Oh really,” Esme gives a dry laugh. “So you think killing people is easy? That it doesn’t bother you in some way?”

“Not if they deserve it.”

“It doesn’t work that way. It still bothers you. All that blood on your hands? That’s blood that never washes off. Your conscience can’t be cleaned. That shit stays with you. You don’t ever forget the things you had to resort to. It isn’t just shooting someone and being done with it. Sometimes it’s using your bare hands and it’s brutal and gruesome and it makes you sick to your stomach that you had to resort doing those things. You have no clue what that life is like. And I hope you never have to find out.”

“Well I’m going to,” Chloe remains steadfast. “He’s going to do this. You can’t stop him.”

“We can. You seem to underestimate the power we actually have him over him. Have you ever talked to Ovi about what he went through? What he saw? Ask him about Dhaka. Ask him about the Sultana Kamal Bridge and a man named Saju. Who busted his ass to help and never got to go home to his wife and his little boy. You ask him about Gaspar and Farhad. And then you ask him what it’s like to watch someone get shot in the throat and just about bleed to death in front of you. Ask him and actually listen to what he has to say. Give a shit about him for once.”

“I do give a shit about him,” Chloe argues. 

“If you gave a shit about him, you wouldn’t want him doing the job. You’d want him as far away from it as possible. I know what the life is like. I know what it’s like to watch the person you love slowly dying. And I’m not talking physically. That was bad enough. I’m talking mentally. Do you know what that’s like? To watch the person you love more than life itself being destroyed because of their own mind? To hear them talk about wanting to kill themselves? To watch them start turning into some former version of themselves? Because I do. And it’s better now but I still worry about it every goddamn day. Which is why I am begging you not to let Ovi do this. You need to be discouraging him, not encouraging him. Because he may not physically suffer or die, but he will mentally. And sometimes that’s even worse.”

“I just think it would be good for him. That it would be a chance for him to ‘man up’ and…”

“Man up? What the hell is that supposed to mean? He’s somehow less of a man because he isn’t doing the job? That doesn’t even make any sense. Any dick can be taught how to use a gun and take someone down with their bare hands. Some of the biggest dumb asses I know are mercenaries. They can’t string a sentence together but they can kill people. When did killing people become how we measure a man?”

“It would toughen him up.”

“Ovi is plenty tough. Believe me. Everything he’s been through? You’re lucky you have a man that’s as tough as he is. And the next time I hear you say something about my husband being less of a man because he left the job, I will hand you your ass. Because he is everything a man…a real man…should be. It took more strength and more courage for him to walk away and fight for his family than it ever did for him to kill someone. And if you knew anything about what a man should be like, you wouldn’t be talking the shit you do. Trust me. Ovi is a good person. A good man. Just the way he is. And I’m not going to let you destroy him. And there is no way in hell you’re going to get my husband dragged back into that bullshit. So you can fight back all you want, but I’m just going to fight you twice as hard. Don’t underestimate me, little girl. I could have your ass out on the street by dinner time and I wouldn’t even feel the least bit sorry about it.”

“You couldn’t,” Chloe snarls.

“Oh I could. Just watch me. You need to lay off this job shit. Because Ovi is way too good of a person to get into that live and I will not allow you to get my husband dragged back into it. So you fix this. You get this stupid idea out of Ovi’s head. Or you can pack your shit right now and leave and find less of a man to put up with your crap.”

“I’m not going to down without a fight you know,” Chloe calls after Esme as she heads for the door. “You don’t know who you’re going up against.”

“Little girl, please. Stay in your lane. You fix this, Chloe. And you fix it ASAP. Or I will have you tossed out on your ass.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to. Who you’re messing with. Who…”

“What are going to do? Call your ex military daddy up to come here and put me in my place? Fuck you. Chloe. And your stupid goddamn ideas.” And with that, she slams the door behind her.


	9. Chapter 9

They don’t speak on the drive into town; the tension that hovers over them thick and suffocating. Tyler can’t remember the last time he’s felt this agitated with Ovi. If he’s ever felt this way. Where every little movement the kid makes or even the slightest clearing of the throat or a small cough is enough to sever that last shred of sanity. And when out of the corner of his eye he sees Ovi’s fingers begin to tap against his knees, he snaps at him to ‘knock it the fuck off’. It’s never bothered him that badly; even in Dhaka it had only been a minor annoyance. But Ovi hasn’t done it in years; stopping almost immediately after that’d taken him to Colorado. Where his life had been simpler and less stressful, and he wasn’t looking over his shoulder ninety nine percent of the time and his nerves were no longer as raw and fragile. And it’s more irritating that he’s slipping back into old habits than the actual habit itself. 

“It just annoys me,” he explains, his tone softer. Apologetic. And he knows he isn’t on edge just because of the fallout from the night before. It’s been three days since he’s taken the Valium, always cutting them out when he feels as if he’s doing better and no longer needs them. Then having to suffer the consequences not only when he’s off the med, but when he starts back up and has to deal with the brutal side effects all over again. “What are you so nervous about anyway?” he asks. 

“You,” Ovi readily admits. 

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” 

He shrugs. 

“If I was going to lose my shit on you, I would have done it while we were still in the driveway.” 

“I know you’re still pissed,” Ovi says. “I can tell.” 

“Yeah? How?” 

“You’ve been doing twenty over the speed limit since we left the house. Your knuckles keep cracking because you’re holding the steering wheel so tight. Just like your jaw keeps popping because you’ve got it clenched so hard. And have you ever looked in the mirror when you’re mad? At your eyes?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“You don’t even have to say anything. It’s all on your face. It’s all in your eyes.” 

He’s been told that before. Many times. That he doesn’t even have to utter a word; that one look is enough to let someone know to either tread lightly or just avoid him altogether. It isn’t something he’s exactly proud of. It may have come in handy while on the job, but in his personal life it’s been pure and utter hell. His own wife having to often walk on eggshells because she can just tell when it’s been a bad day, or those demons are getting ready to surface. Of all the people who shouldn’t have to feel that way, it’s her. The person who’s been by his side through the lowest of all the goddamn lowest and has seen him at the darkest points in his life. Who’d put her own ass on the line back on that bridge in Dhaka, sticking by him and keeping him alive even though there was a very real chance that both of them could end up dead. 

“I get it. You’re mad,” Ovi sighs. “And you’ve got every right to be. I shouldn’t have caused problems last night. After dinner. With Esme.” 

“You think that’s what I’m most pissed about?” Tyler scoffs. “The fact that you upset her?” 

“I know how protective you are. I know you don’t like people overstepping when it comes to her. That you don’t like to see her upset.” 

“I don’t. I fucking hate seeing her upset. Especially when she cries. But we worked through all that last night and put it behind us. She’s dealing with some stuff. Stuff her and I are going to work on together and make sure she gets through. Trust me, it wasn’t just Chloe opening her big goddamn mouth that caused issues.” 

“That isn’t the way I wanted it come out,” Ovi sighs. “I wanted to tell her myself. I didn’t want her to find out like that.” 

“I didn’t want her to find out at all. There was no reason for her to find out about it. Once I told you that I wasn’t interested, that should have been it. And you should have told Chloe to keep her mouth shut. Now Esme’s ready to throat punch her and I don’t think that’s the hill Chloe wants to die on. You know how Esme gets.” 

Ovi’s eyes widen as he nods. It takes a lot to get Esme to the point of losing it, but he’s been there when it’s happened, and it isn’t a pretty sight. How a little thing like her can have that much rage and vengeance inside of her is both impressive and terrifying. 

They find an empty parking spot across the street from Ovi’s restaurant of choice; a newly opened sports bar that features traditional pub fare and twenty different domestic and foreign beers in tap. Tyler can smell it the second they step through the door, the powerful mixture of various types of alcohol. And it makes him nauseous and triggers the craving. It’s been intense the last four days, and Ovi’s announcement of wanting to try his hand at the job had kicked things into high gear; he can practically taste it on his lips. But it’s more than Ovi and the job. So much more. The cutting of the Valium cold turkey, the rapid approach of Millie’s six birthday and the dreams he’s been having of her and Austin, the pain that never seem to cease despite taking those meds religiously. 

They’re offered a seat at the bar that Tyler declines and suggests the sparsely populated outdoor patio. There are two reasons: he can avoid breathing in the scent of booze and seeing people enjoying their drinks, and his back won’t be to the door. He can’t break himself of the habit. For years...decades even...he’s had to sit facing any entrance or exit. It’s safer that way; no one can speak up on you and try to put a bullet in your head or slit your throat. It’s happened to a few mercenaries that have stepped on the wrong toes: letting their guard down and meeting an untimely and gruesome end. He wonders if he’ll ever get over it. The need to always have his guard up. If one day he’ll get up in the morning and the hyper-vigilance won’t exist anymore. If he’ll sleep through the night without even the lightest of noises immediately wake him. If he won’t constantly be on the lookout for even the slightest hint of danger or find something suspicious in even the smallest of action. If he’ll stop viewing everything he sees...everyone he comes across....as a potential threat. 

The waitress seems disappointed when they both opt for ice water as opposed to beer. Booze makes the bill higher, which in turn makes her for a bigger tip. 

“Yeah, well my sobriety is a little more important than helping you out,” he informs her, and she gives him a sympathetic, understanding smile and has the gall to lay her hand on the top of his bicep and actually give it a slight squeeze. And he frowns as he watches her head back into the restaurant, shaking his head when she gives him a long glance over her shoulder before disappearing inside. 

“Everywhere we go,” Ovi laments. “Everywhere." 

“You think you have it bad. I’ve got strangers trying to feel me up all the time.” 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t look like that,” Ovi suggests. 

“Or maybe you should step up and take one for the team and get your game on. I’ve got a wife to keep happy. She likes the way I look. You’ve just got Chloe and anything’s a step up from that. So....” 

Ovi ignores the cheap shot and flips open the menu in front of him. “So what’s going on?” he asks. “With Esme? Is she okay?” 

“Not really,” Tyler admits. “But she will be.” 

“Is she sick or...” 

“Look mate, I know you’re worried. I know how close the two of you are. How much you love her. But I love her more. And I respect her. Which means I can’t tell you. It’s personal. And we’re dealing with it.” 

“But she’ll be okay, right? Like she’s not going to die or anything like that?” 

“It’s nothing like that. I promise. It’s just personal and she’s struggling and it’s something we need to deal with. That I have to help her with. She’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to her.” 

Ovi sighs and begins drumming his fingers against the tabletop. Stopping and giving an apologetic smile when Tyler glares at him. “Sorry,” he moves his hand to his thigh. Out of sight, out of mind. “I just worry,” he says. “I don’t want anything bad happening to her. She didn’t give birth to me, but she’s still my mom. She’s the only mom I remember having. I don’t want to lose that.” 

“She’s going to be fine,” Tyler assures him. “You just have to trust me. That I’ll help her through things.” 

“I do,” Ovi says. “Trust you.” 

“Yeah?” he sips his water. “So why didn’t you trust me enough to come to me sooner. About the job. That’s why we’re here, right? You want to talk about it in a public place because you know I won’t lose my shit on you.” 

“Maybe,” Ovi sheepishly admits. 

“I don’t know what more you want me to say. You know how I feel about it. You think it’s a terrible idea. That I think you’re way too good for that life. That you deserve a lot better than that.” 

“So did you,” Ovi points out. “You deserved a lot better than that. But you still went into it.” 

“I deserved shit. I was a fucking mess. Addicted to booze, addicted to pills, I’d abandoned my own kid when he was dying. I was a horrible fucking person and I deserved everything fucked up that the job entailed. I didn’t give a shit if I lived or died. I just didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger myself. Figured if someone did it for me, it was an easy way out. And if I did survive, I’d get paid for doing it. Win win, don’t you think?” 

“I think that’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard,” Ovi says. “You made some mistakes. You were in a bad place. Especially when your son was sick. Doesn’t mean you had to pay for those decisions with your life. That’s just...I don’t know...wrong." 

“It’s where I was at the time. It’s what I felt I deserved. And if I’d died in Dhaka...” he shrugs. “...I died.” 

“That’s messed up. You’ve paid for your mistakes. For your bad decisions. When you got me across the bridge. One good thing erases all the bad. You didn’t have to do it, but you did. You could have just left me in the street. When you knew there was no money. But you didn’t. You still put yourself on the line to get me out of there. A bad person doesn’t do something like that. And you can’t convince me otherwise.” 

He’d been looking for an absolution. Redemption, even. To wipe his slate clean. Some days he feels as if he’s found it. That he’d been given a second chance to be a good person; blessed with a wife and five amazing kids and a peaceful, comfortable life. Other days he feels as if he’s still stuck in the same nightmare. Guilt that plagues him, dreams that haunt his sleep, a brain that won’t let him truly rest. 

“I just want to try it,” Ovi says. “The job. Just to see if it’s my thing.” 

“It isn’t something you just ‘try’. You either go in balls to wall or you don’t go in it all. You want to try something? You want excitement? You want to test your adrenaline? Go bungee jumping or cliff diving or sky diving or shit like that. Don’t go into the job. Because it isn’t excitement you’re going to find. It’s death. And lots of it.” 

“I like the idea of the risk. The danger.” 

“All of a sudden you get off on having a gun held to your head? Or having to fight off a group of guys in a dark alley? Or constantly wondering if there’s a sniper getting ready to put a bullet in your brain? Fuck that. You’re smarter than this. Way too smart to think any of this is a good idea. And if it’s Chloe putting this bullshit in your head...” 

“It’s not Chloe,” Ovi interjects. “It’s not. It’s me.” 

“Bullshit. Because you’ve never once talked about any of this since she came along. Tell her if she has a death wish, she can go out and do the job. Get her to commit. Don’t let her throw you to the wolves, mate. Don’t let her make you think you’ve got something to prove or that this is the only thing that will ‘make you a man’. Because that’s shit and we both know it. That’s not what makes a man a man. Killing people. And it doesn’t matter if they deserve it or not.” 

“You don’t think I can handle it, do you.” 

“I know you can’t. And that’s not a slight on you. Some people are made to do the job, and some people aren’t. Some people are made for bigger and better things. And you’re one of these people. You’re made for bigger and better things. Why would you want to settle for anything less?” 

Ovi shrugs. “I want to do some good. After what you did for me in Dhaka....” 

“I did what I had to do, mate. What I wanted to do. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I don’t expect thanks. And I don’t expect you to spend the rest of your life showing how grateful you are. I just want you to happy and live a good life. A good, long life. And that won’t happen if you get into the job. There’s rarely a good ending, trust me.” 

“You’ve been given a good ending,” Ovi points out. 

“And I’ve probably used up all of the good luck that can come to one family. So about we not test it, yeah? How about you just forget about all of this and find something else to do with your life. Go back to school. Get an education. Get into a real career. I’ll pay for it. No hesitation. Just don’t do the job. That’s all I’m asking. That you do not get into that life.” 

Ovi nods slowly as he considers Tyler’s words; eyes riveted on his menu, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “I have a confession to make,” he speaks after several minutes. 

“I don’t think I like the sounds of this.” 

“I’ve been talking to someone. About all of this. For a while now. Someone that’s still in the business and could answer all my questions and lead me in the right direction. Someone that wouldn’t freak out and threaten to beat my ass.” 

“Someone who would encourage you to do stupid shit you mean,” Tyler concludes. 

“I needed to talk about it. With someone who wouldn’t get upset about it. Who doesn’t have the history like you do. So...” his voice trails off. 

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the hell did you do?” 

That's when he feels it; a presence lingering off to his right. A familiar scent. A firm hand that falls on his shoulder. And he doesn’t even need to look back. He just knows. 

“Hey Nik.” 

**** 

“You look good,” she says in way of greeting, her hands massaging his shoulders. “The retired life suits you.” He’s considerably bigger now; wider, stronger, a brick wall of muscle. The time he’s both devoted to the gym and living cleaner makes him feel healthier. And happier. 

He smirks. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but...” 

“I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome. At least not from you. But it’s good to see you, Tyler I’m glad life has been treating you well. Of all the people who want a happy ending, you're the one who actually deserved it.” 

“What are you doing here, Nik? I know it’s not just to stroke my ego.” 

“Ovi invited me,” she gives his shoulders a final squeeze before sliding around to the other side of the table, waving down the waitress before slipping into the empty seat alongside of the younger man. “So we could talk. We haven’t seen or talked to each other in six months. I was starting to worry about you.” 

“You mean you were starting to get nosy,” Tyler retorts. “Wanted to see if my life had fallen apart. If maybe my wife had taken off with my kids yet. Kyle doesn’t keep you up to date on this stuff? I am married to his sister.” 

“Kyle’s been very adamant about keeping his loyalties to his sister. The last time Esme and I spoke, things didn’t end very well. She was stressed, you were on your way home, and she was worried about how to help you. Things were a little...harsh...between us.” 

“For a reason,” Tyler points out. “I know exactly what you talked about and what she said to you. We don’t keep secrets. So cut the bullshit, Nik. What are you doing here?” 

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?” 

“I’d believe you if you told me you missed the things I can do for you. And I’m not talking behind closed doors, either. So don’t get your hopes up.” 

Ovi shifts uncomfortably in his seat; thankful when the waitress comes to take Nik’s drink order. It lifts the tension and the hostility, at least temporarily. 

“Last time we talked, things didn’t go so well,” she address Tyler. “You told me to never contact you. Never to just show up out of the blue, never to text you, never email you.” 

“Yet here you are so for some reason. Tracking me down where I live. Which I’m pretty sure I told Kyle to never mention to you. So you couldn’t just show up.” 

A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You of all people should know I have ways of finding things out. You’re harder than most, I have to admit. You know how to cover your tracks. You barely leave a footprint. Still holding onto certain things, I see. Trying to exist but seem like a ghost at the same time. Old habits die hard, don’t they, Tyler.” 

“You have no right being here, Nik. I asked you to stay away from me. No. I told you to stay away from me. I finally have a life. Somewhere quiet and peaceful where I don’t have to constantly look over my shoulder and I know my kids are safe. And you...” he stares pointedly at Ovi. “...what the fuck, mate? You knew I’d cut ties with her. With everyone involved in the job. Yet you go and do this?” 

“Ovi thought it was a good idea that you and I talk,” Nik speaks for him. “We haven’t touched base in a long time. It’s a good idea, don’t you think? If we get used to one another again? I am marrying your brother in law.” 

They’d gotten the invitation a month ago; thick ivory card stock with gold leafing on the inside of the envelope and the invitation itself covered in dried, pressed flowers and ornate calligraphy done in rich cooper colored ink. It hadn’t been much of a surprise; Kyle had already created an entire Facebook page just to document their journey as an engaged couple. And while they’d tried to be happy for Kyle’s sake, there was a lingering bitterness towards Nik that neither of them could let go of. She’d worked too long and too hard trying to destroy their marriage, why would they want to have anything to do with hers? So the invitation sat on the top of the fridge collecting dust and they never spoke of it again. 

“And you’ll be living in Colorado or wherever the hell you’ll drag his ass to, and I won’t have to have anything to do with either of you. I don’t care if you’re marrying him or not. As long as you stay away from me, stay away from my wife, and stay away from my kids.” 

“That’s not the way to treat a relative is it,” she coyly remarks, then gives a nod of appreciation to the waitress as she returns with her martini. “The baby’s beautiful by the way. Congratulations. Kyle’s shown me the pictures. She looks just like Esme. I’m looking forward to meeting my niece.” 

“You’re not going to get close enough to meet her face to face, so...” 

“Can’t you two just stop?” Ovi pleads. “Enough. Enough with this going back and forth. That’s not what we’re here for.” 

“What are we here for?” Tyler asks, as he leans back in his chair and places his clasped hands on his stomach. “And don’t give me some bullshit, Nik. Just say what you want and get out of here.” 

“Ovi asked me to come and talk some sense into you.” 

“More like he wanted me to just cave in and agree with what he wants to do. Not going to happen. So if that’s what you’re going to try and do, you’re wasting your time and you should just get on the next flight out of here and...” 

“I’ve been recruiting him,” she says. “I’ve been recruiting him for about a month now. After he contacted me wanting information about the job.” 

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the hell are you doing, Nik? And why are you doing it? We both know that he’s not job material. That he wouldn’t last a day out there.” 

“He’s tenacious, has a lot of energy, he’s smart.” 

“Too smart to get involved with this. There are a million and one better things he could be doing with his life. And being tenacious and having a lot of energy doesn’t mean shit when you’re out there. When you’ve got to make the quick decisions in order to keep yourself alive. He doesn’t have what it takes. He doesn’t have it in him to hurt people. He killed Gaspar and that fucked him up for years.” 

“He was a kid then,” she reminds him. “And if I remember correctly, I’m the one that said calling Gaspar wasn’t a good idea. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were so determined that he’d help you out because you’d saved his life. How did that go for you, Tyler? Trusting him? It didn’t take long for his loyalty to you to disappear, did it. As soon as there was ten million put on the table. Ten million for him and Esme, right? That was the deal. Most men would have taken it.” 

“What can I say, Nik?” he smirks. “I’m not most men.” 

“He would have killed you to get to them. He wouldn’t have stopped until you were dead. And if Ovi hadn’t have picked up that gun...” 

“He was fourteen years old and it fucked him up,” Tyler angrily interrupts. “It doesn’t mean if has what it takes to go out there and kill people. You’re smarter than this. Both of you are. So I don’t know who is brainwashing who, but...” 

“You made me a promise, Tyler,” she says. “We made a deal. That I’d start a second branch and you’d run things.” 

“That’s before things ended the way they did. Once I walked away from New Zealand, that was it. Fuck our deal. It meant shit after that.” 

“I’ve offered Ovi a job. A position with my team. As a mercenary.” 

“You’re out of your fucking mind, Nik. You’re both out of your minds. This is a bad goddamn idea and you know it. I gotta get out of here before I say or do something I really regret. I’ve got places I’d rather be than sitting here listening to this bullshit ” 

Ovi throws his hands up in a mix of disappointment and exasperation and Nik instructs him to stay where he is as she hurries after Tyler, who easily escapes the patio just by swinging one leg over the makeshift fence, then the other. She has to leave through the restaurant itself, and he’s already across the street and using the keyless remote to unlock his truck. 

“You owe me this,” Nik growls, and lays a hand on the driver’s side window, forcing the door closed when Tyler tries to open it. 

“I owe you shit. I’ve given you enough. I almost gave you my fucking life. Isn’t that good enough for you? You were perfectly fine with leaving me on that bridge to die.” 

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” 

“It took you twenty minutes to come back. And you only did it because Yaz said he was going with or without you. You weren’t just going to leave me there; you were going to leave Esme there. Do you know what would have happened? Once Asif sent more people down there and saw that she was alive? Do you know what they would have done to her? I wouldn’t have been as quick and painless as a bullet in the head. They would have made her suffer and you knew it and you still left her there.” 

“It all worked out in the end, didn’t it? The two of you. Marriage, five kids. You got your happy ending, didn’t you?” 

“Because that’s what makes it all okay, yeah? That things didn’t get worse. We were expendable. Once you got Ovi, you didn’t give a shit about either of us. You could keep whatever money you got. Two less people to have to share it with. Or were you that pissed about what went down? Those five days in the hotel. You knew what was going on. Did it piss you off that bad? That you’d just leave us there to die? Did we need to be punished, Nik? You needed to get even because it wasn’t you I was fucking.” 

“Fuck you, Tyler!” she snaps, and he catches her by the wrist before the slap can even connect with his face. His fingers biting straight through the flesh and pressing painfully against the bone. 

“What do you want?” he hisses. “Why are you here? You won’t be happy until you completely fuck up my life? Until my wife leaves me and takes my kids?” 

“That’s not it. At all.” 

“Then what is it?” he snarls. “Quit wasting my fucking time and tell me.” 

“I want your help,” she struggles against his grasp “With Ovi.” 

“I’m not giving you shit.” 

“I want you to just listen to me....and ow!” she lays her forearm against his chest and tries to shove him away. It’s as successful as trying to move a brick wall with your bare hands. “You’re hurting me!” 

“Try to hit me again and I won’t hesitate putting you on your ass, understand me?” 

She nods, then takes two steps back once he releases. “I just want you to listen to me. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for. I don’t to bring you back into the job. I just want you to help me with Ovi. I’ve given him a spot but on condition. He needs training. Lots of it. I can’t send him into a situation without him knowing how to handle different weapons, hand to hand to combat, how to assess situations and problems before they arise.” 

“I’m about five seconds away from washing my hands of this. Of you, of him, of this goddamn bullshit mess. This is a mistake. A huge mistake. And I’m not going to just sit back and watch you fuck his life up. He doesn’t have it, Nik. And I know you see that. I know you see what I do. Why the hell push it? Why encourage when you could be helping him make his life better, not worse.” 

She places her hands on her hips, regarding him with her head cocked to the side. “Why are you so against him doing this?” 

“You’re actually asking me that? After everything he’s been through. After everything he saw in Dhaka. After living with us for five years and seeing my marriage nearly fucking destroyed because of the job. You have the nerve to ask me that? He’s better than this. And he deserves better and I’m not going just sit here and watch you screw up his entire life.” 

“You can’t stop him, Tyler. He’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions.” 

“He can’t even talk for himself and you think he can go into a place like Dhaka and handle shit? Enough with the bullshit, Nik. This ends. Right here. Right now. This is a mistake and you know it. And the fact you would even prey on him like this...” 

“I didn’t prey on him,” she interjects. “He contacted me.” 

“And you could have told him that you weren’t interested and to never call you again.” 

“And then what? Him find someone else? Someone that doesn’t have nearly the same experience? That would have ended badly, and you know it.” 

“This is going to end badly!” Tyler snarls. “Because he doesn’t have it and you know it and I know it. For fuck sakes, Nik. Enough.” 

She remains steadfast. “You can train him.” 

“Like hell I can!” 

“You’re the best mercenary I’ve ever had. There’s no one that can train him the way you can. I know you think you’re probably rusty and you...” 

“That’s not what I think. That has nothing to do with it. I’m not saying I can’t do it. I’m saying I won’t do it. I’m not getting involved with this. I’m done.” 

“You don’t actually have to go on a job,” she informs him. “It can all be done right here. There are gyms, there’s firing ranges, there’s an entire beach at your disposal you can use to your advantage. I’m not trying to bring you back. I just want you to help.” 

“I’m not helping you, Nik. I was done helping you six months ago. And I love the kid like he’s my own, but I wouldn’t let any of my boys get into the job so I'm sure as fuck not going to let him. What the hell is wrong with you? That you’d even have the nerve to come to me with this?” 

“He’s your son, Tyler. Maybe not by blood. But...” 

“Yeah. He is. Which is why I’m not helping you. I told his old man I’d take care of him. Not throw him to the fucking wolves!” 

“So you’d rather I just send him out there with no training?” she challenges. 

“I’d rather you give your head a fucking shake and realize what a huge mistake you’re making.” 

“This is what he wants, Tyler. He wants a chance to prove himself.” 

“To who? You? To his girlfriend? Who is just as delusional as you, by the way. The two of you should meet. You’d make a great pair.” 

“You ever stop to think he’s trying to prove something to you?” 

“What the hell does that mean? What does he have to prove to me? When have I ever made him think he has to?” 

“You may not have made him feel that way, but he does. He thinks he has to fill your shoes. Take up where you left off.” 

“That’s bullshit. I’ve never made him feel that way. And I never would.” 

“It’s how he feels. He feels he needs to live up to something. That he needs to prove to you that he’s good enough. That he’s worthy of being your son.” 

“Jesus Christ, Nik,” Tyler laughs. “That is really reaching. Are you just making this shit up as you go along?” 

“I can send you the text messages. The emails. That he sent me when I asked him why he wanted to do this. That way you can see for yourself that what I’m saying is the truth. He feels he owes you something. For saving him. And for nearly dying while doing it.” 

“He doesn’t owe me anything. It was my job.” 

“It was more than that and you know it, Tyler. It stopped being about the job the second Mahajan screwed us over. It was all about Ovi from that point on. Because somehow saving him meant you were saving yourself. That you’d find forgiveness for the mistakes you’d made. He saw what you went through. Not just during Dhaka, but after it. And he feels guilty for that. He wants to make it up to you.” 

“He has nothing to make up for. I did what I had to do. Nothing more, nothing less. We both know that he can’t hack it. The job. There’s no way.” 

“He deserves a chance.” 

“A chance for what? Getting shot in the fucking head?” 

“He’s going to do this whether you like it or not, Tyler. Don’t you think he deserves a chance to make a real go of it? To survive his first day.” 

He sighs. “Of course, I do.” 

“If you train him...” 

“I can’t. I can’t encourage him to do this. I told Esme I’d do everything I had to to stop him, not help him.” 

She smirks. “That’s what it comes down to right? His safety and his life isn’t worth more than her trying to control you? She hasn’t done that enough? When she made you walk away?” 

“We’re done, Nik,” he yanks the driver’s side door open. 

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” she shuts the door once again. “You’re going to let her call the shots? Still? It wasn’t enough for you to just walk away? She has to control everything else too?” 

“I made the decision. I’m the one who left. She was the one who told me go back to New Zealand and when I got there, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I left willingly. Because my wife and my kids are the most important things in my life, and it was time I showed that to them.” 

“And Ovi isn’t important to you? He's not important enough to save his life?” 

“I’ve already done that once. And I wouldn’t have to do it a second time if you weren’t encouraging him to do this shit.” 

“And if you weren’t encouraging him to prove to you that he’s worthy of your love. Of being one of your kids.” 

He shakes his head and gives a dry laugh. “I’m going home, Nik. To my wife. I’m done. I’m not letting you drag me back into this. You find someone else. I’ve shed enough blood for you.” 

She relents, holding her hands up in surrender as she backs away from the truck. “You’ll regret this Tyler.” 

“Yeah?” he tosses the door open and climbs into the truck. “Add it the list”


	10. Chapter 10

With Declan at Salena’s house for a ‘lunch and play date’, Esme takes advantage of the downtime, spending the first part of her afternoon eating lunch on the back patio while Adeline naps on a blanket nearby. Enjoying the breeze that blows in off the ocean, the way the sun glistens on the water, and the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore. It’s peaceful; a welcome relief from the earlier incident with Chloe and the drama that had ensued the night before. She has a chance to let her brain finally rest, losing herself in the petty drama on social media posts and reading celebrity gossip blogs. Simple, mindless pleasures that help take her mind off things; the worry revolving around Ovi, the problems TJ is having at school, her own battle with mental health issues. 

Today is a better day; the dark overhead not as dense and terrifying. She’s able to find happiness in the sunshine and the sound and the smell of the ocean and the sight of her infant daughter fast asleep; long dark eyelashes resting against the top of her cheeks, those rosy, tiny lips pursed, her hair being tousled by the breeze. Content and peaceful; comfortable in just a pink bathing suit with brightly colored unicorns printed on it and ruffles on the bum. Mac curled up beside her; a paw touching her leg, raising his head to watch her when she twitches or makes even the faintest of noises in her sleep. 

After lunch –and when Addie wakes- Esme takes her down the water, crouching down and lightly pressing the baby’s feet in the wet sand, leaving tiny prints behind. Sitting at the edge while the tide rolls in, the baby between her legs and resting back against her, gently splashing the water onto Addie’s legs and tummy; allowing her to get used to the texture and the temperature. Then wading out until the water just reaches the small of Addie’s back as she holds her tightly and protectively against her. There’s no fussing. Not even the slightest of cries or the flinch of discomfort. 

“You are definitely your father’s daughter,” Esme says, as she presses a kiss to Addie’s cheek. “You’re a natural. Definitely not a scaredy cat. When you’re a bit bigger, he’s going have you out here all the time with your brothers and sister. Swimming, teaching you how to surf. All that fun stuff. You look like me, but I think you’re going to be just like him. And that’s a good. A very good thing. Because he is brave and strong and has a huge heart inside that big body of his.” 

Later she spreads a blanket out on the sand and lies down on it, Addie on her stomach and pressed against her mother’s chest; a towel loosely draped over her tiny body to protect her from the sun. The sand is warm and soothing against her back and combined with the heat from the brilliant sunshine and the sounds of the ocean, it’s enough to almost lull her to sleep. She’s exhausted; mentally and physically. It’s been years since she’s been able to indulge in even the smallest bit of self-care, devoting her life to being a wife and a mother. Even a few hours without the other four kids will do wonders for her body and mind. And she’s just beginning to doze off when she feels a slight –yet noticeable- change in the temperature; cracking open an eye to find a shadow cast over her. 

“I was starting to wonder if anybody lived at this dump,” the familiar voice drawls, and her eyes snap open at the sound of it, quickly and carefully sitting Addie down on the blanket before jumping to her feet. 

“Oh my god! Kyle!” The tears are already brimming in her eyes as she practically throws herself against him, and he laughs as he circles her waist with his arms and picks her up off her feet. 

“Hey, kid,” he greets, and presses a kiss to her temple. 

She holds his scruffy face in her hands. “What are you doing here?” 

“Would you believe I came all this way just because I missed my little sister?” He tousles her hair affectionately and places her on the ground. 

“No. But I’ll let you have it. Why didn’t tell us you were coming to visit? So we knew to expect you.” 

“It was kind of a last-minute thing. I had some vacation time owed to me and I thought I'd take advantage of it. And I’ve always wanted to visit Australia, so....” he puts his hands on his hips and emits a long, low impressed whistle as he takes in the surroundings. The beach with its pristine, almost white sand, the expanse of the ocean, the house and the property it sits on. “...here I am. And wow, it’s even better than the pictures and those were pretty impressive.” 

“Isn’t it awesome? It’s everything we could have ever possibly imagined. Every day it gets more and more beautiful. We are so blessed, K. In so many ways.” 

“You guys sure are. I’m not surprised you never want to come back to the States. I wouldn’t want to if I lived here either. You look good, kid,” he reaches out to push wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “How you been feeling?” 

“It’s been a rough one,” Esme admits. “I haven’t really been myself since having Addie.” 

“Post-partum or...?” 

She nods. “Even worse than with Declan. That that was bad enough. But I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow to talk to her about it and get some meds. So I’ll be right as rain soon. I can’t believe you’re here!” She wraps her arms around his torso. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.” 

“Wow, your brain must really be messed up,” Kyle teases, and then jumps backwards with a chuckle when she directs a painful punch towards his stomach. “So where’s this new niece of mine? I didn’t come all this way for nothing, you know.” 

“You’re going to love her,” Esme gushes, and takes him by the hand and pulls him towards the blanket. “She’s so tiny and so beautiful and so perfect. And she looks like me! Finally! It only took how many tries?” 

“Tyler must have used up all the good genes on the first four,” he chides, a broad smile spreading across his face when his sister carefully places Addie in his arms. “Holy shit! She’s even tinier in person! I can’t believe how light she is. Like holding a doll.” 

“Even the preemie diapers and clothes are a bit too big on her right now. She makes all the others seem huge when they were born. Even the twins were bigger, and they were early.” 

“And then there’s Declan who was practically a toddler when he was born.” 

“That was like giving birth to a baby elephant. Wait until you see him. He's at the neighbor's right now, but he’s huge! He’s so tall and he’s solid and so strong. Isn’t she just amazing?” Esme smiles down in pride at her baby girl. “Isn’t she just the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen?” 

Kyle grins. “You’ve said that with every one of them.” 

“But she’s even more so. Look at her. How beautiful she is. Look at all that hair and those huge eyes and those tiny little ears!” 

“She’s beautiful like her momma.” he declares and pecks his sister’s cheek. “You did good, kid. You did really good.” 

“Well, I can’t take all the credit. I did have some help.” 

“One thing you guys are really good at is making cute kids, that’s for sure. I can’t wait to see them. I can only imagine how big they’ve gotten in just six months. Bet Millie’s growing like a weed.” 

“TJ is almost taller than she is! He’s five, K! There’s no way he should be that tall and have that big of feet. And Tanner...oh my god...wait until you see his hair. He looks so much Tyler. Like the spitting image of him. It used to be TJ, but Tanner has changed so much. You won’t believe it when you see them.” 

“I’ve missed them,” he smiles down at his niece and runs a palm over her hair. “It’s been hard. Being that far away from them. They’re happy though? They’re doing okay?” 

“TJ has had some issues at school. Just some acting out and some aggression. We think he’s just struggling with such a huge change in his life. But we’re going to have a specialist look at him. Just in case it’s something more. It may be nothing. He may just have his dad’s temper and needs to learn how to control it. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.” 

“But happy? Are they happy?” 

“Very. And healthy. They’re thriving here, K. They love school, their grades are good, they have friends. They spend nearly all their time outside when they’re home. They go swimming and fishing and Tyler is teaching them how to surf. They’re in their element. And that’s what we wanted for them. A place they’d be truly happy. Where they’d feel safe and secure.” 

“And you? Other than this post-partum stuff. Are you happy?” 

“It’s probably the happiest I’ve been in about fifteen years. I wish we’d never left. That we’d just stayed here instead of going back to Colorado. It’s where all our problems started. Everything just seemed to go downhill when we moved back there. If we’d just stayed here...” 

“And miss spending time with your favorite big brother? I’m insulted,” he playfully nudges her with his elbow. “Not sense dwelling on it, kid. That’s all behind you now. Can’t go back and change it, so why even think about it? Nothing good ever comes out of wondering ‘what if’.” 

“When did you become so wise and logical?” Esme teases. “That is not the K I remember. The K I remember still loved playing beer pong and doing shots out of random girls’ navels.” 

“Well, you meet a good woman and things change. What can I say?” 

His sister doesn’t respond, instead arching her eyebrows and giving a tight-lipped smile as she gathers up the blanket and shakes it free of sand before folding it. 

“Esme...” Kyle sighs. “...don’t be like that.” 

“Don’t be like what? I didn’t say anything.” 

“You don’t need to. You’ve got that look.” 

She laughs. “I don’t have a look. You’re just imaging I have a look.” 

“I know Nik isn’t your favorite person, but....” 

She scoffs. 

“...she is my fiancée. She’s going to be my wife. You need to give her a chance. I gave Tyler a chance.” 

“You didn’t know Tyler before you met him. I know Nik. I’ve known Nik for years. And ninety percent of that time, she was trying to get my husband to cheat on me. With her. She was doing everything in her power to fuck things up between us.” 

“But she didn’t.” 

“That’s hardly the point. She still did it. Why would you want to be with a woman you know was hell bent on being a homewrecker? And she wasn’t trying to wreck just any home. She was trying to wreck your sister’s home. How can you be okay with that?” 

“She’s already apologized. To you. To Tyler. What more do you want? The past is just that, right? The past. Leave it there. She's changed. You’ll see that for yourself.” 

Esme’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me? I’ll see what for myself?” 

“That Nik’s changed. What?” he chuckles. “You thought I’d take a vacation to Australia alone?” 

“She’s seen plenty of Australia. Including parts I’d rather she’d never seen.” 

“Esme, stop. That’s history.” 

“Yeah, their history. Do you not realize how weird this is for you? That you’re marrying Tyler’s ex....whatever the hell she was? I’m going to be related to a woman that’s had sex with my husband. You don’t find that a little strange?” 

“I can see why it’s a little off putting,” Kyle admits, and then follows her as she heads towards the house. “But it’s been a long time. Since the two of them had a thing. They’ve both moved on. He’s married, has five kids...” 

“None of that matters to her before. Why should it now? It’s just weird, K. It’s just plain weird. That my sister in law was once banging my husband. Boy, that will be interesting conversation around the table at Thanksgiving. ‘Did you know Tyler and I used to fuck? Can you pass the gravy?’”. 

“Okay, so now you’re being a tad irrational.” 

“And it’s not just that,” she continues. “The fact they’ve had sex. On multiple occasions. It’s that Nik used him and manipulated him and preyed on every fear and worry he had to get him back into the job. She knew he had mental health issues and it didn’t even stop her. She didn’t even care. All she cared about was what she could get out of him. So I’m sorry if I’m not thrilled that that’s the woman you’ve decided to spend the rest of your life with.” 

“And like I said. She’s changed. You’ll see that for yourself. All I’m asking is that you give her a chance.” 

“I’ve given her tons of chances,” Esme tosses the blanket onto one of the patio chairs and wipes her feet off on the mat in front of the sliding door before opening it. “How many chances am I supposed to give her?” 

“You’ve given Tyler tons of chances,” he points out. 

“He’s my husband, K. Don’t even compare the two.” 

“Give her one more chance,” he implores, as he follows her into the house. “And do you guys never lock your doors around here? I was able to just walk right in.” 

“No one comes down this way. Except for you now, apparently.” She grabs the tea kettle from the middle of the stove, fills it with water and plugs it in. “I don’t lock them. Tyler does. Because he’s paranoid as fuck.” 

“Of what?” 

“Of anything. Of everything. Of everybody. Wouldn’t you be? After living the life he did? He’s pissed off a lot of people, K. There’s a lot of evil fucks out there that feel he did them wrong. There’s always a chance that someone is out there waiting for the opportunity to get back at him. Or at least that’s how he thinks.” 

“And what do you think?” 

“What I think is irrelevant. It won’t change his mind.” 

“Is he getting any better? Is there any change?” 

“He’s coping a lot better. He’s not as agitated. He doesn’t lose his temper as easily anymore and just fly off the handle. And we definitely do not fight as much as we used to.” 

“But...” he takes a seat at the kitchen table. “...I sense a but coming on.” 

“But...” she gathers the milk from the milk and a container of sugar from the counter, putting both down in the middle of the middle. “...he’s very...protective.” 

“Of you?” 

She nods. 

“Pretty understandable. I mean, you guys have been through some messed up shit together,” he presses a kiss to a now sleeping Addie’s forehead and lays her along his thighs, a hand resting on her stomach to keep her in place. “He’s almost lost you twice. He doesn’t want there to be a third time. Any guy would be protective after going through what he’s gone through.” 

“We’re not talking about what other guys would do. Let’s not pretend that Tyler is like other guys. How many of these other guys are...were...mercenaries.” 

“Probably not many, but...” 

“He isn’t protective like other men are protective. He’s over the top. Protective to the extreme,” she gently scoops Addie up and places her in the infant swing across the room, covering her up with a receiving blanket and opening the sliding door to allow the cool breeze into the room. 

“I don’t think you can blame him for that,” Kyle reasons. “I mean, that’s a hell of a life he lived. And if he’s pissed that many people off and stepped on that many toes, he’s naturally going to worry about you. He just wants to keep you safe. He loves you. He doesn’t want anything happening to you.” 

“I don’t think you’re quite understanding the depth of his protectiveness,” she stands on her tip toes to snag two mugs from one of the cupboards, throwing a tea bag into each one and covering them with boiling water. “You’ve never seen Tyler in action. What he gets like. Especially when he’s having one of his ‘off days’.” 

“Okay,” he takes one of the mugs from his sister and she slips into the chair across from him. “Enlighten me.” 

“First, I’m not telling you all of this because I’m complaining about him. Because that’s not what this is. This is about loving him and being worried about him. That’s it.” 

“I get that.” 

“Second, you do not breathe a word of this to him. If he knew I was telling you about these things, the shit would hit the fan. He doesn’t even like hearing what I have to say during therapy. And that’s with a professional. So if he finds out that I even mentioned all of this to you....” 

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise. Did anyone ever find out about all those secrets we shared as kids? About the time we lit those firecrackers and threw them down Mister Johnson’s cistern? Or how about that time I caught you kissing Jennifer Parker behind the gym after field hockey practice in grade nine?” 

“Oh my God,” Esme laughs, and presses her palm to her forehead. “Jennifer Parker. She was a grade eleven! I totally forgot about her. She was hot too. That nose ring and those dreads? I wonder what ever happened to her?” 

“I saw her about a week ago, actually. She’s back in town. Married, three kids. Hooked up with a navy guy.” 

“Navy,” Esme snorts, and pours milk into her tea. “She could do so much better.” 

“Spoken like a true jarhead,” he teases, and reaches out to tousles her hair. “She asked about you, actually. I told her you were in Australia, married, almost half a dozen rug rats. Told me to tell you to look her up on Facebook. She’d like to touch base.” 

“Touch base, huh?” Esme smirks. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days? I do enough ‘touching base’ around here, don’t you think? Isn’t five kids evidence of that?” 

“You should look her up. She’d probably love to visit Australia. You know, you can give her a ‘personal tour’.” 

“Okay, first of all, I would never, ever cheat on my husband. Second, that’s NOT the kind of marriage we have. And third, even if we did have that kind of marriage, I don’t share. I think you’re not completely understanding how this whole being bi things works, K. You watch way too much porn.” 

“It’s completely innocent, I swear. You’re happy, she’s supposedly happy. You can be friends with an ex, you know.” 

“Oh don’t you dare find some sneaky way to turn this into me kissing Nik’s ass and trying to be her friend again. Don’t push me, K. If that’s going to happen, it’s going to be on my terms. Not yours.” 

“Fair enough. So back to this whole Tyler being protective thing. What’s the deal? You don’t think he has a reason to be?” 

“It’s not that. And I love that man to the ends of the earth and beyond and this isn’t me just bitching about him to bitch about him. This is a legitimate concern.” 

“Okay,” Kyle sips his tea. “Go on.” 

“First, he’s not like that all the time. He gets into these moods. He’s always been intense. You know that. You’ve seen how intense he can be. Well this is Tyler’s usual intense times a hundred. I don’t know who or what sets it off, but he honestly goes into mercenary mode. Like I’m one of the people he’s been hired to protect and get out of shitty situations. It’s like I’m not even his wife anymore. It’s like I’m....I don’t even know...a mark. Does that make sense?” 

"I think so.” 

“And he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. I know he doesn’t. Because that’s how his brain works. It convinces him there’s a threat and a reason to go into hard core protective mode. And part of me loves him for it. That he’s that intense about wanting to keep me safe. But there’s another part that can’t fucking stand it. Because I feel suffocated. Like I can’t even breathe. I’m not used to being kept under lock and key, K. I’ve never been like that. I’ve always been independent. I’ve always been able to just come and go and take care of myself.” 

He nods in agreement. 

“It’s like I’m not even a person anymore. It’s like I’m a thing. Like a package he has to keep safe and sound. Do you know how dehumanizing that is? When you don’t even feel like a human being anymore? When you can’t even go into town on your own or meet people and make friends? It’s bullshit. And I get he doesn’t realize what he’s doing or that his brain is convincing him he has to be that way. It’s not his fault. I get that. But fuck, Kyle. I need a life. Outside of being a wife and a mother.” 

“Have you ever actually brought his up to him or...?” 

Esme nods and sips her tea, struggling to keep back the tears. It’s frustration. Worry. Helplessness, almost. “It doesn’t help. Because like I said, he doesn’t even know he’s doing it and doesn’t know just how bad it is. And then I bring it up and he gets defensive and then I feel like a bad person for hurting his feelings. Which I am not trying to do. And this isn’t so much about me as it is about him. Because I’m worried about him. Because sometimes it seems like he’s come so far and other times it feels like he’s either stuck where he is or he’s going backwards. I don’t know what to do. To help him.” 

“What about this therapist you guys are seeing? The marriage counsellor or whatever.” 

“We haven’t been since a month before Addie was born. Just because all of the problems I was having trying to keep her where she was until she was healthy enough to make her appearance. But we’re going back next week. That should be interesting,” she snorts. “He’s been so relieved he hasn’t had to go. I can just imagine what the first session back is going to be like.” 

“I thought he was going on his own too. For the PTSD.” 

“He is. But I don’t know what the hell he talks about when he’s there. I don’t go with him, so....” she shrugs, then drags her hand through her hair and places her elbow on the table, forehead resting on her palm. “.... I just don’t know what to do for him. And I can’t just sit back and let him struggle. He’s trying so hard, K. To put everything else behind him. To just concentrate on a normal life. On being a husband and a father. And he’s amazing at both of those things. He really is. I just thought it wouldn’t be this hard, I guess. That he’d be able to just walk away and leave everything else behind. But there’s so much in there; in his head. And it just won’t leave him alone. It won’t let him rest.” 

“You can only do so much, kid. I know that’s not the answer you want to hear. And I wish I had something better to tell you. He just needs more time. It’s only been six months. Half a year to get over things that have been adding up for what? Two decades? He hasn’t had the easiest go of it. It’s probably hard for him to get used to having a good life. It’s not what he’s known, right? The job was his life. And then you came along, and everything changed. And that’s not a slight on you. I’m not saying you totally fucked him up even more. Because you coming along was a good thing. Probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

She snorts. “Sometimes I wonder about that.” 

“I’m just saying that it’s going to take longer than six months to fix things. To fix him. And that’s not your job, Esme. Just because you’re his wife doesn’t mean it’s entirely up to you. He’s making the effort, right? To fix shit?” 

She nods. 

“And he’s got the therapist and doctors keeping an eye on him. You’re not the only one that is dealing with this. Stop trying to take it all on yourself. It’s hard, I know. You’ve always been the type to want to take on everything on your own. Even when we were kids. But you’ve got to worry about yourself too. You’ve got your own shit going on and you’ve got five little ones that need their mom to take care of herself. They want to see you happy and healthy.” 

“I’m not their only parent,” she reminds him. “I’m not doing this on my own. And I don’t want to do this on my own.” 

“And he’s working on shit, right? He is getting better. Even if it’s slowly. Those kids deserve a mom and a dad that take care of themselves. Where would they be without either of you? Fucked. That’s where they’d be. Who’s going to take them if something happens to you guys? Tyler doesn’t have any family, I’m all the way on the other side of the world practically.” 

“But you’d do it. If you had to.” 

“Take the kids? In a heartbeat. No questions asked. But I can’t just run here whenever you’re having a hard time. I want to, but I can’t. You know that.” 

“I know...” she runs the palms of her hands along the side of her mug. “...I just...I don’t know...I wish you were closer, that’s all.” 

“Well you never know what could happen, right? After Nik and I tie the knot. Maybe this will be one of the places she wants to settle down in. We’ve been making a list. Talking about it a lot. Where we’d like to put down roots.” 

“You wouldn’t stay in Colorado?” 

“If that’s where she wants to be, sure. But once you left, there wasn’t much there for me anymore. I’m the black sheep now. In the family. And to be honest, I kind of like it. Everyone leaves me the hell alone. I don’t have to put up with anyone’s bullshit. They just keep their distance and I’m good with it. So it wouldn’t really matter if I left. I’d pretty much follow her anywhere.” 

“Okay wait a second...” Esme laughs. “....isn't that the same shit you gave me hell for? Just taking off and starting a new life?” 

“At least I’m giving everyone a warning and letting them get a chance to get used to it. You just did it. Which took some balls, by the way. That took huge balls. Just saying ‘fuck everything’ and sticking around for some guy you barely knew. And before you argue with me about that, fucking someone for five days is not really knowing them, so....” 

She gives a sly smile. “That was one hell of a five days, let me tell you.” 

“I know you ruffled a lot of feathers when you did you, but I was proud as hell. My kid sister just not giving a fuck about anyone or anything. That was a ballsy move. I was impressed. And you know who else would have been? Dad.” 

“Dad would have been pissed and you know it. That I gave everything up for a man? Remember how he used to drill it into my head growing up that I needed to be strong and independent and rely on no one but myself? Because I remember that.” 

“You were a teenager. His tone would have changed once you became an adult.” 

“Well he didn’t get that far, did he,” she sighs, and fights back tears. 

“He would have been so proud of you kid. For doing what you did. And for the life you’ve created for yourself. You can’t tell me he wouldn’t be. And those kids? He would have adored those kids and you know it.” 

“I know,” her voice cracks and she swipes at the tears that manage to escape. “That’s the hardest part, you know. That he didn’t get to see them. Because he was so good with all his other grandkids. He got a chance to meet them and spend time with everyone else's kids. It’s not fair. That he didn’t get that chance with mine.” 

“It does suck. It sucks huge. You were his first girl. That was a massive deal for him. A girl after all those boys? He would have been extra close to those kiddos. I know he would have.” 

“I didn’t think it would bother me as much as it does,” she admits. “I mean, he’s been gone for twenty years now, K. And some days it hurts just as much now as it did then. Sometimes I’ll look at the kids and they’ll do something or say something that reminds me so much of him and I think ‘I should call him or send him a picture’. And then I remember that I can’t. And that hurts. It hurts a lot.” 

“I know,” he reaches out and rubs her arm comfortingly. “Sometimes it comes up and bites me in the ass too.” 

“Can you not talk about this?” she sniffles and uses the sleeve of her sleeve of her swimsuit cover up to clear away the tears. “I really do not want to talk about this.” 

He gives a sympathetic smile, then picks up her empty mug and shakes it. “More?” 

She nods. “Thanks.” 

*****

They fall into a comfortable silence; Kyle moving easily around the kitchen as he prepares more tea and searches the cupboards and the fridge for something to eat. Settling on a large bowl of leftover fruit salad and a container of yogurt, preparing plates for both of them. 

“Holy domestic,” Esme teases, when he sets down the mug of tea and the plate of food. 

“Well it’s not like I had to actually cook anything or prepare it myself,” he points out, and drops into his chair once more. “But I’ve been picking up some new skills. If I’m going to be a husband, I need to be able to more than just use a can opener or a microwave, I figure.” 

“Especially since I know that Nik can’t cook for shit,” she laughs. 

“Right? If there was a way to burn cereal, she would do it. If I eat another plate of half cooked pasta, I may snap.” 

“But I bet you keep your mouth shut so you won’t hurt her feelings, right? Don’t worry. I get it. Tyler used to do the same thing. The first year was nothing but shitty meals. And he’d just sit there and suck it up and eat whatever I fed him. He was such a good sport. And it wasn’t bad enough to kill him, so...” she shrugs. 

“You guys have come a long way, that’s for sure.” 

She nods in agreement. 

They don’t speak for several minutes; enjoying the view of the ocean and each other’s company and the little sounds that Addie makes her in sleep. 

“You know mom’s sick, right?” Kyle pipes up. 

“Denny called me just after Addie was born and told me.” Denny. Daniel. The second oldest. A state police officer with more ego than common sense and good taste. 

“Yeah, he kind of took that over. I wanted to call you, but he insisted that he do it. And once Denny gets set on something...” 

“He’s a total dick,” Esme concludes. “He called and hung up twice because Tyler answered. Like, grow up.” 

“Tyler scares the shit out of him. And Denny doesn’t scare easily.” 

“Fuck, Denny. He called for one thing and then went off on a rant about me being so far away and only thinking about myself and how selfish and childish I am and blah blah blah. I don’t need his shit. And I won’t put up with it. Tyler finally got on the phone and lost his shit on him. It was epic. And so perfect. I don’t think Denny will be phoning again for a quite a while.” 

“He means well, but...” 

“As Millie would say ‘he’s a dick head’. But yes. He told me mom is sick. And? What do you want me to do about it?” 

“You’re her daughter.” 

“No. I’m not. I’m dead to her, remember? Those were her exact words. That if I stayed with Tyler, me and the kids were dead to her.” 

“A lot of shitty things were said that night,” Kyle reasons. 

“She’s been saying shitty things for years. Why does that one night surprise you so much?” 

“You can’t carry that around forever, Esme. The things she’s said and done. You just can’t.” 

“Really? You just watch me. She’s toxic, K. She wished death on my husband. That is not okay. That is far from okay. And I’m not going to be around someone like that. And I’m definitely not letting my kids be around something like that.” 

“It’s bad, Esme. Worse than the doctors initially thought. That cancer’s metastasized. It’s spreading quick. Alarmingly quick.” 

“Not my problem, Kyle. I can’t do anything about it. I’m not a doctor.” 

“She’s your mother.” 

“She was never a mother and you know that. Stop making her out to be Carol Brady or June Cleaver. She’s more what Captain Spaulding from House of a Thousand Corpses would be like if he became a parent.” 

“She wants to see you,” he says. 

“Good for her. I’m not interested. She spoke her truth, Kyle. About how she feels about me and my husband and my kids. There’s no taking that back.” 

“I’m not asking you to forgive her. Because what she said is unforgivable. I’m asking you to just go and see her and talk to her. Hear what she has to say.” 

“That woman won’t have anything good to say to me. Even on her death bed.” 

“Do you really want that on your conscience? Not going to see her before she dies? You really want to be holding onto that?” 

“I’m not the one who should have a guilty conscience. I hope her conscience bothers her to her last breath. But I know it won’t. Because she has no conscience. She has no heart. She’s evil, Kyle. Always has been. And maybe this is karma. Maybe all her shit has finally caught up to her.” 

He frowns. “That’s pretty harsh, don’t you think?” 

“I said what I said,” she drops her fork onto her plate and stands up when Addie begins to fuss in the swing. “You won’t change my mind, Kyle. So you can stop while you’re ahead. Quit wasting your time. I feel nothing towards her. And she deserves that.” 

He sighs heavily. “Esme...” 

“My mother died a long time ago,” she says, and carries Addie from the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Kyle is just getting ready to climb behind the wheel of his rental when he sees her approaching; a tall, curvy blond with vibrant colored highlights in her hair, holding onto Declan’s hand as he toddles along beside her, and he shuts the driver’s side door and journeys to the end of the driveway, crouching down with his arms outstretched. 

“Hey buddy!” he calls. “Come see me!” 

Declan hesitates, head cocked to the side, a frown on his face. As if he remembers the voice yet the face isn’t quite so familiar. It’s been six months after all, and he’s too young to sit still during a webcam chat; hyper and energetic and too busy exploring the world around him. But then he gives a smile that spreads from ear to ear and crinkles the corners of his eyes. And he manages to wriggle out of the woman’s grasp and rushes towards his uncle, who effortlessly scoops him up off the ground; repeatedly throwing him in the air and catching him, until the toddler is giggling hysterically. 

“I missed you, bud,” Kyle presses a kiss to the side of Declan’s head, who responds by throwing his arm around his uncle’s neck and snuggling his face into his shoulder. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he teases. “Practically old enough now to have a girlfriend and start shaving.” 

“It was time to bring back the kid. I wanted to keep him, not going to lie,” the neighbor says, as she hands over a small backpack and a pair of sandals. “You must be Esme’s husband. It’s about time we met. You’re definitely not what I was expecting.” 

“What?” he chuckles. “No. God no. I couldn’t stand being married to her. I had enough years of her driving me crazy. I’m her brother. Kyle,” he holds Declan under the bum with his forearm and offers his hand. 

“The firefighter.” 

“I see she’s been talking about me. Not sure how I feel about that.” 

“All good stuff, I promise. I’m Salena,” she warmly shakes the hand being held out to her. 

“New neighbor, right?” 

She grins. “So she’s been talking about me too.” 

“Just a little. It was nice of you. Taking Declan for a bit. She needed some downtime. Trying to handle a new baby and this little man...” he tickles Declan’s stomach. “...can be a lot to deal with. I’m glad that she has someone to help her out. That actually gives a crap about her. Tyler can only do so much, you know?” 

“Tyler’s the husband.” 

“You’re neighbors yet you don’t know his name?” 

“I’ve never even seen him. Which is why I thought that’s who you were. Although you don’t exactly give off the ‘retired guy’ vibe. You’re probably at least thirty years away from that.” 

“I wish,” he laughs. “But thanks. That’s my ego boost for today. You’re going to be in for a surprise, I think. When you do see him. He doesn’t give up the ‘retired guy’ vibe either. Daddy was lucky wasn’t he, Decks?” He holds his nephew over his head and blow raspberries on his tummy until he’s giggling once more. “He was lucky in more ways than one.” 

“Lucky to even be here by the sounds of it,” Salena comments. 

“You have no idea. It was a scary time. For him. And for my sister. You just live up the road or...?” 

“Right next door. Well not right next door because there’s the equivalent of two football fields between us. But next door.” 

“I would have scooped that place up in a heartbeat when my sister told me it was for sale. I’d love to be closer to the munchkins. Especially this guy,” he gives Declan a noisy kiss on the cheek. “He’s kind of my favorite. But don’t tell the other ones. Uncle Kyle is kind of a big deal around here and I want it to stay that way.” 

Salena laughs. “Your secret is safe with me. But I kind of see why this little guy is your fave. He's quite the character!” 

“Always has been. Since the day he was born. Huge personality, this kid. Always charming someone. Especially the ladies. Must take after your Uncle Kyle, huh?” he bounces Declan on his hip. “All you have to do is give them a certain look and they’re eating out of the palm of your hand.” 

“I think that hair and those huge blue eyes don’t hurt either.” 

“They all have them. Those eyes. Trust me when I say they are all dad. Except for the littlest. She is all mom.” 

“Do you still live in Colorado or...” 

Kyle nods. “Telluride. At my sister’s old place. Just until I decide if I want to stick around or not. Then they’ll just up for sale if I leave. It’s a shame if they do. It’s a hell of a place. Not as nice as this, but it’s got tons of property and amazing view of the mountains. It was a great place to raise kids. Until it wasn’t.” 

“Things went bad?” 

“You could say that. Changes needed to be made. They’re happier now. Much happier. Sucks that they’re so far away; kills me not being able to see the kidlets. But it was what was best for them. For all of them. Sometimes you just have to cut your losses and walk away, know what I mean?” 

Salena nods. 

“I should get this guy into his mom. I have some things I have to take care of before we all meet back up tonight for dinner. It’ll be fun surprising the other kids. It’s only been six months, but it’s felt like six years.” 

“I won’t keep you any longer. It was nice meeting you, Kyle. Maybe we’ll see each other again. You sticking around for long?” 

“Week or two. Who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with the place and never leave. Anything could happen, right?” 

“Absolutely it could,” she agrees, and others her hand this time. “It was nice talking to you.” 

“Pleasure was all mine. Maybe we’ll get to chat again. I’m sure I’ll be around a lot. And any friend of my sister’s is a friend of mine. You ready to go, buddy?” He pushes his fingers through Declan’s hair, clearing long, thick tresses off his forehead. “Want to go see mommy?” 

“See mommy,” Declan chirps, and then blows Salena a kiss, giving her one of his charming little grins as his uncle carries him up the driveway. 

**** 

The music is deafening; bass intense and pounding, windows shaking. The detached garage had originally been built by the previous owners and used as a place to store a boat and jet skis; the door at the back leading out onto a cement launch that descended into the ocean. It was a luxury they didn’t need, and Tyler had turned the garage into a fully functional gym, stocked with every possibly piece of cardio and weightlifting equipment that could possibly fit within the four walls. It’s his refuge; the one place he can go to when anxious or agitated, where he can safely –and productively- get out all his frustrations and aggression. There were days he’d only been in there for thirty minutes, other where he’d disappear for hours at a time. She never questioned it or denied him that time alone. He was still safe at home, working through things at his own pace and intensity. Far better than the alternative: having him thousands of miles away, putting himself in danger, using his hands to inflict pain on people. Even killing them. 

The end results are better as well. Something that she can selfishly enjoy. The pure aesthetics of him; the broad shoulders and back, muscle seemingly packed open muscle, every inch, every ripple, every sinewy tendon and every bulging vein. Not one inch that isn’t pure and utter perfection. That her fingers and hands haven’t spent countless hours exploring and enjoying. No man has ever had that powerful of an effect on her, especially that long into a relationship. Where her insides burn and ache just from the simple act of watching him. Not just his body in motion, but the intensity and focus that he puts into it. 

She stands in the doorway and watches him now; the power and the rage behind every kick and punch that he unleashes on the heavy bag. Shirtless and clad in only a pair of athletic shorts, a sheen of sweat covering every inch of his upper body and soaking his hair. Those blue eyes dark and troubled. Angry. 

When the music becomes too much for her ears to bear, she moves to the Bluetooth speaker in the corner and turns down the volume. He’s stopped for a breather; skin flushed, chest heaving, bent over at the waist with his hands resting on his thighs. The sunlight streaming through the skylight causing the sweat to glisten, highlighting every scar and tattoos that mars his flesh. 

“Do I know the person you were fantasizing about beating the shit out of?” Esme asks, as she takes a seat on one of the nearby weight benches, holding out one of the two bottles of water she’s brought along with her. 

“You know a couple of them,” Tyler admits, using his forearm to clear sweat from his forehead as he approaches, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips; droplets of sweat falling from his hair and down onto her chest and thighs. “You were sleeping when I got home. I didn’t want to wake you up. Come out here instead.” 

“Well judging by how hard core you were going and all that rage coming out of you, I’d say that was a very good call on your part.” 

“Declan and the baby still sleeping?” 

She nods. “How long have you been out here kicking the hell of out things?” 

“I dunno,” he twists off the cap on the water and downs nearly half the bottle. “Hour maybe. What time is it?” 

“Just a little after two.” 

“Hour and a bit, then. Times flies when you’re pretending to kill someone, I suppose.” 

“Pretending is better than actually doing it,” she reasons, and he nods, then uses his teeth to create a tear in the tape that’s wrapped around both hands. It’s frayed and stained by both grim and blood; the thin layer of protection not enough to keep the already swollen and misshapen knuckles from being torn up. 

“Lunch with Ovi went that bad?” she inquires, and motions for him to give her one of his hands; taking one in both of hers, nails gently picking at the tape to begin the task of peeling it off. It’s a simple gesture; that little bit of help. But it’s filled with love. 

“It went so bad that lunch never even happened.” 

“I can’t say I’m surprised. You were pretty agitated before you even left the house. What happened? Did you just completely snap or...?” 

“He started in on his bullshit. About the job. It didn’t matter what I said. How bad I made it sound. He doesn’t give a fuck about the reality of it. I don’t what’s happened to him. You’d think about everything he went through in Dhaka...killing Gaspar...seeing what went down on the bridge...that’d be enough to convince him not to do it.” 

“Something has warped his mind. Or someone.” She finishes with the first hand; balling up the soiled and tattered tape and setting it beside her on the bench. Then turns her attention to the other. 

“I know I promised I’d do whatever I had to to stop him, but nothing I say or do is going to change his mind. He doesn’t give a shit what I have to say. So short of chaining him up in the basement and keeping him prisoner, I think we’re looking at option B.” 

Esme sighs. “I was hoping to avoid option B.” 

“We were BOTH hoping to avoid option B. But if we try and look at it optimistically...” 

“Isn’t that my thing?” she grins. “Aren’t I usually the optimistic one while you border on the worst-case scenario side of things?” 

“What did you say the other night? About teaching an old dog new tricks? Guess you’re starting to rub off on me after six years.” 

“So what is the optimistic way of looking at it? Is there even such a thing when it comes to the job?” 

“Maybe he won’t get himself into trouble,” Tyler says. “Maybe he’ll be smart enough to just take easy shit. Simple in and out extractions.” 

“We both know there’s nothing simple about any extraction. Whether it’s supposed to be in and out or not. Can you honestly think of one extraction that went down without a hitch? You’d done how many by the time you quit? At least a hundred. Probably more. When was the last one that you remember things didn't go south?” 

Tyler frowns. “You’re killing my optimistic vibe here.” 

She gives an apologetic smile. 

“There’s a chance that whatever he decides to take will be nice and easy. At least until he gets his feet under him. I figure it can go one of two ways. He’ll either hate it, or he’ll push himself until he can handle more intense jobs.” 

“Okay, honey, I don’t think you quite grasp looking at the brighter side of things. Because you started out really well, but you sort of shit the bed at the end there. How is that last part in any way optimistic? We want him stopping, not continuing.” 

“So maybe I don’t have the optimism thing perfected just yet. But if the worst-case scenario is that he likes doing it and busts his ass to get better at it, that’s not so bad, yeah?” 

“Would that not be the somewhat okay scenario? Seeing as the worst-case scenario would be something like...I don’t know.... death?” 

“Not every mercenary dies,” Tyler informs her. 

“But the percentage is higher of those that do and those who live long, happy lives. You’re one of the lucky ones.” 

“Kind of bold of you to assume that I’m both happy and I’m going to live a long life,” he teases. 

“You won’t live long making smart ass comment like that,” she retorts. 

Grinning, he leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, then to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Thank you,” he says, when she finishes unwrapping his hand and adds the tape to the original ball. 

“So...” her hands fall on his shoulders as he sits on the ground in front of her, leaning back against her legs. “....is that as bad as things got today, or...” 

“No. It got worse,” he grimaces as he stretches his legs out in front of him; knee cracking and popping with even that simple of a movement. “It got a lot worse.” 

“I have a feeling I know why. But I’m going to let you tell me.” Her fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling the tension that has settled deep into the muscles. “Because I think I know what you’re going to say.” 

“I’ll give you three guesses what happened.” 

“Nope. We are not playing that game. You’re just going to spit it out. Because once it’s out in the open, we can deal with it. Together. Rationally.” 

“Any form of the word rational and you don’t exactly go hand in hand. Fuck...” he growls, when she clamps down on the right trap. “...okay...okay...I’ll tell you. I’ll talk. Are you sure it wasn’t torture you specialized in instead of intel?” 

“I have ways of making you suffer, Tyler. That aren’t physical. You think almost four months is bad? Try six. Or eight. Or twelve.” 

He scowls. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, I would. So, talk. Or you’ll spent the next six months to a year doing a lot a jerking off or taking cold showers.” 

“You have to promise me that you won’t completely lose your shit on me. Because I’m actually the innocent one in all of this fucked up mess.” 

“Okay,” Esme agrees. “I promise.” 

“Nik showed up. Just out of the blue. Ovi set me up. He knew I wouldn’t totally snap in public. He’s the one who told her to meet us there. That sneaky little fuck. I don’t know whether to be pissed off or impressed.” 

“Well I know which one I am, and it’s not impressed.” 

“You don’t seem that surprised,” he remarks. “That she did show up.” 

“Nik is like herpes,” Esme muses. “Can’t get rid of her no matter how hard you try.” 

Tyler laughs. “That’s one way of putting it, I guess.” 

“And I already knew she was in town. Because I had my own surprise visitor today. My brother showed up. Completely unannounced. Just wandered in like it was no big deal that he just didn’t come all the way from Colorado. It was too much wishful thinking on my part to hope he’d come alone, apparently.” 

Tyler sips his water. “What did he want? 

“Just a social visit. Nothing majorly important was brought up. What did Nik want?” 

“I didn’t agree to tell you THAT part.” 

“Tyler, don’t press your luck. I love you, but just don’t.” 

“She’s been recruiting him. Ovi. Apparently when he started thinking about all this job shit, he contacted her. Which makes sense in a way, because she’d have all the answers to his questions. She’s a fountain of information. I only know the hands-on stuff. She knows that and what goes on behind the scenes. So he reached out to her and I guess she made it sound even more appealing instead of discouraging.” 

“Color me surprised,” Esme scoffs. “That she’d suck him right in. Fuck that bitch.” 

“You told me you’d stay calm,” he reminds her. 

“I am calm. Have I strangled you yet? No. So I’m calm.” 

“Just a reminder that I’m innocent in all of this. In case you needed to hear that again.” 

“I’m not mad at you,” she assures him. “Not in the slightest. So,” she runs her hands along his shoulders and presses a kiss to his ear. “.... go on.” 

“She’s offered him a position,” Tyler continues, as he picks at the label on the now empty water bottle. “With her team. But there’s a catch.” 

Esme smirks. “There always is with Nik. Nothing is ever cut and dry with her. What’s the catch?” 

“She wants him trained. Extensively. Weapons, hand to hand combat, that sort of shit. And she won’t give him a job unless he can prove to her that he can handle things.” 

“That actually seems fairly reasonable for Nik. What does it have to do with you?” 

“Before I tell you that part, I just want to say that I love you and I wasn’t going to make any decision without you. If you don’t want me doing it, I don’t do it. Simple as that. Okay?” 

“Fair enough.” 

“Nik wants me to be the one that trains him.” 

She issues a heavy sigh. 

“But...” Tyler turns around to face her, forearms resting on her thighs. “...I don’t have to go anywhere to do it. It’s not like I have to actually go on a job and have him shadow me or some shit like that. Nik is a lot of things, but she’s not THAT reckless. Everything can be done here. All hands on. We’ve got a gym, a beach we can use to practice some shit on, there’s gun ranges in the town over, we have the woods out back.” 

“You have a hunting rifle and a handgun,” she reminds him. “That’s hardly enough to train him with.” 

“It would only take one phone call and I’d have everything I need. I’m not worried about that.” 

“Do you want to do it? Train him?” 

“Do you want me to do it?” he counters. “Because if we don’t agree on this, I don’t do it. That’s it. If you think it’s a bad idea and you’d rather I not do it, then just say it. I won’t argue. So...” he runs his palms along her thighs. “...what are you thinking?” 

“I’m thinking this is fucked up,” Esme admits. “Because I thought this was all behind us. That every part of the job was in the past. That we finally got away from it. Like...fuck, Tyler. When is this going to end? Will it ever end? Will it ever leave you alone? I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. I do not want you getting dragged back into this. Into the actual job. Because she's going to try. She's going to try and manipulate you all over again.” 

“It won’t work. I’m done. I’m not going back. Unless there’s no other choice. We agreed on that. That I’d only go if Ovi got himself into trouble. That is the one and only time I’d go back. You don’t have to worry about that.” 

“What’s the alternative? If you don’t train him?” 

“He gets someone that does a half assed job and Nik thinks it’s acceptable and sends him off somewhere. To die.” 

“Well you can’t let that happened. That’s the last thing we want. And if he’s so hell bent on doing this and there’s no way you change his mind...” 

“He’s not going to listen to me, babe. He’s going to do this whether I agree with it or not.” 

“So then logically it should be you. That trains him,” she concludes. “He trusts you. I trust you. I know that you’d do it right. You were the best, Tyler. Everyone knew it. You weren’t just water cooler gossip. Or some urban legend. You were exactly who everyone said you were. Which means you’re Ovi’s only hope.” 

“I don’t know about his only hope, but I’m his best hope. Tell me what you want,” he takes her hands in his, kissing the tops of both before tightly squeezing. His eyes never leaving hers. “If you want me to do it, I need to hear you say it. It’s important to me that you say it.” 

“And it’s a sure thing that you won’t have to go anywhere? That you can do all of this right here?” 

“There’s no reason for me to go anywhere. Not unless I have to. Not unless he completely fucks up and I have to rescue his sorry ass. If you don’t want me involved at all...” 

“It’s not that. I want you to help him. I just worry about what else Nik will try to get you into.” 

“Fuck Nik. This is about Ovi. And us. She has nothing to do with this. If you say yes, I commit. If you say no, we just go on with our lives like we never had this conversation. There’s no in between. Just yes or no.” 

She sighs, then leans forward and rests her forehead against his. Her eyes closed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You need to do this,” she admits, even though it hurts like hell to do so. “I want you to do it.” 

“It’s going to be okay,” he places a kiss to her brow, lips lingering there for several seconds. “It goes no further than this. I do what I have to do to get him ready. Then just hope he doesn’t need anything else.” 

“I swear to God, I will kill him with my bare fucking hands if this gets any worse. If he totally fucks up and you have to go in and get him, I will slaughter him the second he gets back.” 

“That kind of defeats the purpose of getting him out of there alive if he’s just going to end up dead in the first place.” 

“It’s you I worry about,” she stresses. “It’s you that I don’t want ending up dead. Because we’re supposed to grow old and grey and miserable together.” 

“Baby, there is no one else I want to grow old and grey and miserable with. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. Trust me. I’m asking you to trust me. Can you do that?” 

She nods, then releases his hands and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. The smell of sweat and the slick dampness of his body oddly comforting. 

“I love you,” he says, as his hands softly rub up and down her back. “I love you and everything is going to be okay.” 

“I love you too,” her voice is muffled against him. “Just do whatever it takes to help him survive. To keep him out of trouble. And keep yourself alive.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m too stubborn to die, remember? Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easy. It’s either spend the next fifty years with me or kill me yourself.” 

“Never,” she declares, and pulls back to look at him. “I like having you around.” 

“Yeah? Well I like hanging out here, so...” 

She smiles, then leans in to kiss him. Long and soft and sweet. “You reek by the way,” she teases, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she shoves him onto his back. “You need to clean yourself up. We’ve got plans for tonight.” 

“What kind of plans? It can’t be the sexy kind of plans because we’re still on the no-fly list, so....” 

“The kind of plans that involve you having to wear actual pants. And underwear.” 

“Both? What the fuck? We’re going all fancy and shit. Do I have to shave too?” 

“Maybe tidy it up a bit. So you don’t look homeless.” 

“I thought you liked it this length. Because it rubs places in all the right ways.” he gives her a wink, and then chuckles when she grabs a towel, smacks him in the side of the head with it and then drops it over his face. “Hey, those were your exact words.” 

“We are going out. In public. And I said trim the beard. Not shave it. Because you’d probably traumatize your children if you did that. That’s how they know you. With a beard.” 

“It’d probably traumatize you too. If cutting the hair didn’t do it, shaving the beard will. So I’ll be nice. I’ll spare you any extra emotional suffering. And where are we going?” he sits up and uses the towel to vigorously rub at his hair. “Am I at least allowed to know that?” 

“Out. With my brother. And Nik.” 

Tyler groans. 

“We need to make nice. Or so my brother says. I told him I’d be civil, at least.” 

“I think I’m getting a sore throat. And a fever. I feel hot. Do I feel hot to you? Check my temperature.” 

“You’ll be fine,” she says, as she heads for the door. “Remember. Shower. Underwear. Normal pants.” 

“Not even shorts? Like cargo shorts?” 

“Pants!” she insists, then tosses him the unopened bottle of water. “I’ll go as far as allowing jeans or cargo pants. But they have to be pants.” 

“You’re bossy,” he complains, then flops onto his back and lies spread-eagled in the middle of the floor, towel over his face. “Wake me up a half an hour before we leave.” 

“The school bus comes in sixty minutes. I’m going to get you up in fifty-nine.” 

“You know,” he muses. Underwear? Normal pants? You’re damn lucky I love you as much as I do.” 

“Yes,” she grins before stepping out the door. “I am.”


	12. Chapter 12

Preparing to leave the house with five kids in tow is a full-time job all in itself. Bathing them after a long and active day at school, getting them dressed –which includes incessant bitching and moaning about the textures of clothes and how the tags are ‘too itchy’, having to actually put on socks and shoes-, and giving them the usual list of warnings before even stepping out the front door. No arguing, no fighting, and no bad language. And by the time you manage to get to the front door, at least two have to go to the bathroom and another wants to change what they’re wearing. This time it’s Millie; her self-described princess dress suddenly not ‘princessy enough’. Opting for one with more frills and more sparkles and way too much pink, then insisting on topping the look off with her well-worn light up Spiderman sandals. Tyler had long ago learned to pick his battles, especially as a girl dad. Was suggesting nicer shoes really worth the epic diva style meltdown he’d have to endure Especially when he’d rather be in flip flops or even bare foot himself? 

“I honestly do not care,” he says, when she holds aloft the sandals with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Other parents would force their kids to comply; embarrassed by the mismatched lock. But he’s gotten so used to carting around boys dressed in superhero costumes –masks and all- that the stares and whispers of strangers don’t both him anymore. And fighting over shoes with a soon to be six-year-old is not the hill he wants to die on. “Do what you want.” 

For a brief moment –as he buckles the three oldest into the their car seats in the very back of their second, and much larger, vehicle, he muses about just how different his was now is compared to the one that he used to live. When he was drunk off of his practically twenty-four seven, numbing the pain, guilt, and grief with a potent combination of booze and pain meds. Back in that little shack of his in the Outback, with nothing but a dog and a chicken to keep him company. When he was totally committed to the job and spending his days fighting to keep himself –and quite often someone else- alive in dangerous situations. When he was battered and bloody and sometimes on the brink of death. Now he’s proficient in changing diapers, fixing bottles, and making and packing school lunches. A far cry from the old days. And for a brief moment, the thought makes him feels sad; that his existence is nothing more than a mere shadow of what it used to be. That he’s gone from one extreme to the other. And it shouldn’t; he’d made the conscious decision to give it all up. For his family. So he’d be able to hold his marriage together. 

And the sadness is replaced with guilt; that he’d miss the job while getting the opportunity to even have kids and watch them grow. A lot of guys in the job weren’t so lucky; they either never turned alive to their wives and kids, or their marriages completely disintegrated, and they never saw their children again. That’s his worst nightmare; things falling apart and either rarely getting to spend time with them, or not being able to see them at all. Being a dad has given him something to take pride in; raising tiny humans that will hopefully one day grow up to be amazing big humans. Decent adults with compassion and humility. Fiercely independent. Alarmingly intelligent. And it’s given him a chance to finally do it right. He’d been an epic failure as a father with Austin; he’d been cowardly and selfish and would never truly forgive himself for it. But he’d been given another chance; entrusted with helping bring five beautiful lives into the world. And he’s determined not to fuck that up. 

“I don’t wanna wear shoes!” TJ laments, and proceeds to use his toes to push his sneakers off one heel, then the other, letting the offending items fall to the floor of the SUV. 

“Listen, mate. We’re not going to fight about this. If your mum says you wear shoes, you wear the shoes.” 

“This is crap!” Tanner chimes in. “My feet areso hot! Like they’re gonna catch on fire!” 

“No one’s feet are going to catch on fire,” Tyler assures him. “You’re wearing the thinnest socks possible. We get there, the shoes go back on. And how come you guys don’t have to wear normal pants?” They’re clad in matching tan cargo short; one in a green and white stripped golf shirt, the other in blue and white. Always insisting on matching in some way, despite the fact their parents have purposely dressing them differently from day one. 

“’Cause we’re only five!” Tanner huffs, as if he’s just been subjected to the dumbest question that’s ever been asked in the history of mankind. 

“By the way,” Tyler says, as he finishes buckling Tanner into his seat. “I want my fifteen bucks back that you scammed me out of the other night.” 

“I got that money fair and square,” his son argues. “I got you the info just like you asked.” 

“Your mom gave me the info. Which technically means half of the money should go to her.” 

“It’s not my fault that you feel for it, daddy. You should be smarter than that. You got totally played by a five-year-old.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Esme says as she appears alongside of him, clutching Declan by the hand, the baby resting along her forearm. “You did fall for it.” 

“You’re in on this together, aren’t you? You probably put him up to it. You’ve been teaching him some of the tricks of the trade. Getting him ready to follow in your footsteps. I bet he even split the money with you.” 

“Please just put the kids in the car before we’re really late,” she implores, then stands on her tip toes to brush her lips against his. Which in turns prompts loud and dramatic gagging from all three of the older kids. 

“Don’t do that!” TJ cries. “We don’t need any more babies in the house! Why can’t we have a puppy for a change? I don’t want any more sisters!” 

“Well I don’t want any more brothers either,” Millie retorts, and sticks her tongue at him. 

“Okay, don’t start.” Esme warns. “At least wait until we’re out of the driveway. And besides, it takes a lot more than that get a baby brother or sister.” 

“Like what?” Millie inquires.” 

“Like none of your business,” Tyler replies as he tends to Declan, scooping him of the ground and settling him into his car seat. “Besides, there won’t be any more brothers or sisters. It’s not possible.” 

“Can we get a dog then?” Tanner asks 

“We already have a dog,” his mother reminds him. 

“Let’s get another one!” Millie enthuses. “A puppy!” 

“I have enough mouths to feed and barely any sanity left.” Esme says, and passes the baby to her husband, who arches a brow and stares at her pointedly over the dog comment. “Not you too!” 

“It’s not a bad idea. We’ve got the room. Inside and outside.” 

“Please don’t encourage them. They won’t stop talking about it now. They’re going to ask a million times a day about getting a puppy and I don’t think my mental well-being can take it.” 

“We’ll talk about it,” he says, then kisses her and shit the SUV door. 

“Oh, you think so do you,” she grins, then runs her hands across his shoulders and down his chest; smoothing out the wrinkles in his simple white dress shirt., the first three buttons undone and no tie; paired with dark washed jeans that fit ‘just right’. Beard still full but neatly trimmed, the product in his hair giving it that unruly ‘bed head’ look. “You clean up nice.” 

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” he chides, and then places a hand on her hip and leans into her, pressing a kiss to her ear. “You look beautiful,” he praises, as his hand slides up the middle of her back. The dress is simple and modest; emerald green and off the shoulder, flaring out at the waist and just skimming the bottom of her knees. 

She’s still self-conscious about her post-baby body; she’d on twenty-five pounds and had damaged to drop fifteen of them seemingly overnight after Addie was born. She hates the extra weight that clings to her hips and gathers at her waist; despises the stretch marks that mar her skin. Yet to him they just make her even more beautiful; the signs left behind that she’s given him children. There’s no woman in the world that could ever hold a candle to her. It stretches far beyond physical appearance. It’s her strength and her tenacity and the loyalty that that she’s always shown towards him and their kids. And it’s the way she looks at him; as if he’s the most incredible man on the planet even though there’s times he’s shown he’s anything but. 

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. Even after six and a half years of marriage she’s still not used to his random compliments. Mark had all but destroyed every ounce of self-esteem she’d ever had, so Tyler had taken it upon himself to help rebuilt it every chance he got. Whether it’s when she’d dressed up with her done and make up on, or when she’s worn down from lack sleep and her hair is messy and she’s still in her pajamas with baby puke stains on them. 

“I’m serious,” he says, as his hand slides down to the small of her back and his lips find hers; soft, slow, simple kiss. “You look incredible.” 

She smiles. A genuine, glowing smile that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle and dance. And with her hands on his chest, she stands on her tip toes once again and places a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then lays her hand against the side of his face and runs the end of pad of her thumb over his lips, her eyes never leaving his. 

It’s the sincerest ‘thank you’ he’s ever received. 

**** 

Nik and Kyle have a room at Sovreign Resort Hotel, and they’ve arranged to meet on the outdoor patio belonging to the in-house restaurant. It’s better for the kids; no cooping them up in a crowded, busy room and expecting them to sit still and keep quiet. Being outside gives them a chance to breathe; away from the hustle and bustle and all the judgmental stares and comments if they dare step out of line. There are gardens and fishponds to investigate when they get bored or agitated and need some time to decompress, and room for a high chair for Declan and Addie’s stroller, giving her a comfortable and safe place to retreat to while the others eat and converse. 

“Now I know why we don’t go out more often,” Esme comments, as she notices the curious looks and hears the comments tossed their way. A fairly young couple with so many kids, all close together in age. Most find it cute; drawn to the twins in their complimenting outfits and Millie in her princess dress, but there’s the bitchy people as well. The ‘children should be seen and not heard’ crowd that find it ridiculous –and maybe even disgusting- that people are willingly having such large families in this day and age. “People are staring at us,” she frets. “And whispering.” 

Tyler moves Declan from one hip to the other, than lays a hand on the back of her neck and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Want me to tell them that I have weak pull out game? Lighten the mood?” 

“I’d laugh but I wouldn’t but it past you do actually do something like that. Seriously, what is everyone’s issue?” 

“Who gives a shit. Just ignore it. Maybe it bothers them because it’s obvious by all the kids that we’ve had more sex in five years than they’ve had in fifty.” 

Normally it would aggravate him, that kind of attention and all the talk. But he’d taken half a dozen Ativan before getting out of the car and the effects are already starting to take hold. He’s relaxed. The calmest he’s been in the past four days. Although he’s pretty sure having to be in Nik’s presence and enduring her version of ‘small talk’ will change that. 

Nik and Kyle have already arrived; sitting side by side at a large table near the edge of the patio, leaning into one another, foreheads nearly touching as they talk, their hands joined on top of the table. 

“I’m going to be sick,” Esme mutters. “Ughhhh. The way she’s looking at him. He’s way too good for her. Let’s just leave. I don’t think they’ve seen us yet. If we just sneak out now...” 

Kyle has spotted them and is already on his feet and making his way towards them; the kids so focused on their surroundings that they’re completely unsuspecting until he’s within five feet, noisily clearing his throat to grab their attention. 

“Uncle Kyle!” Millie cries, and is the first to break away, the soles of those old sandals flapping against the concreate patio as she rushes to where he’s already crouched down, arms outstretched, gathering her into them and pulling her tight against him. 

The twins follow suit; shrieking his name as they run towards him, finding themselves enveloped by his strong arms and gathered into a bear hug along with their sister. Tears sparkling in Kyle’s eyes as he showers them with kisses and tousles their hair and listens to their excited ramblings; all three talking at the same time, filling him in on all the excitement and adventures they’ve experienced in the past six months. And Tyler notices that Nik doesn’t budge from the table, sipping at a glass of wine and never acknowledging the scene playing out in front of her. 

“Wish me luck,” Esme sighs, and he gives a reassuring before taken Declan from him, carrying him on her hip and pushing the baby in the stroller as she herds the other three towards the table to get them settled. 

He watches as the two women exchange tight lipped smiles; Esme’s one of lingering bitterness and anger, Nik’s filled with a hint of remorse and maybe even regret. And how his wife holds it together despite wanting to completely unleash on her old friend; instead patiently getting the kids settled and Declan strapped into a highchair. He knows it’s difficult for her; his ‘history’ with Nik still the elephant that lingers in the room, the other issues that she’s caused over the past six and a half years adding insult to injury. 

“Good to see you, man,” Kyle gives him an awkward one-armed hug and then claps him on the shoulder. “What the has she been feeding you? You’re a fucking tank.” 

“Just a lot of hours in the gym. Gotta keep myself busy somehow. Things are good with you?” 

Their relationship has been strained; not just because of the thousands of miles between them and Kyle holding him responsible for yet again ‘stealing’ his sister, but the ongoing hostility with Nik. The last time they’d talked, Tyler hadn’t been kind; letting her know to stay the hell away from him, to never contact him again. He’d been harsh. He’s the first one to admit that. But it had worked. At least until now. 

“Things are good,” Kyle says, and then glances over his shoulder at Nik, a smile curving his lips. “Things are really good. What about here? You guys are doing alright? The kids seem happier.” 

“We’re all happier. It was the right thing to do. Coming back here.” 

“She’s struggling though,” Kyle nods in the direction of his sister. “Don’t even try and tell me she’s not.” 

“She’d be struggling a lot less if you have just listened and kept Nik away. It wasn’t enough you’re marrying her considering everything in the past? You had to make things worse by bringing her here?” 

“We hadn’t heard from you guys yet. About the wedding.” 

“And that means you come all the way here and fuck things up? You have a phone. You've got the internet. Send an email. Don’t just show up. We’re still trying to get past all of this. Nik and her shit, the job.” 

"It was her idea. Nik’s. To come here and try and make things. Patch things up. I told her that I didn’t know if either you or Esme were ready for that that yet, but....” 

He frowns. “It was her idea?” 

Kyle nods. “She wanted to make amends. In person.” 

“She told you that? That that’s why we wanted to come here?” 

You poor delusional bastard, Tyler thinks. Kyle’s being played and manipulated in the say way she’d messed with him. Nik always has an ulterior motive. And Kyle is either blind to it, doesn’t give a shit, or genuinely doesn’t realize what she’s capable of. 

He decides it’s the latter. 

“We want you guys at the wedding,” Kyle says. “I mean, if it wasn’t for you and Esme, we never would have met.” 

He feels as if he should apologize in advance. Because six months from now, Kyle’s going to realize just what kind of shit show he’s gotten himself into. “ 

“And we want the kids there,” Kyle continues. “Millie could be the flower girl, the twins could be junior ushers, Declan could carry the ring up. We want it to be a family affair. 

The last thing Tyler wants it to be stuck anywhere with Esme’s family. He doesn’t give a shit about their feelings towards him. If they want to spend the rest of their lives hating him and viewing him as the enemy, so be it. But the way they’ve treated her.... his wife...is unacceptable. And the worst place to air those grievances is at the wedding of the only member of that clan he can actually stand. 

“Won’t be the same without all of you,” Kyle says. “I mean, we’re family.” 

Tyler wouldn’t go that far. You usually don’t become family with someone you used to casually fuck, 

“This is a big deal for her,” his brother in law continues. “Wanting to come here. Wanting to make things right.” 

“And you really think that’s why she wanted to come here?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? She hasn’t given me a reason not to believe her. Why?” his eyes narrow. “You know something I don’t know.” 

“I don’t think you know Nik as well as you think you do,” Tyler says, then gives him a sympathetic pat on shoulder before heading for the table. 

**** 

“You’re here to take daddy away, aren’t you.” Millie voice is accusatory and full of venom; eyes narrowed as she regards Nik from across the table. 

Dinner is long finished; all dirty dishes and cutlery cleared away in favor of tea and coffee for the adults and ice cream for the kids. His daughter has been glued to his side all night, Nik bringing out the clingy and protective side of her. Nearly causing a fight with Tanner when he initially wouldn’t give up the seat to Tyler’s right. Then climbing up into his lap as soon as the meal was finished; sitting sideways on his thighs, an arm curled tightly around his neck. 

Esme shifts uncomfortably beside him, then noisily clears her throat and reaches for a glass of ice water. He takes her hand, squeezing it tightly before placing their joined hands on her thigh. 

“No one is taking anyone away,” he assures his daughter. 

“That's what you said last time,” Millie reminds him. “And then you were gone forever.” 

“Well this time is different. I’m not going anywhere. Uncle Kyle just came to see you guys. So she tagged along. Nothing more than that.” 

“She _is _your Aunt,” Kyle speaks up. “It’s okay if you guys call her that even if certain people don’t want to acknowledge it or accept it.”__

__

__Esme clears her throat once more, hand tightening around Tyler’s._ _

__

__Millie isn’t convinced. “If I wake up tomorrow and my daddy's gone, I’m going to be really pissed!”_ _

__

__“Okay, calm down,” Tyler presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still going to be here when you wake up tomorrow. So just relax, okay? Take it easy.”_ _

__

__Millie turns to face him, then kneels on his laps as she leans in close and whispers. “I don’t trust her, daddy.”_ _

__

__“It’s a long way to come,” Esme pipes up. “Just because you missed the kids. Web cam chats do exist, you know.”_ _

__

__“It’s not the same,” Kyle says. “And things are slow right now for Nik and I had some vacation time owe to me, so...well...here we are.”_ _

__

__“Yeah,” Esme gives a tense smile. “Here you guys are.”_ _

__

__Tyler moves Mille over to his other thigh, then let’s go his wife’s hand in favor of laying his arm across the back of her chair, thumb repeatedly brushing against her shoulder._ _

__

__“We thought it was time to smooth things out,” Kyle explains. “Before the wedding. So things aren’t tense that day like they are now. I mean, it’s been six months. Time to let it go, don’t you think.”_ _

__

__“I think you’re underestimating what the nearly six years before were like,” his sister calmly responds. “Or am I just supposed to pretend they never happened? That she...sorry.... you...” she looks over at Nik. “...never pulled all the bullshit you did?”_ _

__

__“Mommy.” Tanner looks up from his ice cream. “That’s a bad word. Daddy said no bad words tonight.”_ _

__

__“You’re right,” she says, and then gives her son a smile and wraps an arm around him, drawing him tight against her. “Bad mommy,” she scolds herself, and then runs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss to his cheek._ _

__

__“No one is saying that you have to forget about all of that or pretend it never happened.” Kyle informs her. “But wouldn’t you rather iron things out so you’re carrying around so much animosity?”_ _

__

__“Oh, that’s rich, K. Maybe you should be addressing your future wife’s animosity. And how she was so pissed at Tyler and I that she was willing to leave us both on a bridge in Dhaka to die.”_ _

__

__“Okay...no one needs to hear about this,” Tyler says, and rubs her shoulder. “Especially little ears.”_ _

__

__“I’ve already apologized for that,” Nik finally speaks. “Countless times. But things didn’t exactly happen the way you think they did.”_ _

__

__Esme snorts. “Spare me, Nik. Yaz told me all I needed to know. So don’t waste your breath lying to me. Dhaka was a total crap show and you just making screwing up and making it worse.”_ _

__

__“Alright, settle down,” Tyler implores, and then leans sideways to press a kiss to her temple, lips settling against her ear. “The kids do not need to hear this. Any of this. Okay? Can you stop? For me? Please?”_ _

__

__She reluctantly nods._ _

__

__“It was Nik’s idea to come here,” Kyle says. “She wanted to patch things up. With both of you. So we could be part of the kids’ lives. They deserve to have family. Are you going to let your ego get in the way of what’s best for them?”_ _

__

__“Whoa...whoa...” Tyler comes to his wife’s defense. “...that’s way out of line, mate. Don't use her kids against her. Don’t ever accuse of not doing what’s for her kids. Our kids. Don’t stoop that low or you are I are going to have problems.”_ _

__

__“I’m just saying that...”_ _

__

__“I know what you’re saying. But find another way to say. Because I won’t let you disrespect the mother of my children like that.”_ _

__

__Nik gives a dramatic sigh. “Obviously the two of you are still holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger and this was a total waste of our time.”_ _

__

__“We’re holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger?” Esme retorts, then laughs. “Says the woman who couldn’t handle that her with friend with benefits met someone and decided to move on with his life. The same woman who was so mad about it that she spent six years trying to get my husband to cheat on me? Or are you going to pretend none of that ever happened?”_ _

__

__“And I’ve apologized for that, Esme. But you’re just so childish and petty that you can't let it go.”_ _

__

__‘Well I’m sorry, Nik. Maybe I’m not comfortable with my husband’s old side piece becoming my sister in law.”_ _

__

__“There’s kids here,” Tyler reminds them both. “They don’t need to hear this. Either settle down or just drop it.”_ _

__

__Esme glares at him. “And suddenly you’re on her side?”_ _

__

__“I’m on your side. I’m always on your side. But I’m also on the side of my kids not having to hear this stuff.”_ _

__

__“Oh, I’m sure they’ve heard a lot worse,” Nik snidely remarks. “With you as their father.”_ _

__

__Esme’s eyes narrow. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”_ _

__

__“You know what he’s like. The mouth on him. I’m just saying that I’m sure the kids have heard a lot worse than what we’re talking about.”_ _

__

__“How about you just leave my kids out of this,” Esme suggests. “Or is that real issue? That they’re my kids...with him...and not yours.”_ _

__

__“Jesus Christ,” Kyle moans. “Not this again.”_ _

__

__“That’s what really pissed off six and a half years ago, wasn’t it, Nik. The fact that you wanted more than just the dick and he wouldn’t give it to you. It just pissed you off when he met me and all of sudden he was getting married, having kids, enjoying a normal life. That’s what really bugged you. What still bugs you.”_ _

__

__“Can we not talk about that?” Tyler asks. “Do you really think the kids need to know this kind of shit?”_ _

__

__Esme ignores him. “Why don’t you tell Kyle the real reason you’re here, Nik. And don’t lie and say it was to repair things between us. Tell the truth for once. Tell him you’re here to screw things up all over again.”_ _

__

__“I don’t think we need to talk about this now,” Nik says. “This was supposed to be about coming together and sitting down and ironing things out. To patch things up and see the kids and...”_ _

__

__“I think we should call it a night,” Tyler suggests. “It’s getting late and the kids are tired and have school tomorrow.”_ _

__

__“No,” Esme responds. “We’re not leaving you. She’s going to come clear to my brother about what she’s really here for. How she used our kids as an excuse to come here. Tell him, Nik. Tell him exactly what you came all this way for.”_ _

__

__“Esme,” Tyler warns. “...not here...please.”_ _

__

__“Oh, don’t worry, Kyle. It isn’t for my husband’s dick. For once. It’s all business, isn’t it, Nik. It’s all about the job. And you trying to manipulate Tyler into helping you.”_ _

__

__“Would you stop,” Tyler tightly squeezes her shoulder. “Enough. Stop Not here. Not now. And not in front of the kids.”_ _

__

__“Nik wants to hire Ovi to be a mercenary,” Esme announces. “Ovi. Of all goddamn people.”_ _

__

__“Okay, that’s enough!” Tyler orders. “If you two wants to hash it out or kick the crap out of each other, go do it somewhere else. Just not in front of my kids.”_ _

__

__“You’d think she’d have more comment sense than that because of everything Ovi went through in Dhaka,” Esme continues. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering we wanted us to leave him in the street like a piece of trash. She probably wanted Tyler to leave me there too. Because I was the obstacle in the way or getting what she really wanted.”_ _

__

__“Is this true?” Kyle address Nik. “That’s why you really wanted to come here? To hire Ovi?”_ _

__

__“Oh, not just that,” Esme informs him. “She wants Tyler’s help. She wants him to train Ovi before she sends him off to be killed. She probably wants more than that. She always has.”_ _

__

__“Okay, we’re going.” Tyler tightens his hold on Millie and stands up. “Enough. I’ve had enough. I said not to do this, and you did it anyway. Let’s go.”_ _

__

__“I want to know if any of this is true,” Kyle says. “If that’s the real reason we ended up here. Is it?” he looks back at Nik. “IT had nothing do with fixing things, did it. It was all bullshit. Just to get something you want.”_ _

__

__“That’s Nik’s M.O,” Esme smirks. “That’s all she ever cares about. Getting what she wants. And trying to destroy anyone that stands in her way.”_ _

__

__“Why would you do this?” Nik hisses. “Stoop this low?”_ _

__

__“Now you know how it feels,” Esme give a victorious smile as she stands up. “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Having some bitch trying to fuck your life up.”_ _

__

__“Jesus Christ,” Tyler snarls. “Let’s just go. Enough. You’ve said enough.”_ _

__

__“Oh, I have more tons more I could say.”_ _

__

__“Well another time, another place. We’re leaving. Now.” His tone is demanding. Authoritative. But his face remains calm as he gathers up all the kids; Declan on one hip, Millie on the other. “Let’s go guys,” he says to the twins. “Home time.”_ _

__

__“Thank God,” Tanner huffs. “Adult stuff is so boring.”_ _

__

__Kyle hurries after them as they leave, catching Tyler by the arm before he can get out the side entrance of the patio. “I am so fucking sorry. I had no idea what she was up to,” he says, as Esme and the twins –with TJ pushing the baby stroller- continue the walk to the car. “She told me that she wanted to come here and fix things. And so I could see the kids. I had no clue she had an ulterior motive.”_ _

__

__“That’s one thing about Nik. She always has an ulterior motive. I’m sorry, too. That you had to find out that way. Esme should have just kept her mouth shut. For tonight at least. I tried, but...” Tyler shrugs. “...she doesn’t always listen to me.”_ _

__

__“She doesn’t listen to anyone,” Kyle gives a dry laugh. You guys going to be okay?”_ _

__

__“We’ll be fine. She’ll get home and go off on me for a bit and then she’ll calm down. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m used to it after six and a half years. Good luck with Nik, though. You’re going to need it.”_ _

__

__Kyle frowns and runs a hand over the back of his head. “That bad, huh?”_ _

__

__“Mate, you have idea. If she boots you out and you need a place to crash, you know where to find us.”_ _

__

__“Yeah, don’t be surprised if you come out in the morning and find me drunk and passed out on the beach.”_ _

__

__Tyler smirks. “There’s been times I wished I was loaded and passed out on the beach, believe me. I am sorry. That your sister went off like that. But you were going to find out sooner or later.”_ _

__

__“Better sooner if you ask me.” Kyle says. “Tell her I’m sorry. That you’re dragged back into this shit. Into that life. Esme deserves better than that.”_ _

__

__“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “She does.”_ _


	13. Chapter 13

“Well tonight went pretty good,” Tyler comments, as he joins his wife in the kitchen; leaning stomach first against the island, placing his elbows on the granite countertop and running his palms over his face. “I have to say, you really nailed the whole being civil thing.” 

Esme rolls her eyes; unappreciative of the sarcasm that drips from every word. With all five kids settled for the night, it’s inevitable that the topic of the disastrous end to dinner would be brought up. And he watches as she moves about the room, gathering up snacks for school lunches, preparing the meals, cleaning that day’s garbage out of lunch pails. The dress and make up are long gone; a wide head band holds her hair away from her face and she’s clad in a pair of shorts made from an old pair of sweatpants and a simple white tank top. A far cry from what she’d looked like at dinner, but no less beautiful. 

“Why would you even get into it with her?” he asks. “Aren’t you always the one that’s telling me not to let people get inside my head?” 

“Don’t act like this wasn’t a long time coming. That it hasn’t been six years of her trying to destroy us. Always one thing after another with her. Sending you emails, text messages, showing up at your hotel rooms while on jobs. I’m supposed to be okay with all of that?” 

“I never said that. I never said you had to be okay with it.” 

“You’d be pretty fucking pissed if the roles were reversed. You would have long ago beat the shit out of them if I had an ex that acted like that.” 

“Six months ago your ex helped someone try and kill me, so...” 

“That’s not the same and you know it. Was Mark sending me sexually explicit emails and text messages? Was he getting drunk and sending me naked pictures of himself? Was he showing up in the driveway every time you went out of town?” 

Tyler shrugs. “I dunno. Was he?” 

“You damn well know he wasn’t. Don’t bring Mark into this. He didn’t spend six years playing stupid fucking games trying to get me to cheat on you. And if can’t see the difference between my ex-husband and your ex... whatever the hell she is....” 

“Okay first off. She wasn’t an ex anything. I was fucking her. That’s it. Don’t make it seem more important than it was. You were actually married to that asshole.” 

“Which has no actual bearing on this conversation because he didn’t do the shit that Nik did. Oh my god, can you honestly not see the fucking difference?” 

Tyler smirks. “So being civil doesn’t extend to me either, I see.” 

“You know what, fuck you Tyler. Maybe there’s more to things than you’re letting on. You get awful defensive when I say anything remotely negative about Nik.” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I have enough negative things to say about her myself. I don’t give a crap if you shit talk. I agree with all of it, so...” 

“You were awful quick to defend her though,” Esme points out, as she finishes packing the snacks and juices boxes in the three lunch bags and sets them on the island. 

“When? When did I defend her? Give me one example of when I defended her.” 

“You were on her side the whole time!” 

“Like fuck I was,” he scowls. “I always have your back and you know it.” 

“You kept trying to stop me,” she accuses. “Bossing me around, ordering me about. Like who the hell do you think you are?” 

“Well I have a ring on my fingers and a piece of paper that says I’m your husband. And I was not ordering you around. I just wanted you to stop. It wasn’t the time or place for that shit.” 

“She deserved to hear it.” 

“Which I agree with. But she didn’t need to hear it there. Time and place, Esme. And that was not the time or the place.” 

“Someone with your temper lecturing me about keeping it together?” she snorts. “That’s rich. Because you’re such a pacifist, right Tyler? Give me a break.” She tosses open the door on the dishwasher and begins yanking items out of it; the clatter and rattle increasing in volume with each object she places in the cupboards. “You just don’t like I was insulting your precious Nik,” she snidely remarks. 

“Jesus fuck. Let it go! There was never a me and Nik. I never wanted there to be a me and Nik. It was sex. That’s it.” 

“So like Dhaka,” she remarks. “Just lasting longer.” 

“Don’t even compare the two. Dhaka was totally different.” 

“How?” Esme challenges. “You were fucking her. Just like you were fucking me. What was so different about it?” 

“Well I married you for one. It didn’t end up being just sex in the end, did it? What went on with me and you is completely difference than what went on with me and her. Don’t pretend it isn’t.” 

“Did you feel anything?” she asks. “When you saw her?” 

He laughs. “What?” 

“When she showed up at lunch today. Did you feel anything for her?” 

“Why the hell would I? I’ve never felt anything for her. Why would I start now?” 

“Do you not see the way she looks at you? How she’s been looking at you for the six and a half years?” 

“No. I don’t. And you know why? Because I don’t fucking care. The only one I care about looking at me is you. That’s it. Not Nik, not Millie’s teacher, not any other woman on the planet. You. So stop making me out to be someone bastard that’s going to cheat you. Because I never would. I’m not Mark.” 

“I think I know that.” 

“Do you? Because it’s been six and a half years of trying to prove that to you. Of trying to show you that not all men fuck other women or beat the shit out of them. And I get it. He fucked you up. But when does it stop? When do I get to stop proving to you that I’m not like him?” 

“When have I ever said you had to?!” she retorts. “When have I ever made you feel that I was comparing you to him? I've never once done that, and you know it. That’s in your head, Tyler. And it wasn’t me that put it there.” 

“Who’s the one that’s had to pick up all the pieces and put them back together?” 

“Well I’m sorry that you feel it’s been such burden to you. That I’ve just made your life so hard.” 

“I never said that. Stop overreacting to every I say. That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. And can you please stop doing that?! He gestures towards the dishwasher. “I’m trying to fucking talk to you!” 

“Fine,” she unceremoniously drops a plate onto the counter, then leans back against it, arms crossed over her chest. “Talk. Are you capable of that or you just wanting to unload on me?” 

“I want to talk,” Tyler insists. “I don’t want to fight. Although it’s not getting off to a good fucking start, is it.” 

“You should have had my back,” she snarls. 

“I did! I always do. No questions asked.” 

“You were hell bent on shutting me up.” 

“I didn’t want the kids hearing that shit. They didn’t need to hear any of it. They’re innocent, for fuck sake. Why did you feel the need to say all what you did while they were there? Couldn’t it have waited until they weren’t around?” 

“They’ve heard worse,” Esme reasons. “They’ve heard us fight. They’re probably listening right now, actually.” 

“They’re asleep. But they won’t be for very long if you don’t keep your goddamn voice down. Can we about this rationally? Without yelling or trash talking one another? Can we actually manage that? Because I’m sick of resorting that other shit. We’re supposed to be working on that, remember? Not fighting so much.” 

“And we haven’t been fighting. We’ve barely fought in the last six months. And then she shows up and everything goes to hell. You think I want to fight with you? That I was us to be like this? Because I don’t. I hate it. When we get like this.” 

“Then let’s stay calm and talk about things. Not yell. Talk. Like normal people.” 

She gives a small laugh. “When have we ever been normal? It’s never been normal. It didn’t start out normal and it’s not normal now.” 

“Fuck normal. Normal’s boring. I just want to be us. But not the angry, mean us. Because I hate that version.” 

“So do I. You’re the last person on earth I want be angry with. And I’m not angry at you. I don’t know I’m even freaking out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all that stupid bitch and the fact you stuck your dick in her and now my brother is marrying her and ughhh...” she presses her palms against her forehead. “...please tell me you find this just as screwed up as I do.” 

“Your brother and Nik? Yeah, I do. But you’re the one that set them up because you didn’t want her subjected to Mark, so...” 

“Worst decision ever!” she laments. “And I’ve made some pretty bad decisions. But that one? That one takes the cake.” 

“For what it’s worth,” he walks around the island, then leans back against the counter next to the stove as she fills the kettle with water and plugs it in. “I don’t think she’s with him to cause issues with us. I don’t think it’s some game she’s playing. I think she’s actually sincere about how she feels about him.” 

She smirks. “What makes you think that?” 

“I didn’t just beat the shit out of and kill them when I did the job. I did actually have to talk face to face with them from time to time. I had to learn how to read people.” 

“And here I was, attracted to you because I was under the impression that you were nothing more than a butt kicking bad ass,” she teases. “Brains and brawn. Extra sexy. No wonder I keep you around. You’re not just a pretty face.” 

“You ever think maybe I just stick around? That you’re not actually keep me? That I just like being here?” 

“You really are a glutton for punishment,” she says with a wink, then retrieves two clean mugs from the dishwasher. “So you’re telling me that you were able to ‘read’ Nik?” 

“Both of them actually,” he reveals, as he grabs the milk from the fridge. 

“And?” 

“And it’s legit. The whole thing between them. She’s not playing a game. This isn’t about her trying to weasel her way back into our lives to fuck things up. She’s in love with the guy.” 

“Tyler Rake talking about being able to when a woman is in love with a man,” she shakes her head. “What kind of alternate dimension am I living in?” 

“Well it wasn’t too hard to figure out. It’s the same way you look at me and I know you love me, so...” 

“You’re finally admitting it!” she cries. “Oh my god! You're actually admitting that there’s a ‘look’. You’ve been denying the existence of a ‘look’ for years. Is all that gray hair you’re getting bringing wisdom and enlightenment with it?” 

“You know,” Tyler grins. “You have this really weird way of paying people backhanded compliments.” 

“I like your gray hair. You’re going to look crazy sexy when all of it is like that. And then your beard will go gray too and...” she sighs dreamily. “Are you still going to love me when I have a head full of gray hair?” 

“Baby, I’d love you with no hair.” 

She smiles, and he leans down to kiss her. 

**** 

It’s a clear and beautiful night; a fresh, cool breeze rolling in off the ocean, the full moon reflecting off the surface of the water. They sit side by side on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water, sipping tea and enjoying a comfortable, companionable silence. And when she shivers, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her tight into his side. 

“You saw the ‘look’ with my brother too?” Esme asks, and as she blows on her drink to cool it down. 

Tyler nods. “You can’t tell me you don’t notice it. That he’s crazy about her.” 

“I do notice. I just keep hoping I’m imagining it.” 

“Sorry. I hate to be bearer of bad news, but it’s the real deal.” 

“How you do you know?” 

“Because it’s the same way I look at you.” 

“Awww baby...” she reaches up to tousle his hair, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “...you have the cutest, sweetest moments.” 

“That doesn’t go any further than the two of us. That I say shit like that.” 

“It’s not shit. It’s pure and adorable and it makes you even sexier. Who doesn’t love a man that isn’t afraid to get all sappy and show emotion?” 

“You may love it, but I don’t love being that way. I do it just for you.” 

“Such a burden. The sacrifices you make for the woman you love.” 

There isn’t a sacrifice he wouldn’t make for her. Whether it was something as simple as giving up a few hours of sleep to help with the baby or something as dire as exchanging his life for hers. He’d do it. Willingly. No questions asked. No second thoughts. 

“I wasn’t taking Nik’s said,” he says. “That’s not why I wanted you to stop talking about things. I didn’t want the kids hearing any of that. I mean, you brought up Dhaka. And the bridge.” 

“It was the truth. She was going to leave us there.” 

“I know. But the kids didn’t need to hear that. How do we know they’re not going to school tomorrow and talk about the time both their mom and dad could have died? Like, fuck...” he sighs heavily. “...I didn’t think we’d have talk about that until later. Or ever.” 

“I shouldn’t have brought that stuff up,” she admits. “You’re right?” 

“What?” he grins. “What did you say? I didn’t quite hear you. Can you say that a little louder? Yell it if you have to. So everyone can hear you.” 

“I said you’re right,” she grumbles, and elbows him playfully in the ribs. “Don’t be a shit head. I’ve admitted you’re right before. I admit you’re right at least once a year, every year. Consider it an anniversary gift.” 

“I thought your anniversary gift is letting me fuck you up the a...” 

“Stop!” she orders and places a hand over his mouth. “We do not talk about that. We just do it. We don’t speak of it. Ever.” 

“Why?” he chuckles. “Hurts to admit you’re a freak?” 

“We are not talking about this. You know I hate talking about it. About THAT.” 

“Okay...Okay...I’m sorry. I’ll shut up about it and just enjoy it once a year.” 

“Thank you,” she leans her head against his shoulder and wraps an arm around his waist. “Did they kids say anything? When you were tucking them in? About what they heard tonight.” 

“Not a word. They were too busy going on and on about how awesome it is that Uncle Kyle’s come to visit and that they got to eat off of ‘adult plates’ and drink out of ‘adult glasses’.” 

She grins. 

“And one of your son’s was mad that his spaghetti didn’t have cut up hot dogs in it.” 

Esme laughs. “That has to be Tyler. That’s his favorite food.” 

“That kid’s a freak. Like his mother.” 

“He’s all you and you know it!” 

“I do not like piece of hot dog in spaghetti. That's fucking gross.” 

“You complain about that but you eat vegemite?” she challenges. 

“What are you talking about? That shit is amazing.” 

“It’s disgusting!” And you even have the fucking nerve to put it on steak sometimes! That should be illegal. Ruining a good steak like that. That stuff is just....ewwww...” she shudders dramatically. 

“You know what would be really awesome though,” Tyler muses. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask.” 

“If I was to put vegemite on something else and eat it off.” 

She frowns. “Please tell me you’re not talking about...” 

“I so am.” 

“And you call me a freak!” she attempts to shove him away with her elbows, then shrieks and arches her back and starts to giggle when he grabs her in the sensitive spot just below her ribs and aggressively tickles. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re disturbed! I’m not letting you put vegemite there!” 

“You let me put chocolate sauce there. And strawberry jam.” 

“Which are both way better than vegemite. You’re gross, Tyler! What is your major malfunction?” 

“Well I love vegemite and you. So if I combine the two...” 

“You’re disgusting. How do I stay married to you?” 

“Because I dick you down as well as I do. And you love me.” 

“Okay. I’ll give you those. You are seriously warped though.” 

Grinning, he presses a kiss to her temple and then pulls her even tighter into his side. And for several minutes they sit quietly, admiring the reflection of the moon upon the water, enjoying the breeze that tousles the treetops and lightly stirs up the sand. 

*** 

“You seem pretty calm,” she comments, as she sips her tea. “About Nik showing up.” 

“I was not calm this afternoon. Trust me.” 

“And now?” 

“Now I’m pissed. Not a raging pissed. But pissed. Just that she has the fucking nerve to want more from me. I have nothing left to give her. I’ve shed enough blood for her. I don’t know what more she could possibly want.” 

“As much as I stand her, she’s actually onto something. Asking you to train Ovi. She knows there’s no one else out there that can do the job like you can. She knows he’ll be trained right. You’re not going to half ass it.” 

“I’d rather not be doing it at all.” 

“But you have to. For Ovi. The chances of him surviving the job will be a hell of a lot higher if you train him.” 

Tyler smirks. “You have a lot of faith in me.” 

“It’s not faith. I just know that you were one of the best. If not the best. I knew that before we even met; I used to hear your name get passed around in certain circles. Everyone knew what you did and how well you did it, yet no one knew for sure that you even existed. And if you can’t talk Ovi out of doing this, at least you can teach him what he needs to stay alive, right?” 

He nods in agreement. 

“There’s something else bugging you, isn’t there. I can just tell. It’s not just the training thing. It’s more than that.” 

“Esme, I don’t need to tell you everything. You don’t need all that on your shoulders.” 

“Remember what the therapist said? About shouldering everything on your own? That if you keep doing it and don’t learn to open up about things, we won’t make it. And that scares me, Tyler. Because I want us to make it. I wouldn’t be working as hard as I am and going to see therapists if I didn’t.” 

He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I want us to make it too.” 

“Then stop being such a stubborn asshole and talk to me. Please. Stop worrying about how much I can deal with it or that you’re somehow a burden. Because you’re not. You never could be. We’re in this together. You’re shit is my shit. As soon as we got married, we took on each other’s shit. So I need you to talk to me.” 

He sighs heavily and takes a swallow of now lukewarm tea. “It’s just something that Nik said. It’s been eating at me since this afternoon.” 

“Okay....” 

“She said that Ovi is going this because he feels as if he has something to prove to me.” 

“What?” she gives an incredulous laugh. “That makes no sense. What would he have to prove to you?” 

“She said I’ve made him feel like he has to prove he’s worthy of being my kid. For me to love him like one of my kids.” 

Esme scowls. “She actually said that to you?” 

“It’s been bugging me all fucking day. Because I keep wracking my brain trying to come up with something...anything...that I might have said or done to make him feel that way.” 

“You haven’t said or done anything. That’s just Nik being a callous, manipulative bitch. Ovi would never...ever...say that about you. You’ve always loved that kid. No strings attached. Not once have you ever made him feel ‘less than’ because he’s not yours by blood. You realize that she’s fucking with your head, right? She’s trying to guilt you into helping her. It’s what she does. Like how she pulled that ‘you’ll never be able to properly provide for your family without the job’ card when I was having the twins.” 

“And I fell for it and nearly destroyed us in the end.” 

“Well this time, that won’t happen. You’re doing what you have to do to help Ovi. And we both know he’ll be better off for it. And if you have to get back into it to help him, that’s fine. But Tyler...I am telling you right now...if you go back into the job for no reason, I’m done. I can’t live that life again. And never can the kids. If you do that...go willingly...we won’t be here when you get back.” 

He sighs heavily and squeezes her shoulder. “I know.” 

“Because I love you, but I love my kids more. I have to do what’s best for them. And life is not it. You know that.” 

He nods in agreement. It’s a painful, hate truth that hits deep. But is one that he needs to hear. He’s run out of chances. He knows it. She's taken him back and seen past all the broken promises and forgiven him time and time again. Way more times that he actually deserved. 

“Promise me you won’t go back,” she says. “Only if you have to. To help Ovi.” 

“I’m not going back, baby. Not unless there’s no other choice. I don’t want to lose you. Or my kids. I can't lose you guys.” 

She presses a kiss to his cheek, then slides her hand over his ribs, onto his back and up to the nape of his hair; nails lightly scratching at the back of his head. “You need to go back on your meds,” she says. 

Tyler frowns. “How’d you...” 

“You honestly think I don’t know when you stop taking them? And no. I’m not opening the bottle and counting them. It’s the way you get. You start having trouble sleeping again, you’re easily agitated, you fidget a lot and you can’t stay still, you’re super fucking moody. You can’t just stop them. That’s not how these things work.” 

“I was feeling fine,” he shrugs, and the excuse sounds lame even to his own ears. 

“You were feeling fine because you were taking your meds. Isn’t that obvious? I mean, if you’re feeling like this when you’re off them...” 

“It’s just the withdrawal.” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It isn’t just the withdrawal. It’s how you feel when you’re not on them. And I know it makes you think you’re weak that you have to take them and that it somehow makes you ‘less of a man’ that you have to rely on these things. But that’s crap too. It takes a stronger, bigger man to realize something is wrong and then work on getting his shit together.” 

“I know you believe that, and maybe it’s true. And it should make me feel better. But I hate this. Being this way.” 

“I know you do,” she rubs his back comfortingly. “And I wish you didn’t have to deal with this. But you are. Dealing with it. And you’re doing a lot better than you think you are.” 

“Yeah? Because it doesn’t fucking feel like it.” 

“Well if you’re not taking your meds, you’re going to feel like that. Why do you do this to yourself? You know you feel better when you’re taking them. You see the difference they make.” 

“It’s the fact I have to take them in the first place. That my brain is so fucked up that it can’t function on its own. I hate that I can’t wake up in the morning without needing meds. It’s pathetic. And it’s weak.” 

“It is not weak,” she insists. “You are not weak. That is some Gaspar bullshit in your head. Or your father. Those two voices are the last ones you should be listening to. Gaspar was a sociopath and your father...well we know what he is.” 

“And if I end up just like him?” 

“Who? Gaspar?” 

“Fuck, that’s even worse. My father.” 

“Tyler, you are nothing like your father. You have your issues, but you are not like that. Not in the slightest. You need to get that out of your head, too. Because if you were like that, I wouldn’t be here, and neither would your kids. We would not be sticking around to put up with that bullshit. And as far as the other one goes...Gaspar...now that was person who was fucked up. You think your brain is messed up? How screwed up was his that he was willing to kill a kid? He was just going to hand Ovi over. What kind of whack job would do something like that?” 

He’s never told her. That the ten million dollars wasn’t just to hand Ovi over, but her as well. A package deal, Gaspar had told him. Ovi’s dead body a trophy Asif could gloat over, her very much alive on a plaything he could add to his collection. For six and a half years he’s been holding onto that secret. It’s for her own good; nothing positive could ever come out of her knowing the whole truth. It’s bad enough that there are still times when he looks at her and thinks about what Gaspar had said. About all of the things that would have been done to her before Asif finally got bored and put her out of her misery. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, and he’s suddenly aware of how tense his shoulders have become; how tight his jaw is clenched. 

Tyler nods, then turns his face into hers and presses his lips to her forehead. “Just brings back some bad shit. Talking about him. Gaspar. That was a huge fucking mistake. Asking him for help.” 

“He was your friend. Or at least you thought he was. You didn’t know what he was capable of. Money brings out the worst in a lot of people. He’s the perfect example. I still can’t believe you were even friends with someone like that. You’re just so...I don’t know...different. You’re human. He wasn’t. Anyone that would do something like that to a kid is a shitty human being and they deserve everything horrible that happens to them.” 

Yet he’d still mourned Gaspar. As he sat there on the steps with Ovi, watching his old friend take his last breaths. Part of him had grieved. Not for the actual loss of life, but that Ovi had been forced to kill Gaspar in the first place. That he’d trusted someone...someone he’d considered a friend...and they’d betrayed him. And sometimes that loss is the more painful than losing the actual person. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Esme says. “Everything that happened at Gaspar’s house. There’s no way you could have known what he was going to do. You had no reason to believe that he’d do something like that. That he’d be friends with someone like Asif.” 

“Something was off. When I first talked to him in the kitchen. When he said he was going to ‘kiss his wife’. There was something that wasn’t quite right about it. I didn’t think about it until afterwards.” 

“Was there ever a wife? That’s what I’d like to know.” 

Tyler shrugs. 

“There wasn’t one picture in that house. There wasn’t even a single toothbrush in the bathroom, let alone two. It was just weird. It was like no one actually lived there. Almost like it was a safe house.” 

“Or a place he took people to to hold them for Asif.” 

“You don’t think that’s what would have happened, do you? Had he killed you to get to Ovi. You don’t think he would have kept us there until...” 

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about it; what would have happened if Ovi hadn’t have done what he did. Because you would have been left behind too and that’s not something I want in my head. It wouldn’t have been quick and painless for you.” 

“Tyler, you need to stop dwelling on things that could have happened. Don’t go down that rabbit hole, okay? Nothing good will come of that and you know it. I don’t want you doing that to yourself. Things happen for a reason. Ovi was meant to kill Gaspar so everything else could fall into place. If things hadn’t had happened the way they did...in the order they did...we wouldn’t be here right now. Six and a half years later. Five kids later. I bet you didn’t think that’s where your life would end up. When Nik and I showed up at your place that day.” 

“I don’t know,” he grins. “You were pretty cute.” 

“Well where you lived, you didn’t have many options to choose from, so...” 

“Stop that,” he gently scolds, and lays a hand on the side of her head and kisses her temple. “You were beautiful.” 

She smiles, then wraps both arms around his torso and leans into him. 

“And you had those jeans shorts on that were a little tight in the ass and...” 

“You were actually checking out my ass? The second I walked in the door?” 

“It was more like thirty seconds.” 

She snorts. 

“What? I’m a guy. A red-blooded guy who knows a good thing when he sees one. And you just walked right in through the front door. When you’re given a gift like that...” 

“You’re an ass,” she laughs. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were insanely hot. You were not what I expected. At all. All the stories that I’d heard about you, you did not look like what I thought you would look like.” 

“What did you think I would look like?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know. But it wasn’t that. I guess I expected someone older. Not nearly as attractive. And definitely not as ripped. That was a pleasant surprise. Walking in there and seeing you. I mean, who doesn’t love a jacked guy with pretty blue eyes? I was worried. When Nik told me her plan. I didn’t want to be pretend married to some old, ugly guy.” 

“You thought I’d be old and ugly? What the fuck?” 

“I didn’t know what you looked like. I thought someone with the experience and the body count you had would look...I don’t know...old. Haggard. That he’d have a dad bod. Not an eight pack and an ass you could bounce a quarter off.” 

He chuckles at that. 

“I know it was weird for you. Going into a job like that. Having to be ‘pretend married’.” 

“It was a first. But it wasn’t weird. I mean, you were nice to look at. It could have been worse.” 

“Yeah, I could have made you sleep on the floor the entire five days.” 

“Now that would have been a fucking tragedy. So thank you. Thank you for letting me into your pants so easily.” 

“You’re such a dick,” she laughs. 

“Those five days were....” 

“Interesting?” 

“I was going to say fucking awesome, but I guess interesting works too.” 

“They were pretty intense,” she says. “In a fun way.” 

“In a very fun way. Most fun I’ve had on the job. Ever. Hands down.” 

“Well look where your fun has led you. Where five days of crazy sex has brought you. A wife, five kids. Definitely not where you thought you’d end up.” 

“Maybe not. But it doesn’t mean I’m not exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

“Boy,” she pulls back and smiles at him. “You’re on fire tonight with the sappy shit. I’d say you were doing it just to try and get into my pants, but that’s hardly a challenge anymore and you know you don’t have to work as hard at it.” 

“Have you ever thought that I’m just happy? Being here. With you. That I’m glad this is where my life ended up? That I even survived to get a chance to have any of this? Because that’s the closest to death I’ve ever been. And I don’t want to be that close to it ever again. I got my second chance. I’m not going to fuck that up.” 

She kisses him. Long and soft, a hand on the side of his face, the other resting on his ribs. “You’re kind of my favorite,” she says, and presses her lips to the bridge of his nose. 

“You’re kind of my favorite too.” 

She tousles his hair, then pulls her feet from the pool and stands up. “I’m going to go and check on the kids and then I’m going to go and have a long, hot bath. Unless you want to have a shower and then we can just save water.” 

He tilts his head back to look up at her, grinning. “I’ll be in in a little bit.” 

“Okay. Don’t be too long,” she pecks his lips. “And get out of your head,” she orders, as she heads towards the house. “Nothing good ever comes out of spending too much time in there. Don’t let bad shit live there rent free.” 

“You’re a naggy pain in the ass, you know that?” 

“But I’m your naggy pain in the ass. And you’d miss this ass. Don’t deny it.” 

“I’d miss more than the ass,” he informs her. 

“Yeah, I know exactly what you’d miss.” 

“Everything,” he says. “I’d miss everything.” 

She gives him one last smile and a small wink, then disappears into the house.


	14. Chapter 14

It’s shy of three in the morning when he wakes with the baby; jarred from sleep by the initially soft yet insistent whimpers and cries from the bassinette at the end of the bed. Even with the meds he’d taken before bed, Tyler’s still able to awaken at the drop of a dime, his brain and body on high alert. Years of having to constantly be on guard and ready for any possible threat engrained in every inch of him. Even the smallest of movements or noise can have him fully alert in seconds; the wind gently rattling the windows, the dog knocking something over downstairs, one of the kids mumbling or tossing and turning in their sleep. It used to cause instant panic when he bolted awake; brain trying to ascertain if there was a legitimate threat, and if there was, how to deal with it. Now he’s able to stay calm. No cold sweat, no racing heart, no struggle to breathe. 

“Tyler, “Esme mumbles beside him when the crying begins to increase in intensity, then digs in elbow into chest. 

“I’m awake,” he says, and rolls over onto his back, pressing the heels of the palms into his eyes before sitting up swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. It’s their ‘thing’ if the baby stays in their room: anything after two am, he willingly tends to. Five kids in six years? He figures it’s the least he can do. 

The bedroom door creaks open and Mac pads into the room. Since moving his nightly routine changed, preferring to sleep in the middle of the upstairs hallways in case he senses any of his people –especially the little ones- needed him. And he immediately sits down at the side of the bassinette, a head cocked to the side as he watches Tyler intently, as if questioning what is taking him so long to react. 

“You have to just bring her to me,” Esme says, and give a loud, long yawn. “I’ve been slacking. I didn’t make any bottles up after we ran out this morning.” 

“You need to get your shit together then,” he teases, groaning as he stands. The pain isn’t too bad tonight, just a dull ache in the deepest parts of his shoulder and a stiff knee. 

“You need to bite me,” she retorts, and tosses a pillow in his direction. 

“See that,” he speaks to the dog, ruffling the fur at the back of his neck. “See what I put up? Her throwing shit at me?” 

“You’re lucky I don’t smother you with it sometimes,” she informs him, as she sits up in bed and catches the pillow when he tosses it back. Arranging it and two others behind her back for comfort. “You were talking in your sleep. Again.” 

“That’s your thing. I do not talk in my sleep.” 

“I’m going to record you. You were talking about Austin and Millie and something about ‘leaving yet’. That’s three night in a row. What are you dreaming about?” 

“I don’t know.” he lies, as he unwraps the baby from the tight swaddling he’d put her in before bed, then lifts her to his chest; one hand on her diapered bum, the other on the back of her head, his lips pressed to her thick, silky hair. She settles almost immediately, a tiny fist finding the chain around his neck and gripping tightly. 

“But it was about Austin and Millie?” she inquires. 

“I guess. I don’t remember. Guess it was one of those dreams you forget about as soon as you wake up.” It’s bullshit of course. He remembers ever second of it. Every vivid detail whether big of small. The smell of the ocean, the feel of the sand beneath his feet and between his toes, the sounds of their voices and their laughter. The same backdrop as his old visions and dreams of Austin, only with an extra and even more painful component. 

“I guess,” she gives another yawn, as he lays the baby in her arms and she turns her face up towards him when he leans down to press a kiss to her lips. “Where are you going?” she asks, when he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and heads for the door. 

“I’m hungry? Want anything?” It’s a small and simple gesture that he’d adopted years ago when they’d first brought Millie home: bringing her a small snack and something to drink while the baby was at the breast. It’s not much, but it’s down with love and immense gratitude. After all, she’d single handily given him a new life: a chance to get things right as a husband and a father. What were small tokens appreciation in the grand scheme of things?” 

“Surprise me,” she smiles. “But I swear to God, if you bring any vegemite into this bed, I will make you sleep on the couch for at least a month.” 

“One vegemite sandwich coming up, he teases, chuckling as she flips him the middle finger. 

He checks on the kids before heading downstairs; fixing blankets and fetching pillows from off the floor, careful not wake them when getting them settled back into comfortable positions. The twins once again in the bottom bunk together, this time with their backs pressed together, each of them clutching a beloved stuffed animal –or their ‘lovies’ as they call them- to their chests. Declan is on the floor beside his toddler bed; on his stomach, knees tucked into his body, ass in the air. The same way he’s been sleeping since he was a baby and could get himself into the position on his own. He’s fallen out sometime in the middle of the night and had decided it was way too much effort to get back into bed. Tyler leaves him where he is, simply covering him with his comforter before leaving the room. 

He spends the most time in with Millie. Crouched by the side of her bed, a hand on her head as he watches her sleep. Trying to full his brain with better, happier images of her. And erase the feelings of anxiety and dread that threaten to eat him alive. 

**** 

“Everything okay?” Esme asks when he finally returns, bringing with him a plate of peanut butter and banana sandwiches and two glasses of milk. 

“Your brother’s passed out on the back deck,” he replies, as he sits one of the drinks down on the table next to her side of the bed. 

When he’d gotten into the kitchen, he’d thought he was going insane because he could hear a very distinct snore coming from outside. It isn’t unusual to get wildlife that close to the house; extremely tame and bold kangaroos and koalas that would come right up to the sliding door looking for food. But he’d never heard any animal that sounded like THAT. So it came as no real surprise when he’d flipped on the outside light and found Kyle passed out in one of the reclining chairs, surrounded by several, if not dozens, of empty better bottles. 

“Did you wake him up?” she asks. “Tell him to either come in or leave?” 

“Fuck him. I felt him there. He’s thrashed. There’s at least half a two four he finished when he got here. He wants to get loaded and show up here like that, he can pay the price and sleep outside.” 

“I hope Becky or Mildred don’t pee on him,” she muses. Becky being one of their frequent koala guests and Mildred a young kangaroo that will eat grapes and heads of lettuce out of the palm of your hand. “Or try to hump him in his sleep.” 

“Probably the best action he’s gotten in a while. So maybe it’s a good thing if they do.” 

“You are slightly disturbing,” she laughs, as he slides back into bed and settles himself beside her, leaning back against the headboard and placing the plate of food between them. “Now I’m intrigued,” she says, as she reaches for a sandwich. “Are you insinuating that Nik sucks in bed?” 

“Are you asking me from my personal experience? I thought you don’t like to talk me to talk about those kinds of things.” 

“You can’t drop a comment about kangaroos and koala sex and not expect me to want more details. By the way...” she bites into the sandwich and then gives a long, dramatic sigh. “...you’re the best. You actually made my favorite.” 

He reaches out and puts a hand on the side of her head, gently pulling her towards him and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“So?” she presses. “Was she? Bad in bed?” 

“I don’t know if bad is the word I’d use to describe it.” 

“Well if you kept going back for it, it couldn’t have been THAT bad.” 

Tyler shrugs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. “She was just...I don’t know...boring?” 

“Vanilla?” 

“So vanilla it hurts.” 

“Really? That surprises me. I always thought she’d be a wild child between the sheets.” 

“I always thought maybe you two...you know...” 

“What?” she laughs. “Oh my god. Nik? She is so not my type. And in all honesty, I’ve only ever done that twice. Long before I met you. Even before I met Mark.” 

“I think it’s totally hot.” 

“What? Thinking of me with another girl?” 

Tyler nods. “Not that I want you to run off and cheat on me with a girl. Or bring one home. Because I don’t do shit like that and I don’t like to share. But it’s still hot. Thinking about it.” 

She arches an eyebrow. “You think about it a lot?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Sometimes, I guess. Not a lot. Just you know, once or twice when I’ve had to do things on my own.” 

“You’re dirty,” she chides, and nudges him with her elbow. “No wonder I love you so much. That filthy mind of yours. The best part is that it doesn’t just stay in your mind. You’re not shy when it comes to those sorts of things.” 

“Well when you’re married to a nympho, you get to try a lot of things. Especially when she’s as freaky as you are. But yeah. She was boring.” 

“In what way?” 

“I had to do all the work,” he reveals. “Might as well have been fucking the mattress. Should have just stuck to....” he makes an up and down hand motion, symbolizing jerking off. “...wouldn’t have all the fucking drama following me around. She also only likes to receive not give. And when I say doesn’t like to give, I mean not once. Ever.” 

Esme snorts. “My heart bleeds for you. You poor baby.” 

“It’s all good You make up for it. And then some?” 

“Is she the last person you were with before me?” 

“Yup.” 

“How long before?” 

“Few months.” 

“And you never...in four months...slept with anyone else?” 

“Didn’t feel the need to. I would have eventually if the dry spell lasted any longer. Getting laid wasn’t on my list of priorities so I didn’t think about going out to find some random to fuck. And then you showed up...” he shrugs. 

“Must have been like Christmas for you,” she grins. 

“Five days of the best Christmas ever,” he declares. 

She takes another bite of her sandwich. “So how many were there?” she casually asks. 

“How many what?” 

“Women. In your life.” 

“I dunno. I didn’t keep track.” 

Her eyes widen. “That many? So many you couldn’t keep track? Are you serious right now?” 

“No. I just didn’t bother keeping track. Who cares? It was just fucking. No big deal.” 

“So just randoms, or...” 

He sips his milk. “Why are we even talking about this?” 

“I’m curious. We’ve been married for almost six and a half years and we’ve never talked about it.” 

“Why is there a reason to?” 

“I told you how many men I’d been with,” she reminds him. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask because it didn’t matter to me. I knew you had a life before me. What you did and who you did it with didn’t matter.” 

“Is it under a dozen?” 

“Esme....stop...” 

“Two dozen?” 

He just smiles. 

“More than two dozen? Is it between three and four?” 

“Not that many,” he chuckles. “I didn’t want my dick falling off ‘cause I caught something. Two dozen. Maybe a bit more. And they were randoms at first and then became people I could call up when I was in town.” 

“Have you ever talked to any of them while you’ve been out of town in the last six years?” 

Tyler frowns. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not cheater. I would never do that to you. I love you way too much to something like that. I’m perfectly happy being a one-woman man.” 

“I wonder if they wonder where you ever disappeared to. All your little pieces of ass stashed all over the world. I bet they miss you. Because you like to give more than you like to receive.” 

“That’s definitely one of my better qualities. I know you don’t complain.” He gives the remaining half of a sandwich to Mac, places the plate and glass on the nightstand, and then wraps his arm around her shoulders. Settling himself tightly against her as she moves Addie from one breast to the other. 

“You don’t have to stay up,” Esme says. “You can go back to sleep.” 

“I know I don’t have to stay up. But I want to.” 

She smiles and rests her head against his chest as he rubs at her arm with one hand and then reaches across his body with the other; gently laying his palm against Addie’s head, thumb repeatedly stroking her hair. And he leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing in the warmth of his wife’s body against him and the soft, content noises that the baby makes as she feeds. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esme asks, and his eyes flicker open. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen asleep, his arm now loose around her, the hand that had been holding Addie’s head now resting in his lap. 

“About what?” 

“Your dream. That one that made you talk in your sleep.” 

“I told you,” he grimaces as he stretches his legs out. “I don’t remember what it was about.” 

“And I don’t believe you.” she says, as she buttons up the old dress shirt of his that she’s worn to bed, then places Addie against his chest. “You and your useless nipple are needed now,” she chides. 

He places a hand between the baby’s shoulders, fingers supporting her hand, then uses the other to rub her back in slow, soft circles in an attempt to burp her. 

“So?” Esme presses. “What was it about?” 

“It’s three in the morning,” he reminds her. 

“We’ve had a lot of talks at three in the morning. So out with it. Fess up. Or I won’t let you go back to sleep at all if you don’t. I’m not fucking around, Tyler. You need to stop holding shit back. It’s not good for you. It’s not good for us.” 

He sighs. 

“I don’t know why you feel like you have to hold things back. We’ve been together for six and a half years. We have five kids together. You’d think by now that you’d trust me enough to tell me things.” 

“This is not about trusting you,” he assures her. “I trust you. With our kids' lives. With my life. It’s about not wanting to put more on you. You’ve got enough on your plate.” 

“And you always help me deal with things, right? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Help each other? We’re a team. If we can work together and successfully keep five little humans alive, I think we can successfully help one another deal with shit.” 

He smirks. “You’re starting to sound too much like the therapist.” 

“Who happens to be highly educated and respected,” Esme points out. “So stop. Please. Just tell me. It’s been three nights in a row. And I know it’s the same dream because you’re taking about the same two people each time. So...” 

“It’s about Austin. And Millie,” he confirms the obvious. 

“Okay. And....?” 

“Just the three of us. Walking on the beach. And they’re ahead of me and they’re holding hands and talking and laughing and feels so...I don’t know...perfect.” 

She gives a small smile and patiently waits for him to continue. 

“And they start walking towards the water and I keep telling them to come and back and they’re not listening to me. No matter how close I think I’m getting to them, they just keep getting further and further away.” 

He can feel it. The anxiety gnawing at his chest and stomach, the emotion that begins contracting his throat, the tears that burn his eye. And he closes them; cursing his fucked up brain and trying to concentrate on the ‘here and now’. On his wife’s hand as it comes to rest on his thigh, rubbing softly. And on that tiny baby pressed to his chest; the feel of her hair against his fingers and the smell that clings to her body and clothes. 

“And I yelling at them to stop,” he continues. “To just come back. And then they just start fading away and I freak out, telling them that it’s not time yet. I’m for them to go.” The tears come easily now, and he screws his eyes tightly shut to hold them back. “Both of them. Gone. Just like that. And I can’t do anything to stop it.” 

“It’s okay,” her voice is gentle and soothing, her hand moving comfortingly along his thigh and over his knee. “It’s alright now. It was just a dream. Do you know what might have brought it on?” 

“Millie’s going to be six.” 

“I know that.” She shifts her position on the bed; turning to face him and reaching out to clear his tears away with gentle fingers. 

“Austin was six,” he says. “When he died. 

“I knew it would be hard for you. I didn’t know how hard though. Why didn’t you tell me about this? How long as it been going? The dream. The way you're feeling.” 

“Two or three weeks,” he admits. 

“And you never said anything?” 

“We just had a baby. I didn’t want to talk about that kind of shit.” 

“It’s not shit. It’s your son. And one of your daughters. You didn’t have to hold that in, Tyler. You know you didn’t. What are you thinking? Right now. Tell me what’s going on in your head.” 

“I’m worried. I’m worried and I’m fucking scared. That she’s going to wake up that morning and she’s going to be sick. And it’s going to be something terrible that no one will be able to help her and I’m going to lose her too.” 

“Jesus....Tyler...” she lays a hand on the side of his face and he turns into it, pressing a kiss against her palm. “...you’ve been keeping all that in for all this time?” 

He nods. 

“Why? Why do you do that to yourself? I hate that you keep doing this. Torturing yourself like this.” 

“I don’t want to lose her. She’s my first. After Autism. I didn’t think I’d ever be a dad again. And then you came along and gave me her.” 

“Millie’s fine though. She’s happy. She’s healthy.” 

“Austin was too. Healthy. Until he wasn’t.” 

“Do you realize the chances of that happening? Her waking up sick like that? You know it’s slim to none, right?” 

“Logically, yeah. But my fucking brain isn’t actually thinking logically these days, is it. I mean, what if it’s my fault? What if I’ve got some messed up gene and I passed it down to her?” 

“That’s not how it works, baby. You did not give Austin cancer. In the same you’re not going to give it to Millie. You know that’s irrational, right? To think that way?” 

He nods. 

Esme sighs, then takes the baby from him and places her middle of the bed. Climbing into his lap, she holds his face in both hands, eyes never leaving his as her fingers wipe away his tears. “Nothing is going to happen to Millie,” she insists. “She’s fine. She’s not going to get sick.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“You probably have a better chance of getting hit by lightning than you do of her getting sick. I wish I knew what to do for you. To take all the pain away. Because I’d do it. In a heartbeat.” 

He manages a smile. “I know you would.” 

“You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of the hell your brain is putting through. I’m sorry....” she fights back her own tears. “...that I can’t help.” 

“You do,” he says. “More than you realize.” 

She presses a kiss to his forehead, and wrapping both arms around her waist, rests his head against her chest and holds her as tight as he possibly can. 

**** 

He’s up minutes before sunrise, leaving Esme and the baby sleeping as he heads downstairs, Mac following close behind. It’s their morning ritual when it’s just the two of them; Tyler sipping coffee out on the back patio while he watches the sun come up, then Mac for a walk along the beach and allowing him run in and out of the surf. He relishes that before the kids wake up, when the house is still cloaked in peaceful slumber. It gives him a chance to catch his breath. Allows his nerves and his brain to relax before all the noise and commotion of the day begin. 

This morning he takes two coffees out outside with him: setting them down on the table before standing alongside the reclining chair that his brother in law sleeps in, an arm and a leg dangling over the side. And he shakes his head in a mixture of dismay and disgust and directs a solid kick at Kyle’s foot. 

“Get up,” he orders. 

Kyle mumbles in his sleep; a mixture of refusals and profanities. Then rolls over onto his side. 

Tyler digs his knee into the small of his brother in law’s back. pressing painfully hard against the middle of his spine. “I said get up.” 

“Go away,” the other man mutters. “Fuck off.” 

“You’re passed out drunk outside of my place and you’re telling me to fuck off? Either your drunk ass up or I’ll get do it for you. Easy way or the hard way. Your choice.” 

Kyle relents; groaning in agony as he sits up in the chair. Eyes screwed tightly shut, a hand resting against his forehead. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” 

“I’ve seen a guy that’s been hit by a truck. You look worse. Here,” he taps one of the coffee mugs against Kyle’s shoulder. “Drink it. Hopefully it helps sober you up. You’re trashed. You smell like you brought the whole bar back with you.” 

“I feel like I drank the whole bar.” He clasps the mug in his hands, sipping gingerly at the piping hot brews. “Now that’s good.” 

“Be thankful I woke up before your sister. I love her, but she can’t make decent coffee for shit.” 

Kyle laughs at that, then moans in agony and places a hand against his aching head. “What time is it?” 

“Just after six.” Tyler drops into the chair beside him, placing his bare foot on the small table in front of him. “I want you sobered up before the kids get up for school. And I want all this shit...” he nods down at all the empty beer bottles. “...cleaned up. I don’t want them seeing this shit. And take a fucking shower. You reek.” 

Kyle scowls. “I’m not one of your kids.” 

“No, but you brought your shit around my kids. I don’t want them around this. It’s why I got clean. So they wouldn’t see what a mess I could be. And they don’t need to be seeing you like that either. The fuck is wrong with you? Bringing this crap to my house?” 

“You said if I needed a place to crash...” 

“I didn’t mean to show up loaded. Have some respect for my wife. For my kids. We don’t live like this. If you wanted to get trashed, you should have done it somewhere else.” 

“I wasn’t thinking about all of that,” he admits. “You cleaning yourself up. I just needed to get there hell out of there and I knew I’d be welcome here. Or at least I thought I would be.” 

“Cry me a fucking river. How’d you even get here anyway?” 

“Drove.” 

“How drunk were you?” 

Kyle shrugs. 

“You’re a fucking drongo.” 

The other man frowns. “What’s that mean?” 

“Means you’re an idiot.” 

“You always this grumpy in the morning or...” 

“I can get worse if you like,” Tyler offers. “I’ve had three hours sleep, I’m in fucking agony, and now I’m putting up with your bullshit. So do me a favor and drink the coffee and keep your mouth shut and just sit there and enjoy the fucking sunrise.” 

Kyle holds a hand up in surrender, then sips slowly at his drink. 

Tyler basks in the silence, sitting low in his chair with both feet on the table. Enjoying fresh, hot coffee and the brilliant sunrise and listening to the sound of the ocean. The waves are strong today, and local forecasters had already declared it an excellent day of surfing. It’s how he plans to spend his afternoon once Esme returns from the doctor and takes over watching the baby and Declan. She never denies him those things; the hobbies that help keep him grounded and sane. And he knows how lucky he is; not to have to worry about a wife that constantly demands his attention and can’t take care of herself. That he’d been blessed to find someone with a personality equally as strong as his; fiercely independent, tenacious, assertive to a fault. 

He sits up and glances towards over his shoulder as the screen door slides open, smiling at her as she steps out of the house with Declan on her hip. 

“Well...well...well...” she says, as she glares at Kyle. “...look who got right messed up last night.” 

“Thanks to you,” her brother grumbles. 

“Do you feel as good as you look? Because you look like shit.” 

He flips her the middle finger. 

“Charming. Go see daddy,” she kisses the side of Declan’s head and sets him on the ground. “You might want to cover his ears,” she says to Tyler, as Declan climbs up onto his lap and he helps the toddler hold the mug, allowing him to sip at now lukewarm coffee. "What the fuck is wrong with you?” she addresses her brother. “You bring this shit here? Of all the houses to bring your drunk ass to! Where my kids live. Are you unhinged?” 

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” he admits. 

“Obviously. We don’t want this shit here, Kyle. You know the struggle that this house has gone through with booze. And you still bring it here?” 

“I went to your neighbors first, but she didn’t answer the door.” 

“Oh...my....God. Are you serious? You went to Salena’s? Why would you do that?” 

“Who’s Salena?” Tyler asks. 

“The new neighbor,” Kyle replies. “Bruh...she’s pretty cute too.” 

Tyler looks back his wife. “We have a new neighbor?” 

“She moved into the place next door.” Esme says. “If you left the house more often, you would have met her by now.” 

“Hey now, I’m the innocent one here. Don’t freak out on me.” 

She gives an apologetic smile, then turns back to her brother. “What would possess you to go there?” 

“I met her yesterday. She seemed nice.” 

“Nice enough to that she’d welcome your drunk ass into her house. Jesus Christ, Kyle. You’re here one day and you’re already fucking things up? We’ve lived here six months and have had no issues. Until now.” 

“Well if you hadn’t have caused issues last night, I wouldn’t have had to come here in the first place,” he retorts. 

“Oh that’s it. Blame your shitty taste in women on me.” 

“You introduced us!” 

“He’s got a point,” Tyler remarks, and then shrugs when she glares at him. 

“I didn’t think you’d end up that serious about her!” Esme exclaims. “I mean, she has history with your own brother in law. You don’t think it’s the least bit weird that you’re marrying someone that’s fucked him?” she nods in Tyler’s direction. “Someone that’s married to your sister. That’s messed up, Kyle.” 

He looks to Tyler for back up. 

“This isn’t the hill I want to die on, mate. This is between you two. I’ve got nothing to do with this. In fact...” he sets the mug down on the ground and stands up, taking a hold of Declan and placing him on his shoulders; reaching up to place a protective hand on his son’s back as the toddler wraps both arms around the top of his head. “We’re getting the hell out of here before we get brought into this.” 

Esme watches him as he goes, Declan holding on as tight as he can, Mac happily trotting alongside of them. And they stop at the edge of the water and Tyler places their son on the sand, rolling up the pajama pants up to Declan’s knees before taking his hand and leading him into the water. 

“What the hell, Kyle?” she turns back to her brother. “Tyler’s been sober for six months. Half a year. And you bring this...” she gestures towards all the empties. “...here? Around a recovering alcoholic?” 

“He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you babysitting him.” 

“This isn’t about babysitting him. This is about how he still struggles with it and how, of all the things I want him to keep, his sobriety is at the top of the list. Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?” 

“That’s rich coming from you, kid. Seeing as you single handily tried to destroy my whole life last night.” 

“That’s not what I was trying to do and you know it.” 

“No. You just wanted revenge. On Nik. And you didn’t care if I got hurt in the process. Look, I get it. She tried to wreck your marriage. But you guys have nearly wrecked it yourselves a few times. You guys have always been a fucking mess. Right from day one. I mean, look at how things started between you two. Are you trying to tell me that’s normal?” 

“I never said it was. I’ve never denied how screwed up it was. But we built on that. Or we’ve tried to, at least. We aren’t perfect but we work hard at things. We bust our asses and make things work when sometimes it would be easier to just walk away. So don’t come to my house and talk shit about my marriage when six months ago all you cared about was finding something warm to stick your dick in.” 

“Mommy,” Tanner appears in the doorway. “We’re hungry.” 

“I’m coming, baby boy. Give me a minute, okay? You guys get your bowls and your spoons ready. Get Millie to climb up on the counter and get the toaster off the top of the fridge. She knows where the bread is, and she knows how to make toast.” 

“Okay,” he cheerfully agrees, and then rushes out and gives her legs a tight hug. “Love you, mommy. Uncle Kyle...” he looks at him, nose wrinkled in disgust. “...you stink.” 

Esme places a hand on the back of her son’s head and gently pushes him towards the door. “Go inside. Get things started. And tell your brother it’s his turn fill Mac’s food and water dishes.” 

“What if he gets mad about it and hits me?” 

“Hit him back. Hard. Don’t take his crap.” 

“Okay!” he chirps, and then rushes back into the house, hollering instructions at his siblings. 

“Can you at least clean this up?” she asks Kyle, nodding down at the mess of bottles. “I don’t want them seeing this when they come out here with their breakfast.” 

He nods in agreement. 

“I don’t have time for this, K. Not first thing in the morning. I have to run into town later and if you want to tag along, we could grab something to eat somewhere and talk. I think we need to talk.” 

“I think so too.” 

“You’re welcome to stay here. If things are that bad with you and Nik. But don’t ever shit talk my husband or my marriage again. You’re the last person I’d take relationship advice from. The fact you’d even hook up with a woman who tried to ruin my life makes me sick. That’s low, Kyle. That’s really low.” 

A loud smack followed by an “Owww! What the hell, Tanner?” breaks some of the tension. 

“Mommy said I could if you got lippy.” 

“I’ll kick your ass!” TJ rages. 

“I’d like to see you try!” 

“I’ll kick both your asses!” Millie hollers, and through the window that sits above the sink, Esme can see her daughter standing on the counter in her attempt to get the toaster, glaring down at her brothers. 

“Jesus...” Kyle laughs. “...is this every day?” 

“This is a tame morning, believe it or not. There’s usually some blood shed by now.” 

“Mommy!” Tanner hollers. “Addie’s awake and she’s crying! Lots!” 

“Hey!” Esme yells back, knocking on the window. “Tyler James! If you even think about punching your brother in the nuts, I will come in there and put the fear of God into you. What is wrong with you?!” 

“He hit me first!” 

“Because you gave me the finger when I told you that mommy said to put food and water in Mac’s dishes!” Tanner informs him. 

“Mommy, can we put them both up for adoption?” Millie inquires, as she puts the toaster down on the counter and jumps down. “Please? Because this is too much bullshit to put up with!” 

Kyle laughs even harder. “Need some help?” 

“This isn’t my first rodeo. But if I don’t get in there now, there will be a full out brawl between the three of them. And Millie will win. She can take both of them. At the same time.” 

He grins. “Tough like her mom.” 

“Oh no. She is all her father. Want some breakfast? I promise I’ll feed you more than cheerios and toast.” 

“I don’t know. Can you cook better than you make coffee?” 

“Tyler told you about my coffee, huh? What a dick. I better get in there. Before someone gets a black eye or a split lip or worse.” 

She leans down and presses a kiss to his cheek. then tousles his hair before heading into the house to tend to the pleas of help from her children.


	15. Chapter 15

The chime of the doorbell startles him awake; eyes snapping open, brain foggy and disoriented as it tries to figure out just what the noise was. The moment both the baby and Declan had started yawning and fussing, he’d laid down with them in the living room; Addie on his chest, Declan tucked securely between him and the back of the couch. He’s certain he’d drifted off before either of them had; a hand placed protectively on Addie’s back; an arm wrapped his son. Lulled to sleep by the warmth of their bodies and the sound of their soft, steady breathing. The house quiet and peaceful. The three oldest at school, Esme out with her brother, and nothing but the sound of the ocean and the cool, steady breeze that filters through the windows. 

The noise becomes more insistent, pausing momentarily before into one long, incessant tone. At first he reaches for his cell phone that rests on the coffee table, brain still attempting to straighten itself out and register exactly what the sound is, where it’s coming from, where he is, and even what day it is. He’d gone back on the Valium that morning as soon as the kids got on the bus, and it hit him almost immediately; making him drowsy and lightheaded, causing him to sweat profusely and develop a pounding headache. Now he feels as if his senses are impaired; sounds muffled as if he’s trying to hear underwater, his vision blurry. And in a near euphoric state he thinks about how he never even knew they had a doorbell; or at least he didn’t know what it sounded like. No one’s ever used it in the past six months that they’d been living there; delivery drivers and the postal carrier all resorting to knocking or leaving things on the chair by the front door; spurred on to do so by a handwritten letter Esme had taped to the mailbox that stated if anyone dared waked the baby or bothered her while feeding, there’d be ‘hell to pay’. 

It becomes apparent that whoever is at the door isn’t going away, and he attempts to slip off the couch without waking either of the kids. Declan the biggest obstacle with his sweaty body and damp hair pressed tightly against him. And he manages to slide his arm out from underneath the sleeping toddler, who only gives a loud, content sigh and rolls over, pressing his face into the cushions. Then he stands, placing Addie in the portable playpen in the middle of the room and using a foot to push the coffee table out of the way in case Declan rolls over and falls off the couch. The last he needs is having to haul two kids to the hospital for a concussion or stitches. Or both. 

As he heads for the door, he briefly considers grabbing some clothes and throwing them on; it would really set off the religious zealots that often travelled door to door if he was to answer in nothing but a pair of low slung boardshorts, body covered in a myriad of tattoos and scars. He’d already gone to the door once in the same fashion: a group startled and slightly scared little old ladies collecting things for a church food drive. But when he hears Addie begin to fuss, he decides against clothes, only caring about wanting to get the goddamn noise to stop. 

When he finally answers, the blond on the other side of the door opens her mouth to speak, then abruptly stops; clamping her lips shut as her eyes widen and she slowly looks him up and down. Normally he’d be self-conscious; that the once over is in nothing more than a mixture of shock and concern due to the number of scars that mar his body. He’d never given a shit before; until his brain decided to turn against him and try and make his life a living hell. But there’s no curiosity or concern regarding his battle wounds; this once over was one of admiration. And he can’t stop the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Who are you?” Tyler asks, checking the driveway for any unfamiliar cars, then glancing towards the woods and then down the road, checking to see if she was alone or if there was anyone lying in wait. 

It’s a hell of a way to live; thinking everyone is the enemy. But he’s stepped on a lot of toes and made a lot of enemies. And while you may physically leave the job, you’re never fully clear of it. Not until you die. Then and only then is your slate wiped clean. 

“Never mind that,” she replies. “Who are YOU? The pool boy?” 

He frowns. “What?” 

“Well dressed like that. Looking like...that. I just assumed that maybe...” 

“I live here,” Tyler informs her. 

“With Esme and the husband?” 

“I am the husband.” 

“You?” she gives a started laugh. “You’re the husband?” 

“For the last six and a half years.” 

“Okay...hold up,” she chews pensively on her bottom lip, head cocked to the side as she regards him. “You’re Esme’s husband?” 

“Am I not speaking English? I just said I was.” 

“She told me her husband is retired.” 

“Yeah? I am. And?” 

“So I’m sure you can understand why this...why you...are a bit of a surprise. I was expecting someone that actually looks retired. Someone a lot older. And someone not as...” she once more looks him over from head to toe. “...well, not so you.” 

“Look,” he rakes his fingers through his messy hair and scratches at the back of his head. “Not to sound like a total dick...” 

“Too late.” 

“...but who the hell are you? And why are you on my doorstep?” 

“I’m Salena.” 

“The new neighbor.” 

“The one and only,” she confirms, and holds out a hand. “And you’re Tyler.” 

He nods, hesitating at first, then shaking the hand offered to him. “Why are you here?” 

“I was hoping to see Esme. I come bearing gifts,” she holds up a reusable shopping bag. “I told her last night when we were texting that I made a killer Dorito taco salad that she needed to try and that I make some up. Enough for all of you. Is she home?” 

“She’s out with her brother.” 

“The cute firefighter,” she states. 

Tyler shrugs. “If you say he’s cute I’ll take your word for it, I guess.” 

“I had messaged her saying I was going to pop by, but I never heard back. So, I’d thought I’d just run over and see what’s up.” 

“I’m honestly so confused right now. I just woke up and my brain isn’t functioning properly yet. How you even know my wife?” 

“We’ve been hanging out. Since we met the other days when I was moving the last of my stuff. She was taking the two littlest ones for a walk and Declan saw my dog and got away from her...” 

“Wait. You know Declan too?” It was the one that he absolutely hated; Esme taking it upon herself to allow strangers around his kids. She’s too trusting; too quick to see the good in everyone yet not even stopping to look for the bad. He doesn’t trust anyone. Aside from her. And regardless of what she thinks of his reasonings or how paranoid she thinks he’s is, everyone is a possible threat. 

“He’s my absolute favorite. He’s just such a little charmer. That smile and those eyes? I can see where he gets them. The eyes. Not the smile because you haven’t cracked one once since you answered the door. You do smile right?” 

“Look, I had a rough night. I barely slept. You woke me up. I don’t even know what day it is right now, to be honest.” 

“It’s Friday,” she informs him. “I’m the one that watched Declan yesterday. So Esme could have some time to herself. Well she had the baby. I just thought maybe she needed a break. That’s a lot to handle. Five kids.” 

He tries hard to hide the anger that seeps into his voice. “You watched my kid?” 

Salena nods. 

“Yet I don’t even know who you are. You watched my kid, yet this is the first time we’ve met. And you’ve been hanging out with my wife?” 

“Yeah, you know. Lunch. Girl talk. Stuff like that. She didn’t tell you? It must have just slipped her mind. I know she has a lot going on. Do you know when she’ll be back?” 

Tyler shakes his head. 

“Is it okay if I wait here for her or...” 

He arches an eyebrow. “Here?” 

“Where else?” 

“I don’t usually let women into the house when my wife’s not home. That’s how rumors and shit start and I don’t need any more drama in my life. So I don’t think that’s a good idea. And I’m kinda busy with the little ones so...” 

“I could help,” Salena offers 

“I don’t need help. I’m not a rookie. And there’s nothing down there for you,” he informs her, when her eyes wander below his waist. “So if you could just...I don’t know...stop.” 

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. “Do you always walk around in no underwear?” 

“You always question what people do in their own house?” Tyler counters. 

“Touche.” 

“If you weren’t looking down there so much and so closely, you wouldn’t even know I wasn’t wearing any.” 

“Oh, I’d know,” she boldly responds. “That’s kind of hard not to notice.” 

“Is there a reason you’re here or...” 

“Like I said, I’m here to see Esme.” 

“And like I said, she’s not home. You’ll have to come back. Or call her. Or text. I dunno. But I’ve got little ones in the next room, so...” 

“Yes! Sorry! I won’t keep you any longer!” She offers the shopping bag and he reluctantly takes it. “I just...wow...you are definitely NOT what I was expecting. At all. Wow. Okay, I’m gonna go. If I don’t hear from Esme, will you let her know I came by?” 

“How am I going to know if you didn’t get in touch with her?” he asks, as he steps out onto the front porch, quickly checking the mail before once against surveying the road, and for any sign of remotely suspicious activity along the tree line. 

“That!” she points at him, as she walks backwards down the front walk, bumping into one of the recycling bins that sit at the curb, giving it an awkward apology and then giggling in embarrassment. “Is a very good point! I’m going to go now. I just...wow...totally not what I thought you were going to look like. And now I’m rambling and making a total fool out myself.” 

“Just a bit,” Tyler agrees. 

“Oh! She calls to him before he can step inside. “Weird question, I know. But did someone come to your door last night? Around two am? Because someone showed up at my place and knocked for like ten straight minutes.” 

“That would have been my very drunk brother in law. I think he was looking for a hook up.” 

“Well if that’s the case, tell him to come to the back door next time. I’ll answer for sure then.” 

Tyler just smirks and shakes his head, both amused and annoyed by her honesty, and then closes the door behind him. 

*** 

“Maybe we can try this again,” Kyle says, as they settle into a table on the Sovereign's outdoor patio. “Maybe we can make it through the meal without fighting.” 

“Technically we didn’t start fighting until after dinner,” Esme points out. 

“And technically you were the only one causing a scene, so...” 

“Fair enough,” she surrenders, and places her hobo style purse and her lone shopping back on the ground, cell phone on the tabletop. “This isn’t a set-up is it? I’m not going to get five minutes into lunch and Nik will show up?” 

“Nik’s gone.” 

Esme arches an eyebrow. 

“Not gone, gone. So don’t get your hopes up. She got a call last night. About a job in Venezuela. Needed to be there within a few hours or all hell was going to break loose.” 

“Nature of the beast. You get used to those phone calls, unfortunately.” 

“I thought maybe she’d slow down a little after we got engaged and started planning a wedding,” Kyle says. “I thought maybe that was enough to keep her busy and occupied, but...” he shrugs, and flips open his menu. 

“Nik doesn’t do the job because she needs to keep busy or occupied. She does the job because she IS the job. She’s always been hard core about it. Completely devoted. Not to mention, she’s the boss. It’s her own company. And she has a lot of people relying on her to keep things running smoothly and to keep them safe. It’s a lot of pressure. A lot of stress. I wouldn’t to do it. Run the show.” 

Kyle smirks. “Did you actually just pay Nik a compliment in some weird, back hand way?” 

“I have nothing against job Nik. I actually admire THAT Nik. It’s the other Nik I can't stand. The one that spent six and a half years trying to destroy my marriage. And...” she holds up her hand in a plea for silence when Kyle opens his mouth to speak. “...I know Tyler and I aren’t perfect. That things have never been conventional or normal between us. But that’s the way we are. And that doesn’t give her a right or a reason to try and bang my husband. So don’t even try to defend that.” 

“I agree that that part is a little messed up.” 

“You think?” Esme rummages through her purse for the bottle of recently purchased prescription meds. The doctor immediately writing out the order when she couldn’t get through the first thirty seconds of describing how she was feeling without bursting into tears. 

“So you get used to it?” Kyle asked. 

“What? Some trifling bitch trying to wreck your marriage?” She pops one of the pills into her mouth and swallows it down with ice water. “No. You don’t.” 

“Not that. The job. The phone calls. Them leaving at a moment’s notice. Now what you’re doing or talking about at the time. You do get it used to it, right?” 

“I don’t know if you get used to it. But you learn to tolerate it. I’ve had phone calls come in at some pretty inopportune times, let me tell you.” 

“How inopportune?” 

“Let’s just say, Nik and her phone calls are the epitome of cock blocking.” 

Kyle nearly spits a mouthful of water across the table. 

“Right?” Esme laughs. Talk about bad timing! But in Tyler’s defense, he did always finish the job at hand. So...” 

“Okay, that is too much information. I don’t think about you two...you know...finishing.” 

“Kyle, despite what you think, I’d have sex more than five times. I just don’t have it to procreate, you know. It happens to be a lot of fun.” 

“I do not what to think about those things when it comes to my little sister, okay? I know you’re a wife and a mother and all of that, but you’re still my kid sister. I still want to beat the hell out of any guy that touches you.” 

She laughs and sips her water. “I’d love to see you try.” 

“And totally get my ass handed to me? No thanks.” 

She grins. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit defeat.” 

“I’m not stupid,” he chuckles. “This is Tyler we’re talking about. I’ve heard about the shit he’s done. What he’s capable of. And he’s totally capable of killing me with his bare hands.” 

Esme nods in agreement. 

“Aren’t you scared? You know what he can do. You know the things he’s done. Aren’t you even a little bit afraid? Of him?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve never been afraid of him. Ever. And I’ve seen his temper at its worst. He’d never hurt me. Or the kids. I have no reason to be scared of him.” 

“But what if he snaps on day? What if everything that’s going on his brain just becomes too much and it gives way? What...” 

“Tyler would never...ever...do anything to hurt me. I’m not scared of him. I’ve never been scared of him. It’s the opposite, actually. He makes me feel safe. Protected. Because I know if anyone ever tries to get to me or the kids, he’s more than capable of stopping them. He’s not a monster, K.” 

“I never said he was. But that kind of job? Being a mercenary? And doing it as long as he did?” 

“Tyler was never the job. The job was just part of him. I’ve known a lot of mercenaries. A lot. Guys that allowed the job to totally take them over. To the point you didn’t even recognize them anymore. That’s that all they are. Callous, cold, calculated, violent. Extremely violent. And horrifically abusive. To everyone. Girlfriends, spouses, kids.” 

Kyle gives a small, almost sad smile. “Nik’s told me some stories.” 

“Tyler would kill himself before he ever hurt me or the kids. He’d put a bullet in his brain if he ever got like that. I’m not scared of him. I never have been. And don’t underestimate me. I could put him on his ass if I ever had to.” 

Her brother laughs at that. 

“He’d never do anything to us. That’s the last thing you need to worry about. He was never like those other guys. I guess that’s what really set him apart; what I found really intriguing about him. Out of all the mercenaries I’ve worked alongside of and knowing the stories that revolved around him, I expected him to be one of them. And he wasn’t. He was still human. And you may not see it because he’s stubborn and thinks he has to hide certain sides of himself, but he’s a good person, K. A good person who’s had to do some terrible things to stay alive. He’s a big man with an even bigger hurt. You just have to be fortunate enough to get to experience it.” 

“I see how he is with you. How he is with the rugrats. He adores those kids. And worships the ground you walk on. I mean, I think you’re an annoying bitch, but...” 

She smirks and directs a kick to his shin. 

“But I see how he is with you. You guys share a pretty profound bond, you know. You saved his life. Literally.” 

“I did what anyone would do,” Esme reasons. “You save people all the time.” 

“That’s my job.” 

“I wasn’t going to let him die there. And I definitely wasn’t going to let someone hold me back and expect me to just stand there and watch him die.” 

“Esme,” Kyle sighs. “Don’t bring Nik into this.” 

“She left him there. She didn’t even want anyone to get to him to help. What kind of person does that? He became expendable. The job was done, and she need him anymore. And she was willing to let me die on that bridge too. I know you love her, but least accept the truth on who she is and what she’s capable of.” 

A server comes to take their drink and food order, and Esme gives he a smile of appreciation and hands her the menu. 

“I saved Tyler because he deserved better than the end he was being given.” she says. “Because no matter how badly he thought he deserved death, he deserved a second chance more. You learn a lot about someone when you’re running for your life and trusting them to get keep you alive, believe me.” 

“And when you spend five days in a hotel room pretend to be married to them,” Kyle grins. 

“I’m not talking about what their favorite sexual positions are or how kinky they can be. And trust me, he can be extremely dirty.” 

Kyle grimaces. “I do not need to hear this.” 

“And regardless of what you or Nik think, it wasn’t just sex. Those five says. It’s not like we never spoke to each other. We talked. A lot. We told each other things we’d never told anyone else. So it wasn’t just physical connection, as amazing as that was. It was more than that. Way more. I wouldn’t have stuck around in Australia and spent months sleeping in a chair at the hospital if it wasn’t.” 

“And now here you are. Married, five kids.” 

She nods. 

“Honestly, I never expected this from you. Especially after Mark. After all the shit he put you through…" 

“Well sometimes someone comes along and shows you that not all men are the same. That not all love hurts. I was lucky. Not everyone gets that chance.” 

“I gotta hand it to you, kid. You’ve come a long way.” 

“I didn’t mean to cause issues between you and Nik,” she says. “Just so you know. That wasn’t my intention. But we’d give up that life. That’s why we left Colorado. To start fresh. And suddenly she just shows up? Asking for his help? Again? He’s shed enough blood for her. Tyler owes her nothing.” 

“It’s not she’s asking him to go back out there,” Kyle reasons. “She just needs his help. With Ovi.” 

“And don’t even get me started about that! Her encouraging this with Ovi. After everything that’s kid been through? For years we’ve struggled to get that kid healthy. Mentally healthy. And he gets some stupid ass idea in his head and instead of telling him how stupid it is, she encourages him! Recruits him. You must be able to see how screwed up that is.” 

“He’s not a kid anymore,” Kyle reasons. “He’s a grown man.” 

“He’s my kid. No matter how old he is. This is a horrible idea, K. Ovi deserves so much better than this. And something or someone has gotten into his head and poisoned him to the point he thinks this is a smart, viable option. Nothing good will come of this. Nothing. For Ovi. For Tyler.” 

“All Tyler has to do is train him. That’s it.” 

“And you think that’s enough?” she gives a dry laugh. “I’ll you what. You put in some of the leg work. Spend a couple of days when them ‘training’. It's not as simple and basic as you’re making it out to be. Try it. One day eve. And then see you how you feel about it.” 

“Maybe I will.” 

“Go ahead. I know you think you’re a total bad ass, bit you now idea what it all entails. No idea. But if you think it’s that easy, then come on over and Tyler will put you through the paces. You’re probably be crying for mom when it’s over. If you even last that long. You’ve been to the gym with him; you know how hard core goes.” 

Kyle nods. 

“Imagine that times...I don’t know...twenty. And that’s if he’s slacking. Don’t underestimate him. You can the take man out of the job, but you can’t take the job out of the man.” 

“You think he’ll go back?” Kyle asks. “That he’ll get the itch? That just training won’t be enough.” 

“I’ve told him that if he has to go...if Ovi gets into trouble and needs his help.... that’s fine. I’ll support him one hundred percent. But if he willingly goes for any other reason, we’re done. I’m done. I’m leaving and I’m taking kids with me. No looking back. I cut my loses and that’s that.” 

He frowns. “That seems a little harsh.” 

“I can’t do that life again. I just can’t. And I love him, but I love my kids more. And they deserve better than that life. They deserve a father that’s devoted to them and only them. And he can’t be if he goes back to the job. He just can’t.” 

“So you’d just take off and take his kids?” 

“I didn’t say he wouldn’t be able to see them. Because I’d never do that to him. Or them. But they need a stable, calm environment. And when he’s doing the job, our house is anything but stable and calm. It’s not what’s best for the kids. Not Tyler. Not me. Them.” 

“Well for his sake, I hope he does the right thing and doesn’t fuck up. That’d probably kill him losing his kids.” 

“Don’t put that on me, Kyle. It’s hard enough making that kind of decision, but adding that kind of guilt to it?” 

“That wasn’t what I was trying to do, and you know it. But you honestly go to that extreme? Taking his kids away from him?” 

“I wouldn’t be taking them away. They’d still see him. It’s about giving them a stable environment. And nothing is stable when it comes to the job. Because first the job comes about, then the drinking, then the fighting. You don’t know what it was really like, K. You only know half of what went on in our house.” 

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” he comments. “You guys got back together. After you split for those six months.” 

“Because he promised to get his shit together and said he wanted to work on things and make them better. And you know what? That lasted about eight months. And then it all started all over again. All because of the stupid goddamn job and because of Nik’s inability to leave him alone.” 

“Esme, we said we weren’t going to fight. And if you bring up Nik, that’s exactly what’s going to happen, and you know it. If you didn’t want me with her, why’d you even set me up with her in the first place?” 

“Because she was way too good to be stuck with Mark. No one deserved to be stuck with that asshole.” 

“So what? You used me to get her away from Mark? What...?” 

“I didn’t think anything would actually happen between you two,” she admits. “At least nothing serious. I thought you’d have your fun for a little bit and then move on. You’d never been interested in settling down before. I never thought you’d start thinking about it when you met her.” 

“That’s messed up. Using your own brother like that. Here I thought you did it because you wanted me to happy.” 

“Of course I want you to be happy. I just don’t want you to be happy with her.” 

Kyle gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. 

“You’re too good for her,” Esme informs him. 

“First, she’s too good for Mark, now I’m too good for her?” 

“You deserve someone...I don’t know...different. Someone who can devote themselves to you. Who isn’t so hung up on their career. Someone who’d be happy being a firefighter’s wife. And believe, there’s tons of girls like that out there.” 

“Maybe that’s not the type I want. Maybe I want someone who has more going for her. If you were that against this, why didn’t you say something before? Instead of waiting until four months before the wedding. A wedding which you...my own sister...hasn’t even committed to yet.” 

“Have you ever thought maybe I’m not comfortable being there? Kyle, she’s spent years trying to fuck up my marriage. And now I’m just supposed to be okay with hers?” 

“I’m your brother.” 

“Exactly. You are. Which means something should have told you marrying the woman spent six and a half years trying to fuck my husband wasn’t a good idea.” 

“Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought you’d grown up enough to let it go. She tried, he turned her down. End of story.” 

“So you’re okay with being married to someone with no morals?” 

“You’re okay with it,” he retorts. “You’re married to someone who killed people for a living.” 

Esme scowls. “That’s not the same thing and you know it.” 

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s even worse. You’re going to preach to me about morals when you’re married to hired killer? Who you were fucking three days after you met him. And you think you’re somehow morally superior?” 

“That’s low, Kyle. Nik has enough blood on her hands herself. Including Tyler’s.” 

“And you’re still holding onto that. It’s been almost what? Seven years? Since Dhaka? And you’re still holding onto that?” 

“Oh I’m sorry,” she scoffs. “You watch someone you love get shot in the throat. You have them bleed out all over you. You stick your fingers in their neck to try and keep them alive. And then you tell me how easy it is to get over.” 

The server arrives with their food, breaking the tension that has fallen on the table. And Esme takes a sip of her water in a vain attempt to wash down the lump of emotion that now sits firmly on their throat. 

“You have no idea what was like,” she scowls, as she uses her fork to stab at the salad on her plate. “Seeing what I saw. Doing what I did. You have no clue, Kyle. And you have no right downplaying it and telling me to just ‘get over it’.” 

“It’s been almost seven years,” he gently reminds her. 

“And sometimes it feels like it’s only been seven days. So until you’re in that kind of situation...and I hope you never are...you need to keep your advice and your opinions to yourself. If you want to marry Nik, go ahead. But I won’t be there. None of us well. I love you. But I don’t agree with what you’re doing. If it were anyone but here, I’d be there. But after what she’s done...after she was going to leave us there...I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy for you. Because I’m not. I know what she’s like and I know what your life is going to be like. You’re going to spend it being second to the job. And you deserve so much better than that.” 

“So do you,” Kyle says. “But you stick around.” 

“Don’t ever compare Tyler to her. Because you know that’s complete and utter bullshit. He is nothing like her.” 

“You keep telling yourself that, Esme. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.” 

“Don’t even put the two together in a sentence. If you want to marry her and never have a normal marriage or kids of a stable life, go ahead. But I’m not supporting that bullshit.: 

Kyle sighs heavily. “You’re even more stubborn than I remember.” 

“I’m not stubborn. I’m just sick of peoples’ shit. Hers. Yours. Why couldn’t she just leave us alone? We were happy. Things were great. And now all of the drama is back again. And I’m had it up to my eyeballs in Nik drama.” 

She sighs heavily when her phone vibrates against the table, then grins when she checks the text message. 

“Apparently you’ve made an impression on my neighbor,” she says. 

“Salena?” 

Esme nods. “I guess she stopped by the house and Tyler told her you showed up at her place last night looking for a piece of ass. And she actually believed him. Now she wants me to give you her cell and her home number. You know shit is getting real when someone gives up their home number. Do you want them or...?” 

“I’m engaged,” he reminds her. “I’m getting married in four months.” 

“That means you have four months to change your mind.” 

“Esme...” 

“Don’t be so difficult,” she snags his cell from where it sits next to his plate and proceeds to add Salena’s name, info, and numbers into his contacts. “Trust me. You’ll thank me for this.” 

He somehow doubts that.


	16. Chapter 16

After their naps and lunch, Tyler takes the two littlest down to the water; settling down at the edge with a life jacket clad Declan next to him, the toddler crouching down to dig and play in the wet sand. He holds Addie along his forearm, the back of her head resting in his palm, his other hand cupping water and allowing it to the drop through his fingers and onto her tiny body. Starting at the top of her feet and slowly moving all the way to the top of her head; her eyes widening and her toes curling at the texture and the temperature, yet never uttering even the smallest of cries. He remembers doing the same with Millie; taking her to the beach as often as possible, slowly and patiently working at getting her used to the water. It had been a big part of his life growing up; the happiest times of his often painful and traumatizing childhood had all happened near or in the water. Spending hours there with his mother. She’d been the one who had taught how to swim and had recruited a neighbor to give him surfing lessons. 

It’s where he’s always felt grounded. Relaxed by the feel of the water against his body, the sound of the waves, the smell of salt that lingers in the air. And sharing it with his children is of dire importance; that they have good memories of their father. Not ones of him leaving in the middle of the night and not returning for days and often weeks on end. Not of him coming back through the front door with stitches and bruises marring his face, broken bones set in casts, arms in slings. They are all just babies still. Way too young to be burdened with memories of THAT life. Once they’d moved, he’d decided to devote himself to being the best father he can possibly be; one that spends time with them, who doesn’t miss birthdays, who isn’t too hung over to get up and make breakfast for them in the morning. All mistakes that he’s already made and will regret for the rest of his life. 

Much like her big sister, Addie shows no fear of the water. There’s no flinching or grimacing or fussing; even when he cups a handful of it in his palms and lets it trickle down onto the top of her head. Millie had been the same. Fearless. And still is almost six years later. Always willing to try new things, spending her entire day in and out of the water if you’d let her. The twins had been apprehensive; living in Colorado all their lives, they’d never been exposed to the ocean, and it had been overwhelming and scary for both. But they’d battled through it; both decent, strong swimmers that now shared their father’s passion for surfing. Declan prefers to say on the sidelines; happy to just sit in the surf while watching his siblings. 

The introduction to the new neighbor is still playing in his mind; the awkward yet rather amusing way she rambled when embarrassed, her blatant honesty, the way she hadn’t been the least bit shy when it came to checking him out and making comments about what she saw. He’s not sure if he finds her charming or annoying. If he wouldn’t mind her coming by on a regular basis or if he’d try and avoid her as much as possible. Meeting new people isn’t easy for him; he’d spent decades constantly looking over his shoulder, viewing everyone around him as a potential threat. His suspiciousness and leeriness of strangers became even more intense when became a father again, and then reaching its peak when Michael McMann had come alone and put his family in danger. It’s why living somewhere fairly remote had been so important; he’s able to control who comes around the people he loves. He doesn’t always have to be so guarded. He could let the kids out onto the beach to play –within eyesight- and not worry that someone was out there lurking around, waiting for a chance to grab one of them. He craves the privacy that comes hand in hand with where they’ve chosen to settle down; more relaxed with the sense of security being here has brought him. 

Which is why he hadn’t been the exactly thrilled to hear that his wife had been so welcoming to the new neighbor. That she’d not only befriended her so quickly but had taken his two youngest over to the woman’s house. Had entrusted her –a stranger- with Declan’s care. It had unnerved and angered him. That she’d be that careless with not only her own safety, but with the safety of his children as well. For someone that had been in the job herself, she is far too trusting. Always seeing the side of everyone without even considering their bad side. She’d called him paranoid; accuse of him being overprotective and making her feel as if he wanted to keep her a prisoner in her own home. It isn’t his intention. Yes, he’s protective. He’s the first one to admit to that. But given some of the things that have happened to them –to her- in the past six and a half years, he feels he has a reason to be. He’d come close to losing her. Twice. Three times if he counted their six-month separation. And there’s no way in hell he’s letting that happen again; no way he ever lets a stranger get close enough to hurt her. 

Even now he’s on edge. Occasionally glancing each way down the beach. The bend around the woods in one direction, the expanse of near white sand in the other; near indiscernible outlines of other that live on the road enjoying their own private sections of beach. Even looking over his shoulder towards the house; almost expecting to see someone watching him from the back patio or creeping up behind him. The latter fills him with panic; strong and choking. And he briefly closes his eyes in an attempt to chase it away. Logically he knows it’s unhealthy, living like this. But logic is a rarity these days. 

He places his other forearm under Addie, one hand over the other as he slowly lowers her into the water; until it just reaches the outer edge of her ears. She’s calm. Content. Not a fear in the world. Those dark eyes rivetted on his blue ones; nothing but pure and utter trust and faith in him. It’s as if...even at that young of an age...she knows that nothing will ever happen to her if he’s around. That there’s nothing he won’t do to keep her safe. 

Declan settles down beside him, tucking the little –yet remarkably solid- body tightly into his side, a sand covered thumb stuck in his mouth. 

“That’s just gross, mate,” he little nudges the toddler with his elbow. “I know us guys do some gross shit, but I have to draw the line somewhere.” 

“Shit,” Declan echoes, and reluctantly removes the thumb from his mouth in favor of curling both arms around Tyler’s bicep. 

He’s always been the affectionate one; a constant need to be physically close to either his mother or father. It’s comforting to him; the feel of their skin or even their hair against him, giving him a sense of calm and security. Even when he was a baby he’d had ‘wandering hands’, constantly touching their face or holding a piece of their clothing while taking a bottle or being rocked to sleep. Deeply sensitive and intuitive for someone so young. Much like Tanner; an old soul stuck in a tiny body. Their father’s looks but their mother’s personality. 

Tyler stretches both legs out in front of him; grimacing at the sharp, sudden pain that comes from both the right knee and hip. The latter is new; most likely from falling asleep on it or pulling something while working out. And he lays Addie along his thighs; one hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, the other coming to rest on to side of Declan’s head as he presses a kiss to his hair. 

“Tired?” 

“’ungry,” Declan replies. 

“Hungry?” Tyler grins. “Again? You just ate.” 

Declan shrugs. “’ungry,” he repeats. 

“Me too. Wanna go home? Get something to eat?” 

The toddler nods, then gives a loud yawn before scrambling to his feet. “Stanny!” he suddenly announces, and then points down the beach. 

“Who’s Stanny?” 

“Daddy...look...” Declan grabs a handful of Tyler’s hair. “Stanny!” 

He glances towards whatever has captured his son’s attention; a tan and black pug running towards them, the frazzled neighbor in hot pursuit. And he grabs a hold of the back of Declan’s shorts before he can bolt, easily and effectively keeping the kind in place. 

“You don’t do that,” he scolds his son, tone harsher than it needs to be. “You don’t run of off that like that. Ever.” He’s agitated. Annoyed. Even pissed off. For six months he’s enjoyed the privacy their stretch of land has providing, liking the anonymity that relative seclusion has given him. Now twice in less than two hours someone has had the nerve to invade his ‘happy place’ as his wife calls it. And not just someone. The same someone. 

“Is there a part of ‘private beach’ you don’t understand?” he inquires, as Salena finally reaches them, crouching down in the sand to allow Declan to climb all over her; hugging and kissing her before he settles down to play with the pug as it rolls around in the sand. 

“Well maybe Mac is smart enough to read, but Stanny isn’t,” she retorts. 

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but they make these things called leashes. I could buy you one if you need me to.” 

“Mac isn’t always on leash,” Salena points out. 

“Mac doesn’t leave our property, so....” 

“Are you always this grumpy?” she inquires. “Were you born this way or...” 

“It’s a gift. You know, for six months I’ve haven’t seen anyone other than my own family. I kind of like it that way. Now I’ve seen you twice. In the same day.” 

“You’re anti-social.” 

“You can put it that way if you want. I like my privacy.” 

“Esme told me you get this like this,” she says. “Intense.” 

“Yeah? Well Esme needs to learn to keep her mouth shut. She’s a little too...” 

“Talkative.” 

He shakes his head. “Trusting.” 

“And that’s a problem because....” 

“I don’t trust anyone.” 

“Sounds like you’re the one with the problem. Not her.” 

Tyler smirks. “If you lived the life I had, you wouldn't trust anyone either.” 

She arches an eyebrow and cocks her head to the side. “What kind of life is that?” 

“The kind that’s none of your business. Really?” he asks, sighing heavily and rolling his eyes when she sits down beside him. “Am I giving off some kind of vibe that says: ‘make yourself comfortable’? Do I seem like I’m interested in making friends?” 

“No,” Salena admits. “But maybe you need one.” 

“Unlike my wife, I don’t feel the need to have contact with people outside of my family.” 

“That sounds unhealthy.” 

“What’s unhealthy is the things I’m thinking towards you right now.” 

She grins. “Dirty things?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself. Ragey things. Violent things. Has anyone ever told you they want to drown you before? Because that’s what I want to do to you right now.” 

“You know what I’m most curious about when it comes to you? How someone like Esme ends up with someone like you. She’s so...I don’t know...her. And you’re so...you.” 

“You were checking me out below the waist earlier. There's your answer. My secret when it comes to keeping her around.” 

It’s Salena’s turn to smirk. “I think you can be pretty charming when you want to be. When you let yourself be. What kind of job did you have before? Is that what made you like this? So... I don’t know...bitchy.” 

“People make me bitchy,” Tyler informs her. “People like you.” 

“All the scars,” she comments, as her hand reaches out to rest on his shoulder; fingertips tracing the thin, slightly puckered line that runs from the base of his neck to the top of his right shoulder. “Whatever you did before must have been pretty hard core.” 

He yanks his arm away, annoyed by her touch. “I was in the army. SASR.” 

“Special Air Services Regiment. That’s impressive. You served overseas?” 

“A handful of times.” 

“What did you do after that? How’d you meet Esme?” 

“Why are asking me all of this? Why is it so important to you?” 

She shrugs. “Curiosity.” 

“We worked together. The people we were both working for at the time put us together on a job.” 

“Who were these people?” 

“None of our business.” 

“Why so secretive? Was it THAT bad? So awful that neither of you will talk about it?” 

“We left that life behind. We don’t talk about it because it didn’t exactly end well. So we put it in the past and moved on. And that’s where we want it to stay. In the past.” 

“Was it illegal?” 

He scowls. “What did I just say?” 

“I’ll get it out of you eventually. Once we become friends too.” 

Tyler snorts. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

“You’re used to getting your own way, aren’t you,” she states. 

“I’m used to people minding their own business and leaving me alone. There’s six people in this world I want around me. You’re not on the list.” 

“Not yet,” she sing songs. 

Tyler rolls his eyes. 

“Opposites really do attract, I guess. You and Esme are just so different. She’s very cute and sweet and friendly and...” 

“You don’t know her that well. You think you know everything there is to know about her in just a few days? There’s way more to her than that, trust me.” 

“...and you’re so...you. You must balance each other out in some way. I’m still trying to figure out how.” 

“Well don’t strain yourself too hard.” 

She smirks. “You CAN be a real dick.” 

“It’s my specialty. Along with scaring people away.” 

“You’re not THAT scary. Okay,” she laughs, when he stares at her pointedly. “Maybe you are. Although I think intimidating is a better word to describe you. You intimidate people. You’ve got this intense way about you and you’re freakishly tall and you’ve got all the muscles and the tattoos and the scars and the huge arms. Can I touch them?” 

He laughs. “What?” 

“Your arms. Can I touch them? I’ve never seen arms like that.” 

“Yeah...no....you can’t. That’s just weird as fuck.” 

“What about your back? Can I touch that?” 

He frowns. “What is wrong with you?” 

“You’ve never had anyone to ask you to flex so they can touch your back or your arms?” 

“I’m not in the habit of letting women touch me. Especially weird ones.” 

“Because your wife wouldn’t like it? Because she’d get jealous?” 

“Because I respect her. Why would I let other women touch me? I’m married. Happily.” 

“So then why do you look like that? Why do you work so hard to get a body like that?” 

“Because I can. Because I want to. And because my wife likes it. You know, the one woman who’s allowed to touch me. As much as she wants.” 

Salena grins. “Intense AND loyal.” 

“I’m faithful,” Tyler corrects her. “So if you’ve got something going on in that head of yours, you need to get it out of there. Because it’s never going to happen. I don’t cheat.” 

“Ever?” 

“Ever. And what the fuck is with all the weird questions?” 

“You’re the one answering them,” Salena points out. “You haven’t told me to fuck off. Yet.” 

“I’m getting there. Any minute now.” 

“’ungry,” Declan announces, and plops down into the sand, a pout on his face. 

“I gotta feed him before he goes into a Hulk rage,” Tyler says. “I’d say it was nice talking to you, but...” 

“You’re warming up to me,” she says. “Admit it.” 

“Yeah, no. Sorry,” he smirks, as he tucks Addie into his chest, hand supporting the back of her head as he stands up. 

“You’re a tough nut to crack, Tyler Rake,” she calls after him. 

“You get used to it,” he says, then takes Declan by the hand and leads him towards the house. 

**** 

He’s in the kitchen when she arrives home; standing at the sink in just a pair of well-worn and tattered jeans that sit low on his hips, hair damp and messy, a slight sunburn noticeable across his shoulders and the back of his neck. Tending to the dirty dishes in the sink and making up a dozen baby bottles to store in the fridge. It’s a far cry from the man he used to be. The one who’d taken out nearly an entire apartment full of hostiles in Dhaka with his bare hands. Yet it’s phenomenally attractive; the domestic side of him. To see someone that big and that strong tending to the more simple and mundane things of everyday life. He enjoys the simplicity of it all because it is far removed from the life he used to live. 

“Hey,” she greets, as she places her purse on one of the barstools in front of the island and two shopping ones –one brown paper- on top of the counter. “You’re busy, busy,” she says, as she lays a hand on the small of his back, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down to kiss her. “No rest for the weary, huh? Where’s Declan and the baby?” 

“Both asleep. Second nap of the day.” 

“Wow, you really do have some skills. Getting them to a second nap already? Normally he’s still fighting the first one when I’m home alone with him.” 

“I use threats.” 

“And by threats you mean you bribe him,” she grins, and carries the paper bag to the fridge. “The market was extra good today,” she says, as she begins unloading her purchases. “I bought all kinds of goodies.” 

“That better not be kale. Because if you start feeding me that shit again...” 

“It’s good for you,” she informs him. 

“It tastes like grass clippings and the tears of baby animals.” 

“Well lucky for you, I can’t stand the taste of either. It’s spinach. To make salads with. You wrote it on the list. For your smoothies. What’s this?” she pulls out an unfamiliar plastic container and peers under the lid. “Have you been experimenting in the kitchen again, or...” 

“I dunno. Something the neighbor brought over. She’s really annoying by the way.” 

“You think everyone is annoying. Including me sometimes. Mmm. Taco salad. We can have it with supper tonight. I thought maybe we could try and patch things up Ovi before you start busting his ass. Maybe you can come some stuff on the barbecue?” 

“Whatever you want, baby. You’re the boss.” 

“You’re finally admitting that after six and a half years?” she teases, and then pops open the lid on the plastic container and grabs a spoon from the silverware drawer. “You want to try some?” 

Tyler frowns. “You’re actually going to eat that?” 

“Well it’s not just to look at,” she laughs, then scoops up some of the salad. “By the way, the doctor sent something home for you.” 

“Viagra?” 

“Please. As if you need Viagra. You can get it up if there’s a stiff breeze in the room. I made him write you a note. Saying that it’s perfectly okay for us to go back to regular activities.” 

He grins. “Regular activities as in...” 

“Yes, as in that. He says there’s no rule that says we have to wait that long. That a lot of couples go right back to having sex as soon as they feel comfortable. He just said that we have to be careful because there’s higher risk for things like uterine infections and all that. So you can erase that memo on your phone. The one that’s counting down the days until your dry spell is over.” 

“I’m not doing anything until I see the note.” 

“He even put it in an envelope with your name on it. Just like he did when you were the only one who wanted to know if Addie was going to be a boy or a girl,” she journeys over to where her purse sits, digging through it until she finds the item in question, then joins him at the sink and holds it out to him. “So there you go. No more solo studying for you.” 

“I was kind of enjoying all the blowjobs,” Tyler grins. 

“Well it doesn’t mean we have to stop those. Just that we can do other things now too. The things we enjoy the most. So...” she pops some of the salad on her spoon into her mouth. “Oh my God. So good. You have to try some.” 

“I don’t want to try it,” he says, and tears into the envelope. 

“You’ll like it. I’ve been feeding your ass for six and a half years. I think I know if you’ll like something. “ 

He frowns and looks down at the food being offered to him. 

“When did you get so picky? You’re in a bulk and when you’re in a bulk, you eat everything. “ 

“I don’t know what’s in it.” 

“Hamburger meat, cheese, onions, tomatoes, taco seasoning, pieces of crushed up Doritos. What’s not to like?” 

“It’s not that I won’t like it. It’s that I don’t know what’s in it.” 

“Tyler,” she sighs. “Our new neighbor is not trying to poison you. Get a grip. I just had some and I feel fine. Humor me, please.” 

He finally relents, then nods in approval. 

“You need to stop being so paranoid,” she points the spoon at him, then drops it into the sink and returns the container to the fridge. Why would she try to kill you? She’s harmless.” 

“Jeffery Dahmer probably seemed harmless at first too.” 

“I highly doubt she’s a cannibalistic serial killer. Not everyone is a threat, regardless of what you think. I thought you were getting better about that. Your fear of strangers.” 

“First, it’s not a fear. I’m not afraid of anyone and you know that. Second, when did you become so trusting of them? You did the job too. You know you can’t trust anyone. That you have to see everyone as a possible threat.” 

“Well I’m not on the job anymore. And neither are you. It’s time to let that go. This thinking everyone is up to no good and out to get you. It’s not healthy and you know it. Arre you taking your meds?” 

“Yes!” he snaps. “Why is that your go to for everything? Why do you automatically get on my ass about taking my meds? I’m not a fucking child.” 

“I never said you were a child. But I know what you’re like. How you go on and off of them all the damn time. And I know what you get like when you don’t take them. You don’t need to jump down my throat at the stupidest shit. If you can’t handle being alone with two of them at once...” 

“That’s not fucking it. When have I ever had a hard time being alone with two at once? I’ve been alone with all five of them and never had any issues. I’m not a rookie that doesn’t know what they’re doing.” 

“Okay, I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass, but what the hell Tyler? If you didn’t want me going out with my brother, why didn’t you just say something. If you wanted to be the one that went with me to the doctor, you didn’t you just tell me that and Kyle would have stayed with Declan and Addie.” 

“I don’t give a shit about any of that,” he snarls. 

“So then what the fuck? You were fine when I left the house. You were even fine when I walked in here ten minutes ago. Now you’re like this? What the hell?” 

“How do you even know that Sabrina or Sally or whatever the fuck her name is?” 

“Her name is Salena. She’s our neighbor. And she happens to be a very nice person.” 

“So all of a sudden we’re making friends with the neighbors?” 

“Yes, Tyler. Because that’s what people do. They make friends. At least that's what normal people do. We are not getting into this. We are not having this argument again. We’ve had this argument at least once a month since we moved here. You don’t like me being friends with other moms at the school, you don’t like me hanging out with the girls I met in the toddler playgroup, you didn’t like me going into town to meet with other moms at that mom’s social thing at the community center. Enough.” 

“You don’t even know her,” he attempts to reason, as she snags a bottle of water from the fridge. “Yet you just go over there and hang like you’ve been friends with her forever?” 

“How else do I get to know people? Or is that the problem? You don’t want me getting to know people. You just want me all to yourself for some goddamn reason. Like you think I’m going to meet people and suddenly forget I’m a wife and a mother and want to be single again.” 

“That’s not what I think.” 

“People have friends Tyler. Maybe you don’t. And I don’t get on your ass about that. You like being alone. You like it when it’s just us and the kids. And I get why you’re like that and I respect it and understand it and I don’t pressure you to get out of your comfort zone. I get why you are the way you are. But I’m not like you. No matter how hard you try to make me like you.” 

“I don’t try to make you like me. I don’t expect you to. But you’re taking my kids over there. My two littlest kids. My two most vulnerable. You even had her watch Declan. He was over there. Alone.” 

“What do you think is going to happen to them? What do you think she was going to do to him? She’s just a nice person.” 

“No one is that nice.” 

“In your experience. I’ve met tons of really nice people. I met tons of them when I used to volunteer at the school and go on field trips and got to be around the other moms. But I wasn’t allowed to be around them for too long, was I. Because you didn’t want me to be alone with anyone, yet you didn’t want to tag along and hang around with the other dads either.” 

“What the hell am I going to have in common with other dads?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Tyler. Maybe there’s another hired killer among them just waiting for you to come along.” 

His eyes narrow. “That’s fucking low and you know it.” 

“You’re right,” Esme admits. “That was. And I’m sorry. But I’m sick of this. I’m sick and tired of this same bullshit from you. Where you think it’s perfectly healthy and normal to keep me locked up like a goddamn prisoner in my own home.” 

“That is not what I’m trying to do.” 

“Look, I know you want to protect me. And I understand why you’re so hell bent on it. I know that everything with McMann has put you so on edge that even six months later you can’t let go of it. I get it. Especially considering what happened at his house and what he told you he would have done to me. I get that’s fucked you up. And I love you for wanting to keep me safe. But I’ve always felt safe with you. Always.” 

“I just want to protect you.” 

“But it’s an obsession with you. Can’t you see that? It’s not normal. It’s so far from normal. I’m not some package that you need to get safely to someone.” 

“I know that.” 

“Do you? Because it doesn’t seem that way. I’m not some fragile little thing that someone’s hired you to bring back to the. I’m your wife.” 

“Yeah, you are. And you’re mother of my children. And it’s not fucking okay that you took my kids over to a stranger’s house and put them in danger.” 

“In danger of what? What is going to happen to them? She’s harmless!” 

“You don’t know that!” he snarls. 

“I do know that. And if you sat down and thought about it logically instead of emotionally, your instincts would tell you the same thing.” 

“I’m going to be emotional!” Tyler argues. “Those are my fucking kids!” 

“They’re my kids too. Or do you conveniently forget that when you hear something you don’t like? You didn’t make those kids on your own and you sure as hell didn’t give birth to them.” 

He sighs heavily, nostrils flaring. “You know what, don’t get fucking mouthy with me. You took my kids and you intentionally put them in danger and...” 

“Oh no you don’t,” she furiously interjects. “You do not accuse me of being neglectful when it comes to OUR kids. That’s out of line and you know it. Because I would die for those kids in a heartbeat. No questions asked. And I’ve spent almost six years dedicating every waking moment to taking care of them. And I’ve given everything I have to you, too. And yet you have the fucking nerve to accuse me of intentionally putting OUR kids in harm's way? Fuck you, Tyler. I wasn’t the one taking off all the time and leaving those kids. I’ve made some mistakes, but don’t you dare stand there acting like you’re the perfect fucking parent. Because you’ve fucked up. A lot.” 

He nods in agreement. The truth hitting him hard. Her words stinging. And considerably knocking down the level and intensity of his anger. “You’re right,” he says, as leans back against the counter, arms crossed over chest. “I have.” 

“I’m the one that cleaned your messes up when it comes to those kids,” tears stream down her face. Hot. Angry. Hurt. “Every time you were away, and you missed a birthday. Every time you were too hungover to even get out of bed in the morning and have breakfast with them. Or when we were separated, and you were too drunk to even remember you had visitation with them. I’m the one that had to answer their questions when they wondered if you left because they were bad and if you didn’t want to see them because you hated them. You don’t know what that was like. Hearing Millie and the twins asking those things. Seeing how heartbroken they were because all the wanted was for you to come home yet you couldn’t even bother to clean yourself up to spend time with them.” 

Sighing once more, he crosses one ankle over the other; eyes riveted on the floor, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he struggles with his own emotions. It’s not a shock to hear those things; he knows the things he’s done and the mistakes he’s made. But to hear that his kids had asked those questions...that they thought he wasn’t around because they’d done something or because he hated them...hurts like no other pain he’s ever experienced. 

“How dare you come at me like that,” she continues, wiping frantically at the tears that stain her cheeks. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I made a friend. And I trusted her with Declan for a couple of hours. And if you trusted me at all...” 

“I do trust you. You’re one of the few people I do trust.” 

“...you wouldn’t accuse of doing something to hurt him. Because I would never hurt him. I would never hurt any of your kids. Because I love them, and I love you, and you guys are the best things that have ever happened to me. No...” she shoves his hands away when he reaches for her. “...don’t...don’t touch me...” 

He ignores her, wrapping both arms around her slender body and drawing her tightly against him. An arm circling her waist, a hand on the back of her head, holding it to his chest. 

“I’m a human being, Tyler. And I need to feel like one. I need to be more than just a wife and a mother. Because I don’t even know who I am anymore outside of those things. And that can’t be all there is to my life. No matter how much I love you and our kids. I don’t want that to be all there is.” 

“It’s okay,” he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“And I’m sorry. If the things I said hurt you. But you hurt me, and I lashed out and...” 

“I’m sorry, Esme. I didn’t mean to say the shit I did. I was just annoyed and pissed off and you’re always the one that has to pay the price. And I fucking hate that. That I do that to you.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to fight like this with you. We were doing so good and then this shit Ovi happened and Nik showed back up and it all just went to hell again. And I hate that. That we take all this shit on each other. Because it’s not fair. To either of us.” 

“No,” he agrees. “It’s not.” 

“I don’t want to fight with you. You’re the last person I want to fight with. We’re supposed to be in this together. Not letting shit come between us like this. We need to work harder. At not letting things get between us. Or we won’t make it. And I want to.” 

“So do I,” he says, and places both hands on the sides of her hands, thumbs clearing away her tears. “I love you. Even if I have a shitty way of showing it sometimes.” 

“I love you too.” 

He kisses her. Long and soft. Tasting the salt that lingers on her lips. 

“I need to go lie down. You can come too if you want. But I understand if you want to be alone. That was a lot to hear and you probably hate me for some of it.” 

“I could never hate you,” he assures her, and places his lips against her brow. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“Okay,” she gives a small smile before resting her forehead against his chest. 

He combs his fingers through her hair, allowing the soft tresses to slide between his fingers before she pulls away. “I’ll change,” he says. “I promise.” 

She just gives a small nod, attempting another smile before stepping away and leaving the room.


	17. Chapter 17

It’s not exactly the way he’d wanted things to go. 

Four months may as well have been four years; sexual frustration a very real and very powerful thing. Since he was fifteen, he’d never gone that long without it. There was always someone ready and willing to help put him out of his misery. High school girlfriends, girls that had been more than willing to play the role of ‘friend with benefits’ when he’d been single, an ex-wife (that had been given it more to other men than him, but that’s beside the point), Nik, women in different countries that were happy to see him when he was in town but didn’t expect more than just one night. He’s not proud of it. It just is what it is. He’d been younger then; not worried about anything else other than what his dick wanted. It hadn’t mattered if it lasted five minutes of five hours; the end result always the same, regardless of how long it took to get there. But when you’re actually in love the person you’re with, when your life takes on more meaning that just sharing a bed with someone, your outlook drastically changes. Or at least it should. 

Sex has always been a part of who they are. It’s how things started in the first place almost seven years ago. A profound and seemingly unstoppable sexual attraction that had let to the wildest five days of his entire life. It’s how the initial connection had been made; lust at first sight existing, love taking a hell of a lot longer to develop. The promise of something more had been there; in those middle of the night chats amid rumpled bedsheets and the tangle of sweaty limbs. The way he’d been able to open up to another human being so easily. The trust had come easily and effortlessly, and he’d embraced it instead of questioning it. He’d found himself sharing the deepest and darkest secrets that he’d kept buried for years. Not thinking twice about talking about his wife’s infidelities while he was stationed overseas or Austin’s battle with cancer or the cowardly act of choosing to leave while his only child was dying. He hadn’t hesitated when talking about the things that scared him or how painful his guilt and regret were. For the first time in a long time he’d even found himself smiling and laughing. Genuinely. Not in a forced, almost painful way. 

Those were thing he’d never experience before. With anyone. Not even his ex-wife. So it had been a good sign; he was still alive and not as broken and helpless as he believed. And on the fourth night he’d been anxious to keep the job done and see where life would take them. They’d made plans to travel for a couple of months; spend their time getting to know one another outside of sex. To see if there was something worthwhile to pursue. For the first time in years, he’d actually had a reason to live. His existence suddenly meant something. And mattered to someone. 

Love had taken a lot longer to discover. Maybe in a way, it had always been there; lingering just under the surface, Dhaka putting down the roots and a near death experience the start of the growing process. It’s a hell of thing to wake up from a coma and find a beautiful woman...the most beautiful he’d ever seen as far as he was concerned...sitting next to you. Even hopped up on a massive amount of pain meds he’d been relieved to see her; sleeping in a chair pulled up to the side of his bed, her forearms crossed over one another on the mattress, the side of her head resting on them, her face turned towards him. He’d felt the gentle weight of her head against him and it had been comforting. He’d woken up in a state of sheer terror and panic; not remembering what had happened, not knowing where the hell he was, not understanding where there were tubes and wires coming out of what seemed like every possible inch of his body. And the pain...it had been intense. Even with the morphine drip providing near constant relief and the fog that hung heavily over his brain and made his limbs feel heavy. 

But her being there had immediately calmed him. Feeling her head against the side of his thigh, how soft her hair was when he’d brushed his fingertips across it, the sound of her soft, rhythmic breathing. It had filled him with relief; he’d no recollection of anything that happened after Farhad had shot him. If she’d even managed to get OFF the bridge. Alive or dead. The mere touch of his fingertips to her hair had been enough to wake her, and she’s given him the most incredible smile he’d ever seen and had taken his hand and squeezed it impossibly tight for such a small thing. And then she’d teased him about ‘sleeping his life away’. 

You learn a lot about someone...and yourself for that matter...when they selflessly give everything up to stay by your side. When you see them fighting with doctors and therapists over unacceptable prognosis's and what they viewed as ‘bullshit, half assed care’. When you realize that there’s one person willing to fight for you, even when you want to give up. She’d kept him going on the most painful and exhausting of days; putting up with all the shit he’d put her through. The angry outbursts, the mean, hurtful words brought on by frustration and pain. You start to realize just how strong someone is when they tolerate crap like that and still stick by your side. She could have walked away. Dozens of time. And he wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. But every time he’d open his eyes in the morning, she’d be there, and he’d always be relieved and thankful that he at least got one more day with her. 

And then they’d found out about Millie. 

It hadn’t come as a total shock; they’d been reckless and nowhere near as careful as they should have been during those days in Dhaka. In fact, it would have come as even a bigger surprise if they hadn’t had least had a ‘scare’. She’d told him that she didn’t expect anything from him; of he didn’t want any part of it, she’d walk away and never contact him again. He’d been hurt. Angry. That she’d even think that little of him. Maybe he hadn’t given her a reason to think any different; in her mind, maybe those five days had meant nothing to him, and she was expendable. That a baby was nothing more than a lasting reminder of what happens when two broken and desperate people take solace in each other. But it had never been JUST that. There’d always been more. Something thriving under the surface. They just hadn’t been given the chance to figure out just what it was. 

Then one day he’d just looked at her and he knew; that he was in love with her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She’d been almost five months pregnant and he’d been allowed weekend visits home from the rehab facility; care he’d been receiving not just for his physical issues, but to help him kick the powerful addictions to pain meds and booze. They’d been sitting on the couch in their new apartment, watching a movie and eating ice cream right out of the carton and he’d looked over at her; her hair loose and falling around her face and down her back, wearing one of his t-shirts because she was already self-conscious about her steadily growing baby bump. And he’d leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek and laid a hand on her stomach, where their baby...HIS baby...was safe and thriving. It was the first time he’d ever told her that he loved her. Not just saying the words, but actually feeling them. 

That was almost six and a half years ago; Millie making her appearance four and a half months later. There are days it seems like sixty years ago, others where it feels like six. And through all the tough times and the bullshit that should have broken them, sex had been the one constant. The one thing they knew they couldn’t fuck up. Sometimes it’s nothing more than pure enjoyment; it feels amazing, they like doing it, and they love making each other feel good. Other times they use it as a band-aid of sorts; a temporary fix after a fight, or a way of apologizing for something hurtful that was said, or for being gone for so long on a job. 

It hadn’t been until they’d started seeing a therapist that he’d realized just how unhealthy it actually is. Before he’d never given it much though. If any. Sex was just part of who they were so why question something that makes you feel that good? Until it had been pointed out that it could actually destroy a marriage instead of making it stronger. It can’t be the only thing keeping your relationship together; the only thing connecting the two of you. 

Hence the guilt he feels now. He’d had every intention of just lying with her in bed, wrapping his arms around her and just being with her. Using words instead of sex to apologize for not only all the things he’d said during their fight, but all the ways he’d fucked up over the years. That had been the plan. Only she’d had other things in mind and had been hell bent on getting what she wanted. It had been four months after all; they’ve been given the greenlight and there was no reason to waste any time. Neither did he. But did it really have to happen THAT way? It should have been better. Longer. Not that kind of frantic and desperate fucking you resort to when the kids are napping. 

The therapist would tell him that these kinds of thoughts are ‘impressive progress’. He thinks they make him seem like a soft, pathetic little bitch. 

Esme stirs beside him, rolling from her stomach to her side, back towards him. Issuing a long, content sigh that makes him grin. 

He moves onto his side, wincing at the pain that creeps into his left shoulder. That’s always been the good one; the last thing he needs is it going as well. Not with having to train Ovi and the very real possibility of having to temporarily get back in the game if the kid fucks up. Pressing a kiss to the back of her head, he places a hand on her shoulder and allows it to drift down her arm; tips of his fingers gliding over the top of her wrist before entwining his fingers with hers and placing their joined hands against her stomach. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah...” she sighs again, even longer and more content. “...are you?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re not usually THAT quiet afterwards. You’ve become quite the master of pillow talk in your old age.” 

“I didn’t have anything to say. What did you want me to talk about?” 

She shrugs. “You could read the telephone book for all I care. As long as I get to listen to that voice.” 

Tyler chuckles. “So I’ve never actually had to say anything worthwhile? I’ve just had to talk? You’re just telling me this after almost seven years? You know how much effort and embarrassment I could have saved?” 

“What’s there to ever be embarrassed about? You should never be embarrassed about anything. Not with me” 

“I don’t exactly know how to say things properly sometimes. You know, serious things.” 

“You seriously underestimate yourself. You say a lot of serious and important things just fine.” 

He smiles, kissing her temple and then her shoulder before resting his cheek against hers. “Any pain?” he inquires and let's go of her hand in order to place his palm against her stomach. 

“A little,” she admits, and he frowns. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“Tyler, think about this for a second. It had been four months. It was going to hurt regardless. I don’t know if you’ve ever actually looked at your dick...” 

“A few times.” 

“Well, take your dick and what it looks like into consideration and you’ll understand exactly why it would hurt after THAT long. No matter how gentle you tried to be. And maybe pain isn’t the right word. More discomfort than actual pain. I’m fine. Stop worrying so much. You didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me.” 

“Maybe we should have waited," he suggests. “A couple more weeks at least.” 

“Believe it not, some couples have sex almost immediately after having a baby. Some don’t even wait three weeks like we did. And I know my body and what it can handle and what it’s capable of. So just relax. You were fine. Better than fine. Way better.” 

He grins and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “It just wasn’t the way I wanted things to go after four months.” 

“When did you become so serious about sex? You’re usually the one that’s ready and willing for anything.” 

“Shouldn’t the first after that long be...I don’t know...better?” 

“How much better did you want it? You didn’t enjoy it?” 

“Of course, I enjoyed it. That wasn’t obvious?” 

“So what's the issue?” 

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I was thinking about what the therapist said. About how sex can destroy things if we’re not careful. How it’s a bad thing if that’s the only connection people have.” 

“Okay...wait a second...” Esme rolls over to face him. “...you hate going to the therapist and you bitch and moan every time we do. And that’s the one thing you remember her saying?” 

“I remember other things. I do listen to her. Sometimes.” 

“And you happened to listen to her that day?” 

“We were talking about sex. And I’m a guy. We just hear the word and we automatically pay attention.” 

Her forehead rests against his; fingertips tracing the various scars that take up residence on his collarbone and chest. “And you think that’s the only connection we have?” 

“I never said that. Do YOU think that’s the only connection we have?” 

“Oh no,” she laughs. “You’re not turning it around. You brought it up, you can talk about it. I know how you work. You bring something up and then somehow, I end up being the one that does all the talking. You started this; you finish it.” 

“I didn't say that’s all we have. Just that sometimes maybe it feels that way.” 

“It’s always been a part of who we are though,” she reasons. 

“Which is kind of fucked in its own way, but okay.” 

“So...” she runs a run a nail over his Adam’s apple and around to the scar one the left side of his neck. Sometimes it still bothers her; seeing it and what it represents. Today a brief frown tugs at her lips and then disappears. “...you’d never want to have sex again.” 

“What?” It’s his turn to laugh. “That is nowhere near what I’m trying to say. I just worry, I guess. That maybe you feel that’s all we do. I mean, we have five kids. Isn’t that a sign that’s all we do?” 

“It’s sign that we love each other, and we wanted a big family.” 

He smirks. “And that we like to fuck.” 

“Well...yeah...” her knuckles brush along his jaw; liking the feel of his beard against her skin. “...is there something wrong with that? That we enjoy it? That we’d like to make each other feel good?” 

“Only if that’s all we do. You think that’s all we do?” 

“We just went four months without doing it,” Esme reminds him. 

“Because we had to.” 

“You want to wait another four months and see how you feel then?” 

“Fuck no. That is NOT what I want.” 

“Then what is the issue?” Her fingers move up his face; trailing over the scar that travels across the bridge of his nose, over the one near his left eyes, then up to the one that runs down his forehead. Even all these years later she’s fascinated by them; all those little imperfections that make him, him. “Sex is either the enemy or it’s not.” 

“Okay, I don’t think we’re looking at the same way. Were you sleeping during that therapy session? Because that's not what was said. Was I the only one actually paying attention? She said it was a bad thing if that’s all a couple have in common.” 

“You really think we’d still be married if that’s all we have in common? I think you’re reading way too much into what she said. We’re consenting adults. If we want to have sex, that’s fine. As long as it’s not the only thing that keeps us together. And it’s not. Far from it. As incredible as it is....” 

“Yeah...” he grins. “It’s pretty good.” 

“...there is more to us than that. I have to say though, I like this side of you. The Tyler that has these profound, serious moments. You aren’t just a pretty face and big muscles. You’ve got a lot going for you. Especially up there...” she kisses his forehead. “...I like that I get see these things. These different sides of you.” 

“Other than the one that’s a raging asshole and huge fuck up.” 

“Okay first of all,” she shoves him over onto his back, then kisses him as she straddles his waist, hands on chest. “I never said you were a huge fuck up. Because you’re not. You’ve fucked up. There’s a huge difference. You’ve made some mistakes. We both have.” 

“Your mistakes are nowhere near as epic as mine.” 

“I didn’t bring those things up to hurt you. I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt. You’re last person on earth I’d ever do that to. I just needed you to realize that things need to change. YOU need to change. Because I can’t live like that. Feeling controlled and suffocated. I just can’t.” 

“I never meant to make you feel that way. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. All I want is to protect you. That’s it.” 

“You’ve been protecting me for almost seven years without going overboard about it. I’ve always felt safe with you, Tyler. Even in Dhaka. And you were nowhere near as bad as you are now.” 

“Well we didn’t exactly have the connection we have now, so...” 

“I need you be more like THAT Tyler. And less insanely paranoid and overly protective Tyler. And...” she places a hand lightly over his mouth to prevent him from speaking. “...I understand why you are the way you are. A lot of things have happened since Dhaka. Things have really freaked you out. Especially the whole McMann thing. And I also know that a lot of it is your PTSD and your mental stuff fucking with your brain and making things seem so much worse than what they are.” 

“Can I talk now?” His voice is muffled against her palm. 

“Are you going to argue with me?” 

He shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to argue,” she says, as she removes her hand from his face. “We’ve done enough arguing for today. For a long time. I know couples argue, but...” 

“We kind of take it to the next level.” 

She nods. 

“I don’t want to argue,” he lays his hands on her thighs, running his palms along the smooth skin. “You’re the last person I want to fight with. No matter how good the making up is. And I’ll try. To be that other Tyler.” 

“I just need you to take it down a notch. A few notches, actually. You can protect me without being like that. You’ve always protected me. I’ve never felt like I was danger. Ever. You need to trust yourself. And your instincts. Stop letting your brain immediately react from an emotional standpoint and actually think about what’s happening and what you’re hearing.” 

“It’s hard not to be emotional when it’s something to do with you or the kids.” 

“And I get that. I do. But Tyler, the way you are? The way you get? That’s not good for me or the kids. Or you. So I need you to trust yourself and your instincts. I need you to rely on them. Like you relied on them in Dhaka. Things turned okay, didn’t they.” 

“If you think getting shot in the throat and nearly dying ‘okay’.” 

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the decisions you made. You did what you had to do and you got Ovi and I out of there. That’s why you don’t need to be the way you are now. I trusted that Tyler seven years ago. Way more than I trust this Tyler.” 

He frowns. 

“You’re taking that the wrong way. I trust you. With my life. With our children's lives. But when you get...I don’t know...unhinged...it’s scary. And I don’t want to be scared of you. Because you go off the deep end and you freak out and I don’t even know who you are when you’re like that.” 

“I don’t want to scare you. Ever. That’s the last thing I want.” 

“And that's why I need you to stay on your meds and I need you to start thinking rationally instead of emotionally and I need you to trust me. I would never, ever do anything to hurt our kids. In the same way I’d never do anything to hurt you. I spent years doing the job, remember? I spent years learning how to read people. Without them realizing I was doing it. Do you really think those skills just die off? That I can’t read the new neighbor? That I haven’t just sat back and watched her and listened to her? She’s harmless.” 

“It’s not the same as doing the job. These are my...our...kids that are involved.” 

“Which stands to reason that I’d be extra intense when reading Salena. You underestimate me, you know. You always have. I’m a lot smarter and a lot craftier than you think.” 

“I’d say sneakier, not craftier,” he teases. “And I’ve never underestimated you. Ever. I knew what you were capable of. As soon as you went off on me in Dhaka because you didn’t like me telling you what to do.” 

“Well in all fairness, I don’t like anyone telling me what do. And your rules were bullshit and I wasn’t afraid to tell you that. I wasn’t giving you a free ride because you were nice to look at it.” 

He smirks. “You have me a lot of free rides.” 

“Well played,” she laughs, and leans down to kiss him, then buries her face in between his neck and his shoulder. “You’re getting quick as you get older. Maybe I need to stop underestimating you.” 

“Like a fine wine,” he reasons, hands sliding under the bottom of the t-shirt she’d refused to remove –citing the distaste in her post baby appearance- and up her back. “Better with age.” 

“I’m going to agree with that. At this age, other guys are getting flabby and getting dad bods. I get a trophy husband. Total eye candy. Who am I to complain?” 

“You definitely were not complaining a half an hour ago,” he teases, and skims his knuckles down the length of her spine. 

She gives a small shriek, her entire body arching against him. “That drives me insane!” 

“In a good way.” 

“In a very good way,’ she giggles, then groans when her cell phone –charging on the next stand- springs to life. “That’s not good. That’s the ringtone for the school.” 

“It’s probably one of those automated calls they send out when they want parents to remember something.” 

“I doubt it. It’s been a good week. It only makes sense that it ends bad. That is definitely about your son.” 

“So now he’s just my son?” 

“You answer it. I do not want to deal with them.” 

“They’ll hang up if I answer. They don’t like me.” 

“It’s not that they don’t like you. They’re scared of you. The secretary is especially terrified of you. I’ve tried telling her to ignore your resting asshole face and to just enjoy the fact that you’re this nice tall, cool, glass of water but...” 

“I’ll try not be offended you didn’t say tequila or at least beer,” Tyler chides, and then dumps her onto her back and leans across her, reaching for the phone before it goes to voice mail. “You sure you want me to deal with this?” 

“It’s your turn. I’ve had enough bullshit for one day,” she tousles his hair, presses a kiss to his lips and then slides off the bed. “Good luck, honey,” she says, as she disappears into the ensuite bathroom. Then briefly pokes her head out to add, “And try not to kill someone, okay?” 

“Will you still love me if I do?” 

“Always,” she promises. 

**** 

Millie lingers in the front hallway of the school when he arrives; slowly sipping water from one of the many fountains situation throughout the building; TJ’s backpack and shoes on the ground beside her, eyes darting back and forth between what he knows is the office and the front entrance. And those eyes widen when they see him; no doubt expecting her mother to show up to handle things. She’s the more levelheaded one, after all. That parent less likely to raise their voice and spew profanities at the staff. 

“Daddy!” She rushes over, tossing her arms around his legs in a quick hug, then looking up at him. “Oh my God...” she breathes. “...it was so awesome” 

He scoops her up with one arm, pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her back down on the ground. “What was awesome?” 

“Tyler totally fucked them up!” 

He scowls. “Amelia...” 

“Sorry,” she gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. Messed them up. He was so mad, and they so deserved it and I don’t blame him one bit. They had it coming!” 

“There was more than one? I thought there was just one kid.” 

“Nope. There was three. Plus the kid who started it!” 

“Four kids?” 

She nods enthusiastically. “And he beat the shit...I mean crap...out of them. All of them. By himself.” 

“Out of all four of them?” 

“It was so freaking awesome. Everyone was cheering for him. EVERYONE. Even the grade eights! I’m so proud of him. He can fight! Not as good as me. But still!” 

“Amelia,” her teacher appears by the water fountain. “Back to class, please.” 

“I’m talking to my dad!” she exclaims. “Mind your own!” 

“Hey,” Tyler scolds. “Watch your mouth. What did I tell you? About that being your teacher and not to get mouthy with her?” 

“Ughhh,” Millie huffs. “She’s a pain in the ass!” 

“You know what’s a pain the ass?” 

“Bad language,” she sighs dramatically. “I know. But she is. You’re not going to get mad at him, are you daddy? Tyler did the right thing.” 

“You know, I’ll decide if he did or not. Go back to class. I’ll see you when I get home.” 

“You can’t take me home too?” 

“Go back to class,” he gently orders. 

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, and then saunters off, giving him a wave before disappearing around the corner with her teacher. 

The office staff is not happy to see him. It isn’t his first time going in there and raising hell; Millie had beaten the crap out of an older kid for looking up her dress while she was on the playground and the staff had been insistent on punishing her and not him. Ever since then, he’d been branded as ‘that parent’; the kind they view as confrontational and aggressive and probably have an entire file devoted to. After the Millie incident, they’d filed a report with Australia’s Child Protection Services saying he was aggressive and abusive and things at home ‘needed to be checked out’. Nothing came of that visit, and he’s been holding a grudge against the school ever since. 

“Where’s my kid?” He doesn’t even bother with pleasantries, and the secretary blinks; both in surprise that he’s shown up and not Esme, and at tone of his voice. He doesn’t fuck around, and they know it. And hate it. He isn’t the kind of parent they like to deal with; he isn’t submissive and agreeable and isn’t afraid to question their decisions or call them out on their bullshit. 

She nods at the row of chairs behind him, where is son sits with an ice pack on his face, a towel stained with drops of blood in his lap, and his knuckles bruised and swollen. And he crouches down in front of TJ, gently pulling the five-year old’s hand away from his face; frowning when he sees the damage is even worse than he’d though. A gash across the bridge of his nose, a split lip, likely some loose teeth, and the start of a black eyes. 

“Mate,” Tyler sighs heavily. “What the hell?” 

“I’m sorry,” tears immediately fill TJ’s eyes and his lower lip begins to tremble. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“We talked about this,” he uses the corner of the towel of clear blood from his son’s lips and chin. “You can’t keep doing this. Getting into fights.” 

“But I didn’t start it! He did.” 

“Who’s he?” 

“I don't know what his name he’s. He’s in grade four. He’s always picking on the little kids and that kids that are in wheelchairs and have special needs and stuff. And no one else stands up for them.” 

“So you did?” 

“Not today but I always do. He was picking on Tanner. And he made him cry. That’s my brother. You don’t on my brother and make him cry. So I got mad and I hit him. Hard. And then his stupid friends jump me. So I hit them too.” 

“And they obviously hit back.” 

“I don’t care about that. No one picks on my brother. Or kids that can’t stick up for themselves. Someone has to stick up for the good people. Someone has to make the bad people pay for being bad.” 

Tyler nods in agreement, then lowers his face so the secretary can’t hear him. “What do the other kids look like?” 

TJ gives a proud, confident grin. “Worse. A lot worse.” 

“Atta boy,” he tousles his son’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Millie’s got your stuff. Go to her class and grab it and then we’ll go home, yeah?” 

TJ nods, then wraps his arms around his father’s neck in a tight, appreciative hug before sliding off the chair and heading for the door. 

“Excuse me!” The secretary calls to him. “We’re not done with you, young man.” 

“Yeah, you are,” Tyler says, as he stands up and nods towards the hallway, giving TJ permission to leave. “You’re done with my kid. Not like you do much with him anyway. Where’s the principal? Hiding in his office shitting his pants because he knows I’m here?” 

“We don’t appreciate that kind of language here, Mister Rake,” she scolds. “So...” 

“You know what I don’t appreciate it? My kid being the only one in here getting in trouble despite the fact he was defending his brother. Where’s the little asshole that started all of this?” 

“You cannot call a child a little...a...a... what you just called him.” 

“An asshole? What I should I call him? A little prick? Is that better?” 

She frowns. 

“So my kid is the only one in shit even though the little prick that started it likes to bully smaller kids? Kids with disabilities? You actually allow that kind of crap to go on here?” 

“Your son broke four other kids’ noses and tried to choke one of them to death with his bare hands.” 

“He’s five. He hardly has the power to choke someone to death. I know how much power it takes, so....” 

The secretary’s eyes widen. “We need you to sign some things,” she says. “We were expecting your wife, but...” 

“My wife’s had it with your shit so she sent me. What’s this?” He nods down at the papers she slides in front of him. 

“Suspension papers. Four days.” 

“For what? Because he embarrassed four older kids?” 

“You son cannot go around beating up other children. That’s assault.” 

“He’s five.” 

“It’s still assault. And those parents could press charges. I’m sure they’ll forgo them in favor of an apology.” 

“They can kiss my ass. I hope they show up at my house looking for an apology. Give them my address. I’d like to remind them that my son is only five and still managed to beat the shit out of their kids. At the same time.” 

“Well I can certainly see where all of his hostility and temper issues come from,” she huffs. 

“I’m not signing shit until the other kids get the same treatment. Tell the principal I said that. And that if he has a problem with that, he can come and talk to me instead of hiding like a little bitch.” 

The office door pops open and TJ pokes his head. “Daddy? Can we go now?” 

“We are not done,” the secretary scowls. “With either of you.” 

Tyler just smirks, then slams the door closed behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

“Mommy is going to be really mad,” TJ laments from the backseat as they pull into the driveway. “Is that why she didn’t come and get me? Because she’s mad?” 

“She’s just tired,” Tyler assures him, as he kills the ignition. “She needs sleep. Having a baby is hard work. And your sister is only three weeks old. Still new.” 

“She’s going to be so pissed,” the five-year-old sounds as if he may cry. “She doesn’t like when I get in fights. When I’m bad at school.” 

“I think she’s going to understand why you go into this fight. Once you tell her everything and...” 

“I can’t tell her! That’ll just make things even worse. Can’t you just tell her I wasn’t feeling well and had to come home?” 

“I don’t think that’s going to work, mate. Have you seen your face?” 

“That’s going to make her even more mad!” he cries, and then promptly bursts into tears. 

Normally he’s the strong, stoic one; very rarely showing even the slightest hint of sadness. Even as a baby he rarely cried, not even for a wet diaper or out of hunger. At three he’d adopted the habit of cracking jokes –even at his own expense- when he felt the threat of tears coming on. Rage and frustration are his two main negative emotions; easily going from laughing and smiling to angry and intense. Possessing a hair trigger temper that’s bad enough on an adult, but extremely troubling and almost terrifying on a little kid. 

“She’s not going to be mad,” Tyler assures him. “She might be mad at the kids that messed you up but...” 

“I messed them up worse!” TJ snaps, as if offended anything other than victory had been suggested or expected. “Don’t forget that part! I handed them their asses!” 

“...but she isn’t going to be mad at you,” his father calmly continues. 

Snapping back or letting his own anger or frustration show will do nothing. Other than encourage the kid to escalate his own behavior. It had been a hard thing to learn; not to immediately react when TJ begins acting out. Handling it emotionally and letting his own temper take over just to makes things even worse. According to the therapist, anyway. 

“Redirect not escalate”, he can hear her say. “Kids like this need patience and understanding. Not judgement and punishment.” He’d thought it was bullshit at first. That not punishing bad behavior only encouraged it to get worse. It’s how he’d spent his own childhood, after all. Until it had been drilled into his head that there was nothing normal about the way he’d grown up and he needed to ‘break the cycle’. 

“You don’t know that!” TJ argues. “That mommy won’t be mad!” 

“I’ve known her longer than you have. I know her a bit better. I know what makes her mad and sets her off. I’m a master at pissing her off. And I know she won’t be mad at you. She's going to be a little sad when she sees what your face looks like.” 

“That’s even worse! I don’t want mommy to make mommy sad!” 

He cries even harder now. Arms folded across his chest, chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed; entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. If there’s one thing that he is sensitive about, it’s his mother. No one upsets his mother on his watch. And if they dare raise their voice to her or look at her with even the slightest bit of threat in their eyes, he’s the one jumping to her defense. Tanner fits the typical ‘mommy’s boy’ stereotype, but TJ will fuck someone up if they mess with her. 

Tyler kills the ignition and waits; giving his son a few minutes to get all the tears and emotions out. He knows better than to even attempt to offer any form of support or comfort, whether it be verbal or physical; the kid hates feeling as if someone is pitying him or seeing him as weak and it will only send him into a blind rage. So he gives TJ the chance to work things out on his own; occasionally glancing at him through the rearview mirror, holding off until the sobbing subsides and the five-year-old gives a long, shaky sigh and then uses the front of his t-shirt to wipe his face. 

“You good?” He asks. 

TJ nods. 

“You wanna go in? See mommy? Tell her what happened?” 

“You won’t leave, right? You’ll stay when I tell her?” 

“I’ll stay right with you. What do you think she’s going to do to you?” 

“Nothing. But I don’t want her to be sad. I hate when mommy’s sad. And she won’t be sad if you’re there.” 

He wants to tell him that he’s made mommy sad plenty of times. More than he likes to admit. That he’s made her cry too many times to count and regrets every single tear she’s shed because of him or over him. But he doesn’t; burdening kids with adult problems solves nothing. It only causes more issues. And they have enough of those to deal with. 

“Let’s clean you up a bit,” Tyler suggests, as he slides from behind and wheel and steps out, popping open the back door of the truck and reaching for TJ’s backpack. “You got clean clothes in here?” 

“I think so. Mommy always remembers to put some in.” 

“Good thing one of us has our shit together, yeah? Go in the garage,” he instructs, as he unbuckles the straps on the booster seat and then wraps one arm around his son’s slender body, helping him down to the ground. He’s tall for five; long and lanky, yet solid and strong. “I’ll clean you up in there. That way you look a bit better when mommy sees you.” 

“Okay,” TJ agrees, bare feet slapping against the cement of the driveway, stopping momentarily to scoop up that day’s newspaper that the delivery boy had tossed onto the grass, then throwing it at the front door. 

Sighing, Tyler closes the truck doors and sets the alarm before joining his son in the garage, peeling off the blood and dirt stained t-shirt and locating the cleanest part possible; wetting in at the sink in the corner and then using it to clear away the dried blood from TJ’s face. 

The kid never winces once; not even a single flicker or pain despite the often vigorous scrubbing or the fingertips that poke and prod as they investigate each injury. 

“Is it broken?” TJ asks, when his dad presses on the sides of his nose. 

“I don’t think so. I don’t think anything’s broken. Any missing teeth? Loose ones?” 

“None missing. But...” he pauses as he uses the tip of his tongue to press against each tooth. “A couple loose ones.” 

“They’re baby teeth. So they’ll just fall out and you won’t be gruesome toothless for long.” 

“Now that’s mean,” TJ giggles, then immediately grows serious. “Am I going to get arrested? Are the police going to come here?” 

“Why would the police come here?” 

“Because I beat those kids up. I heard what Mrs. Tucker said. About it being assault. That’s a bad thing, right? That’s what police come for. Bad things.” 

“You’re five. I think you’ll be able to escape an assault charge. And don’t listen to that stupid bitch.” 

TJ’s eyes widen. 

“And also don’t tell your mom I called her that.” 

“She is though,” TJ concludes. 

“A stupid bitch?” 

He giggles. “Yeah.” 

“The stupidest of bitches,” Tyler agrees, and then tosses the soiled shirt into the hamper before locating a clean one at the bottom of TJ’s school bag. “Feel better?” he asks, as he yanks the item of clothing over his son’s head. “Just a bit?” 

TJ nods. “You know what would make me feel even better, though?” 

Tyler arches an eyebrow. 

“Ice cream.” 

Grinning, he lays a hand on the back of his son’s head and gently pushes him towards the door. “Ice cream would make me feel a bit better too.” 

*** 

“So what was it today?” Esme inquires, as she stands at the kitchen island; body swaying from side to side as she holds Addie along her arm, free hand flipping through a stack of mail. Not even glancing up when they step into the room. “Desk tipping? Chair throwing? Calling the teacher a stupid fat cow?” 

“In his defense, I’m the one that actually called her that,” Tyler admits. “And it’s bit more than that.” He drops TJ’s school bag on one of the bar stools and then lays a hand on her hip and presses a kiss to her temple. “You might want to give me the baby.” 

“Why?” she gives a small, almost nervous laugh, a scowl creeping across her face she looks up at him and sees the seriousness on his face. “It can’t be THAT bad?” 

“Trust me on this,” he says, and she places the baby along his arm; Addie’s head nestling into the crook of his elbow. Carrying her across the kitchen and giving a Declan a kiss on the top of his head as he sits snacking in his highchair before tossing open the freezer and taking out the ice cream. 

“Mommy...” TJ begins, nervously rocking back and forth on his heels. “...don’t be mad.” 

“Why would I...” her eyes widen when she looks at him; taking in the various cuts and bruises that inhabit his face and then rushing to him, kneeling in front of him with one hand on his shoulder, the other gently cupping his cheek. “What happened? What the hell, Tyler?” 

“He got into a fight,” her husband responds, as he places Addie in her swing by the sliding door. “No big deal.” 

She frowns. “Not you. I wasn’t asking you.” 

“You need to actually specify which one of us you’re speaking to when we’re both in the same room,” he reminds her. “Or neither of us will answer because we have no clue who you’re talking to.” 

“I got into a fight,” TJ confirms, as she scoops him up and places him on the edge of the island. 

“It looks more like someone used you as a punching bag.” 

“He looks worse. Much worse. So do the other guys.” 

“There was more than one?” Her fingers cautiously survey the damage, the cut across the bridge of his nose and the swelling under the left eye the most concerning. 

TJ sticks his bottom between his teeth and nods. 

“How many more?” 

“A couple.” 

“A couple?” 

“Four,” he admits. 

“Four kids? In your class?” 

TJ looks to his father for moral support as he joins them, placing three spoons and three bowls of ice cream on the counter, then handing him an ice pack tucked under his arm. 

“Eye,” Tyler gently orders. “It’ll keep the swelling down. And it was four older kids,” he says to his wife, remarkably calm and composed as he leans stomach first against the island and digs into the ice cream. 

“How much older?” she asks. 

“Grade four,” TJ answers. 

She frowns. “You’re five.” 

He shrugs. “I’m a bad ass,” he reasons. 

Esme stares pointedly at her husband. 

“What?” Tyler asks innocently. “Guess he’s got good genes.” 

She sighs and turns back to her son. “You fought four kids?” 

“I was really only fighting one kid,” TJ explains. “The others jumped me. So I fought them too.” 

“All of them? At the same time?” 

“And won,” Tyler says, and then shrugs when she glares at him. “Just sayin’.” 

“You don’t seem the least bit upset about this,” she observes. 

“Why would I be? My kid just took on four other kids and beat their asses. Why would I be upset? I’m proud of him.” 

“Have you looked at his face?” 

“He’s got a black eye, a split lip, a sore nose and a couple of loose teeth. They’ll fall out and his adult teeth will eventually come in. I don’t see the big deal. I’ve had worse.” 

“You’re forty years old,” she points out. “And you used to...well...you know what used to do for a living. Of course you’ve had worse. He’s five!” 

“And it won’t be the last time he gets a little messed up. It’s not a huge deal.” 

“He could have a concussion,” she argues. 

“He does not have a concussion. Did you hit your head?” Tyler directs the question to his son. 

“Nope.” 

“He doesn’t have a concussion,” he concludes, and returns to the bowl of ice cream in front of him. 

“You can get punched hard enough to get a concussion,” Esme reminds him. 

“I don’t know how hard you think grade fours hit, but it’s not hard enough to give him a concussion. Would you relax? He’s fine.” 

“He doesn’t look fine. Do you have a headache?” she asks TJ. 

Tyler sighs in exasperation. “Esme....here...” he pushes on the bowls in front of her. “...relax.” 

She scowls. “We should take him to get looked at.” 

He can’t help but laugh. “Why? He’s fine. He got into a fight. Stop making a big deal out of it. It won’t be the last fight he gets into, trust me. Millie’s always beating the hell out of him.” 

“Why did you get into a fight in the first place?” Esme asks, as she combs her fingers through TJ’s thick, unruly hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“The one kid was picking on Tanner,” he explains, as he digs a spoon into the bowl of ice cream his father sets in his lap. “And it made Tanner cry. So I got pissed off and I told the kid to leave him alone. That he’s my brother and no one makes my brother cry. NO ONE.” 

Tyler gives a grin of pride and approval, then frowns when his wife digs her elbow into his ribs. “What? I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to,” she says. “I know what you’re thinking.” 

“I’m thinking those little shits fucked with the wrong kid.” 

“They deserved it mommy,” TJ pipes up. “They all deserved it. And I’d do it again to protect Tanner. To protect any kid against the bullies. Bad people should be punished for being bad, right? Like daddy used to punish them for hurting good people.” 

“Okay, that’s not exactly how his job worked, but...” she sighs. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Mom...” he looks her dead in the eye, suddenly appearing –and sounding- much older and more mature than he is. “...I’m tough. Okay? You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.” 

“You’re five. Not fifteen,” she reminds him, and then tousles hair. “You need to stop sounding so much like your dad. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just...it makes me nervous. You go and take your ice cream outside so I can talk to daddy for a bit, okay?” 

“Is he in trouble?” 

“Probably,” Tyler grumbles. 

“No one is in trouble. I just need to talk to him. About adult things. No little ears allowed. Got it?” 

“Got it,” he agrees, and then jumps down form the island. “Am I grounded?” 

“Not this time. You did the right thing. You stuck up for your brother and defended yourself. But you do not...I repeat DO NOT...go around starting fights. Ever. You don’t hit kids for no reason, you don’t pick on anyone, you don’t even look at someone the wrong way. Because you’re freakishly big and strong for a five-year-old and you’re going to seriously hurt someone. Now go outside, finish your ice cream, and then go and see Ovi and tell him he’s invited for dinner.” 

“Okay,” TJ says, then gathers up his bowl and scurries away, cheerfully greeting Mac as he steps outside; the dog waking from his nap under the patio table and excitedly rushing to see his favorite little human. 

**** 

“So....” Esme leans against the counter alongside her husband, scooping out a spoonful of ice cream and popping it into her mouth. “Did you kill anyone? Am I aiding and abetting a fugitive?” 

“I behaved myself. No blood was shed. I promise.” 

“What about tears? Did you make anyone cry? At least tell me you made someone cry. Or shit their pants. Both would be a bonus.” 

“I might have made the principal cry. Or shit himself. I’m not sure. He wouldn’t even come out of his office. Totally threw the secretary under the bus.” 

“Mrs. Tucker,” Esme scoffs. “That stupid bitch.” 

Tyler grins. “Look at that. There ARE things we agree on.” 

“She’s so condescending. Every time I go in there, she starts talking to me like I’m one of the students.” 

“Well in her defense, you are smaller than most of the kids there,” he teases. 

“Don’t make me take out my small people rage on you. I’ve spent thirty-five years not being able to reach the bottom of the washing machine or being able to get things off high shelves. I’ve got a lot of pent up anger over that shit, so don’t you start with me.” 

“And you say I need anger management. Everyone thinks TJ gets it from me. I think we both know where he really gets it from.” 

“I don’t think he got any of my DNA,” she frowns. “So did you? Make Mrs. Tucker cry? She’s terrified of you.” 

“She was ballsy today. She actually tried to scold me. For my bad language.” 

“How bad was your language?” 

“First I called the other kid an asshole. Then I called him a little prick.” 

“Normally I’d balk at calling kids names like that, but in this case, I think you were justified. She tried to scold you, huh?” Esme grins. “That must have gone over well. Did you make her wet her pants? Did you give her ‘the look’?” 

“Which look? I have about twenty.” 

“More like forty. I’ve counted them. But you know the one I’m talking about. Mille and the twins all have it. That one that clearly says you’re tired of someone’s shit and ready to show hands.” 

“In that case, yes. I gave her ‘the look’.” 

“And the principal never came out?” 

“Nope.” 

Esme snorts. “What a pussy!” 

“I don’t know what his issue is. I’m not that scary.” 

“Sure you’re not,” she laughs. “You’re so scary, Chuck Norris sleeps with a nightlight on.” 

Tyler smirks. “Now that’s a good one.” 

“So what they say? What’s the punishment?” 

“They wanted to suspend him for four days. But I wouldn’t sign that papers until all the little pricks got in trouble too. Why is our kid the only one catching shit when all he was going was standing up for his brother? And defending himself when the other little fucks jumped him.” 

“Think this is the elementary school version of the Goonies from hell?” 

Tyler laughs at that. “That’s exactly what they are. The Australian version of Farhad and his buddies.” 

“We have to find something to laugh about when it comes to Dhaka, right?” 

He nods in agreement. “Secretary said the other parents will want an apology.” 

“Fuck them.” 

“And that they could press charges.” 

“Give me a break. He’s five.” 

“It’s still assault. She’s right about that.” 

“Well if that’s assault, then so is what they did to him. They jumped a five-year-old. Who turned around and beat the hell out of them.” 

“Millie said it was...and this is a direct quote from our daughter...’fucking awesome’. Is it wrong that I would have loved to have seen that? Just watch him destroy those kids. He’s in kindergarten and he’s taking on older kids. A group of them. At the same time. And he’s winning. Now come on, that’s impressive.” 

“And did you hear what he just said? About teaching bad people a lesson? I wonder he gets THAT from.” 

“I know you hate when I say this about any of them, but that kid is all me. There’s no denying whose DNA was more powerful when he was made.” 

“No one wants to hear about your stellar genes or your super sperm or whatever you’re going to say next.” 

“No one,” he grins. “Meaning you. Don’t be bitter about this. I’m sorry your genes just could not compete that day. That they didn’t show up until the very last one. It’s not my fault that they were asleep at the wheel.” 

“I’m going to smother you in your sleep one day and no one will be the wiser. They’ll probably sympathize me, actually. That poor girl; putting up with his bullshit for so long. No wonder she didn’t do it sooner.” 

“Listen, anyone who knows you, knows you don’t put it with bullshit. And that I’m one who’s been putting up with yours for almost seven years. Don’t act all innocent. You’re tiny but you take no shit from anyone. Like one of those dogs people carry around in their purses. They look all cute and sweet, but they’ll take out your Achilles tendon and then go for your jugular once you’re down.” 

“One day Tyler...” she muses with a dramatic sigh. “...one day I will bring you down. You’ll be begging for mercy when I finally get a hold of you.” 

“You’ve had me begging before, so...” 

“Okay, during sex does not count. I’m talking about making you beg for mercy. Because the next time you compare me to some angry animal...” 

“So I can’t ever bring out the comparison to a honey badger?” 

“I will seriously kick you in the nuts! “ 

“Considering how short you are, it’d have to be a head butt.” 

“Do you want to see your forty first birthday?” She laughs, and he chuckles and wraps an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his, lips pressing against her temple. “Do you think they will?” she asks, turning serious once again. “Want to press charges?” 

“I doubt it. They’ll be embarrassed when they find out a kindergarten kid that’s still afraid of the dark beat the fuck out of their spawn. At the same time.” 

“You’re a little too proud about that.” 

“I’m so fucking proud of that kid I could cry,” Tyler admits. 

Esme rolls her eyes. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the school calls the child protection people again. Because I’m too ‘aggressive’ and a ‘bad influence’. I’ll fucking show them aggressive if they show up here. I’ve got lots of property I can hide bodies on.” 

“Okay, how about we NOT kill the child services person. Chances are they won’t even show up because last time they found nothing against us, and they were pissed at the school for wasting their time. So...” she carries their dirty dishes to the sink, then stands behind him and curls back around his waist and rests her head against his back. “...let’s not even think about that. I’m proud of you. For handling things as well as you did. I thought for sure you’d have an anxiety attack going there. But you held in there and kicked some ass. Maybe not literally, but still. You did awesome, baby. Progress!” 

“Do I get a gold star on the chore chart chore of it?” he chides. “I think I’m on three out of five days of good behavior and responsibilities met.” 

“Oh, I’ll give you something later for it,” she promises. “You do realize that even though this time was justified, our son still has issues, right?” 

Tyler sighs. “I know. He takes after me, yeah? Of course he has issues.” 

“Baby, he’s five and he’s been through a lot and he’s having a hard time processing it all. This has nothing to do with you. Stop beating yourself up over things you can’t control. You didn’t do this to Tyler in the same way you didn’t do something that made Austin sick. Have you had that dream again?” 

“Not since we talked about it. Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it. Obsessing over shit. About her turning six. But no. I haven’t had the dream since that night.” 

“Then stop. Please. Stop hating yourself for things that are beyond your control. You’re not a horrible person, Tyler. You’re a good person who has had to some horrible things.” 

“You have a lot of faith in me.” 

“Well, I kind of like you a little bit, so...” 

“We’ve moved up to like, huh?” he teases, as he turns around to face her, hands settling on her hips. “Only took almost seven years to get past the tolerating me stage.” 

“Don’t push it. There’s days where my tolerance level is pretty low. Because let me tell you, as cute as you are, there are times where you just drive me absolutely batshit insane.” 

“But you’d miss me. If you woke up one day and I was gone.” 

“I don’t even like hearing you joke about that. That is not something I like to think about, let alone talk about. Especially now that we’ve got this Ovi bullshit hanging over our heads and the very real possibility that you’re going to get back into things and...” 

“And we’re not going to worry about that shit unless we have to,” he finishes for her. “Stop,” he implores, taking her face in his hands and kissing her softly. “We are nowhere near anything like that going down. That’s weeks away. If not months. It isn’t going to happen overnight. So I need you to stop thinking about it, okay?” 

Esme nods, but the tears sparkling in her eyes gives away her true feelings. 

“Don’t do that. Please. Don’t look at me like that,” he begs, and places a palm on the back of her head and pulls her into him. “Everything is going to be okay. It might not even come to that. Me having to leave.” 

Her arms wrap around his waist, hands sliding under the bottom of his t-shirt and her index fingers hooking around the belt loops on his jeans. “I know you’re trying out the whole optimistic gig, but when you actually don’t sound optimistic, it doesn’t work very well. This shouldn’t even be happening. We shouldn’t even have to worry about this. It was supposed to be behind us.” 

“I know. And I’m sorry. That this is shit is even happening. It’s not what I wanted. Trust me.” 

“It’s not exactly your fault. You didn’t put all that crap in Ovi’s head. I just didn’t want you dragged back into this. Not now. Not ever. We have five kids that need you. Why didn’t he think of that? Of the people here that need you to come home safe and sound.” 

“Because he’s a fucking drongo, that’s why. But you know what? There’s a chance I won’t even have to go anywhere. And that’s the chance I need you to think about. Can you do that? For me? Start thinking about how I may NOT have to go instead of convincing yourself that I AM going. Because one of us needs to be the strong one right now, and if I’m totally honest, I don’t feel like being that person.” 

“You don’t have to be,” she says. “You know that. You don’t have to always be strong, Tyler. Sometimes you need someone to be strong for you. That that’s okay. No matter what someone told you or what you saw or heard growing up, there’s nothing wrong with NOT being strong. And fuck anyone who ever made you feel otherwise. Your father, Gaspar. Fuck them both.” 

“I’m so fucking pissed,” he admits. “At Ovi. At Nik. At everyone and everything. I’m angry and I’m frustrated, and you know what? I’m fucking terrified. Because I don’t know if I can do that shit anymore. The job. I don’t know if I have it in me. Physically or mentally. And if I fuck up even in the smallest way, I’m NOT coming home. And that scares me the most.” 

She tightens her hold on him; fingers releasing the belt loops and now gripping the back of his shirt, face buried in his chest. “It’s okay,” she says. “To be scared. You can be scared with me, Tyler.” 

Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he buries his face in her hair and closes his eyes. It’s comforting; the feel of her body pressed against his, the smoothness of her skin and the heat that radiates off of it, the familiar scent that clings to her hair. There are so many little things that he tends to take for granted. The way she’ll stand on the top of his feet to kiss him because she thinks those couple of inches gained make a remarkable difference. How she’ll just wander into the gym in the middle of a workout and not say a word or even make eye contact with him yet leave a bottle of water where he can find it. Or how she’ll just silently reach for his hand and hold it while they sit on the patio outside of their bedroom and watch the sunrise together. 

Little things he’d miss in a huge way if they suddenly ceased to exist.


	19. Chapter 19

“I don’t think your husband likes me very much,” Salena comments, as she and Esme lounge in the shade of the back patio. 

They share a pitcher of non-alcoholic sangria while watching as Chloe entertains the kids in the pool and Kyle and Tyler –chatting amicably- busy themselves at the barbecue; both shirtless and tanned and buff in their remarkably different ways, both clad in swim shorts that sit dangerously low on their hips. There’s no sign of Ovi; he’d run into town on an errand over an hour again and had yet to return. 

“Don’t take it personally,” Esme says, as she stretches her legs and places her feet in the chair across from her; one hand nursing her own drink as the other holds the bottle Addie nurses from as she lays along her mother’s thighs. “He doesn’t like anyone.” 

“I’d laugh, but I don’t think you’re joking.” 

“It’s not that he doesn’t like people. He’s just very...I don’t know...guarded. He doesn’t trust as easily and quickly as I do. And he has his reasons. Very valid ones.” 

“From his military days?” 

“That and what he did afterwards. It wasn’t an easy life. For him more so than me. I wasn’t as involved as he was. I was just the ‘brain side’ of things; he was all physical. And it did a lot of damage. Mentally.” 

She refuses to delve further into it. It’s not her story to tell; finding it disrespectful - not only to Tyler himself, but the struggles he’s endured and the progress he’s made- to discuss it with anyone without his knowledge. 

“And physically by the looks of it,” Salena says. 

Esme nods. “The last job we were on the...the one that nearly killed him...it caused the most issues. It was a long haul. Months in the hospital, months in inpatient therapy. If you could see what he was like then, you’d see how far he’s come. How hard he to work to get where he is now. I’m proud of him. I don’t tell him that often enough. I should pretty get on that.” 

“Well I may not know exactly what you’re talking about or what happened on this last job you worked, but he’s lucky to have you. You’re strong as hell. If you’ve managed to stick around through all of that and through all of whatever happened in Colorado...” 

“I guess maybe I’m old fashioned in thinking that you don’t just walk away from things...from people...without trying to work on them first. And I know he comes across pretty intense, but he’s worth it. I wouldn’t have put all the time and the effort into it if he wasn’t. He’s a big man with an even bigger heard. You just have to give him a chance.” 

“Think he’ll give me a chance?” 

“It’s going to take some time. It’s just who it is. He doesn’t like people in his space. Don’t let him get to you. He’s not doing it to hurt you. He’s doing it to protect himself.” 

“Men are brilliant at that, aren’t they?” Salena smirks. “Guarding themselves like that? “ 

“And he’s twice as bad as your average man,” Esme says. “I love him...with all that I am and all that I have...but he’s exhausting.” 

The other woman laughs at that. “You know what’s exhausting? Your children. Are they always like this?” 

“Always. From the time they get up in the morning. They can’t sit still. Ever. They're all energy, stamina, and fearlessness. Have you seen my son’s face? He got into a fight at school. Defending his brother. Four older kids jumped him, and he kicked their asses. All of them. AT the same time. And I’m not naming names or finger pointing but guess what parent he gets THAT from. Here’s a hint: it’s not me.” 

“I don’t think they got anything from you,” Salena remarks. “Are you sure you gave birth to them? Because not one of them looks like you.” 

“Right?! I told you. I wasn’t joking. They all look like him. They’re exactly like him; head to toe. Inside and out. How unfair is that? Mind you, it’s still touch and go with Tanner. Personality wise. He’s on the fence but he leans more towards me. That other ones? All Tyler.” 

“Strong genes.” 

“Whatever you do, do not say that to him. Because we’ll get into a conversation about it and you’ll have to hear about his dominate DNA and his super sperm and no one...and by no one, I mean me...wants to hear that.” 

Salena laughs and reaches for the pitcher of sangria and fills both their glasses. Well you did get one that looks like you. That little nugget is definitely all mommy.” 

“So far,” Esme agrees. “But she’s a tough little thing. She probably should still be in the hospital because of how small she was when she was born and all the problems she had, but she was not having any of it. There was no way she was staying there, and she proved all the doctors. She is a little nugget,” she leans down and presses a kiss to Addie’s forehead, then places the empty bottle on the table and lifts her to her chest. “Won’t be for long eating the way she does, mind you.” 

“Speaking of eating,” Salena comments. “I see something I’d like to eat.” 

Esme glances towards what has captured her friend’s attention; both Tyler and Kyle standing at the side of the barbecue, the latter talking animatedly about one of his especially daring fireman rescues and dramatically flexing his biceps. 

“Okay as much as it grosses me out because he’s my brother. I’m hoping it’s Kyle you’re talking about and not my husband. Because I have to draw the line somewhere on comments I won’t allow.” 

“Honey, your man is fine as hell and I was not expecting THAT when I walked over here today. Not in a million years was I expecting him to look like he does. When you said retired, I thought you meant old man retired. But I’d never disrespect you by taking things too far. I definitely was talking about your brother.” 

“Ewww,” she wrinkles her nose in disgusts, then holds Addie out at arms lengths, one hand under her bum, the other supporting the back of her head. “...can you believe that, Addie? Someone finding Uncle K attractive? Uncle Shrek is more like it.” 

“I know you aren't talking about me,” he comments, as he steps up onto the patio, a slight sunburn gracing his broad shoulders, ball cap backwards on his head, sunglasses on. 

“You’re the only uncle here so if the shoe fits...” 

“See what I put up with?” He winks at Salena. “Thirty-five years of this. Her talking shit about me like that. You think she’s all sweet and cute? Try growing up with her. Pain in the ass.” 

Esme smirks. “Kyle used to undress all my Barbies and put them in compromising positions together all over my doll house. And then he’d try and convince our mom that I did it.” 

He grins at the memory. “You were a twisted little thing. Even then.” 

“I was five! You were eight and sneaking peeks at Mike’s porn collection he kept under his mattress. Don’t even try to deny it. Perv.” 

“I was...curious...” he reasons. 

“He also used to like walking around in mom’s high heels. He used to steal them out of her closet and parade around like RuPaul.” 

“Why is why my calves and my ass are as fabulous as they are,” Kyle concludes. “You ladies need anything? Kids want something to drink.” 

“I’m fine,” Esme says. “But Addie needs something?” 

“What’s that?” 

She holds the baby out to him. “You’ll smell it in about five seconds.” 

“Really, bean?” he grimaces as he takes her from her mother. “How does someone so small smell so bad?” 

“Because she’s a Rake and they’re all rotten inside. Big and small. Thank you, big brother. You’re a gem.” 

“And you’re still a pain in the ass,” he playfully retorts, and then disappears into the house. 

“Oh yeah,” Salena sighs. “I would definitely eat that.” 

“Please tell me you’re not talking about my brother’s ass when you’ve only known him for two days.” 

“I don’t mean eat in a literal way. Or maybe I do. Because I’d let him eat mine like a cupcake.” 

“Oh my God,” Esme nearly spits her drink across the table. “That’s my brother! And I have my kinks but...ewwww....” she gags. “...even I draw the line somewhere.” 

“Oh, come on! You mean you’ve never done it or had it done?” 

“No. Hell no. Just....” she makes a retching noise. “...I think I’m going to puke.” 

“Does he do that sort of thing?” 

“I don’t know. He’s my brother. I don’t know what he does in the bedroom. I don’t even want to think about it. He did have an ex-girlfriend that was a dominatrix though.” 

Salena’s eyes widen. 

“He met her when there was a fire at a sex show. I do not make this stuff up. It’s the honest to God truth. He’s a fireman. He has met women in the weirdest situations.” 

“Has he ever been married? Any kids?” 

“No and no.” 

“Single?” 

“Sadly, no. But he can be. Do you want him to be? I can make it happen.” 

“I do not want you breaking him and his girlfriend up just for me.” 

“Oh, I don’t like her anyway. We have history. And not good history, either. I can hook you up. Want me to take one of the team? I’ll do it.” 

“You’ll do what?” Tyler asks as he joins them on the patio, Declan on his hip, wrapped in an oversized beach towel. 

“Nothing,” she quickly and innocently replies. “I’m doing absolutely nothing. What are you doing?” 

“I’m bringing you your kid. He wants mommy.” 

“Sure he does. You’re his favorite. Don’t bring him here.” 

“I’m busy going shit. Here... go see mommy...” he places Declan in her lap then places a hand on the back of her neck and a kiss to her cheek. “Do I even want to know what you two are doing?” he asks, as he grabs a disposable plastic cup from a stack on the table and pours himself some of the sangria. 

“We were just talking about eating ass,” Esme replies, and he scowls. “Were your ears burning, honey? Because they should have been.” 

“We do a lot of weird shit, but we don’t do THAT.” 

“Salena wants Kyle to eat her ass like a cupcake.” 

He nearly chokes on a mouthful of sangria. 

“You never learn your lesson about walking in on girl talk,” Esme says. “You wanted to know what we were doing, now you do. Hey,” she snags him by the wrist before he can walk away. “I need you to me a favor.” 

“If it involves THAT, you married the wrong guy.” 

“Salena wants to feel you up. Let her touch your arm.” 

“What?” he laughs. “Why?” 

“She told me that she asked you earlier today and that you said no. Because you said it was disrespectful towards me letting another woman do it. Which is very sweet, and I love you very much for, by the way. So she asked me to ask you. If she could touch your arm.” 

Tyler glances back and forth between the two women. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“She’s curious. She’s never seen arms like that. She’s lived a sheltered life. If I didn’t know you, I’d want to touch them too. Please? Make her day. Just flex and let her feel them. I promise I won’t get mad.” 

“You’re both fucked,” he declares, but relents; quickly flexing his left arm and allowing Salena’s hand to explore. Starting at the shoulder and travelling over both bicep and tricep before ending up on his forearm. “You’re lucky I love you,” he says to his wife, palms coming to rest on the arms of her chair as he leans down to kiss her; long, soft, and enough to make her toes curl. 

“Do I get kissed like that too?” Salena inquires as he walks off, frowning when she gets the middle finger in response. 

“That wasn’t so bad was it?!” Esme calls after him. “I love you! Just so you know!” 

“I now understand why you have five kids,” Salena says. “Because if I had a body like that next me in bed every night...” 

“Sorry. He’s taken. He’s all mine.” 

“Lucky bitch.” Salena mutters, and then playfully digs her elbow into Esme’s side. “This must be the bonus kid.” she says, as Ovi steps through the sliding doors; giving a sheepish smile and a small wave, clutching a colorful bouquet of flowers in his other hand. 

“This one is my favorite,” Esme declares. “Just don’t tell the others. Why are you all dressed up?” she asks him, studying the short-sleeved button down and his neatly pressed khaki pants. “You clean up good.” 

“Just wanted to look good, I guess. These are for you,” he offers Esme the flowers. “Just because.” 

“You didn’t have to do that, Ovi,” she presses a kiss to his cheek as he leans down to embrace her. “I wasn’t THAT mad at you. You didn’t have to get me flowers.” 

“I know. But I wanted to.” 

“I’m going to go and get a refill,” Salena announces, as she stands and grabs the nearly empty pitcher of sangria. “Seems like you two need to talk. And who knows, maybe Kyle needs some help.” 

“My brother knows how to change a diaper,” Esme retorts. “No groping him in front of my kid!” 

“I make no promises,” her friend laughs, and then disappears into the house. 

**** 

Ovi slips into the chair alongside of her, greeting Declan enthusiastically as the toddler climbs off Esme’s lap and into his. He’s a favorite with all the kids; affectionate and compassionate and possessing the patience of a saint. 

Smiling, she lifts the flowers to her face and inhales deeply, then leans sideways in her chair and presses a kiss to his cheek. “They’re beautiful, thank you. That’s very sweet of you. Tyler’s going to be worried you’re setting the bar too high for him.” 

Ovi chuckles at that. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” she insists. “You know that, right? I don’t you buying me thing to get back on my good side. You could have just come and talked to me.” 

“I know. I guess I was just afraid to. After what happened the other night, I was worried I’d only make things worse. I never meant for things to come out like that; I wanted to talk to you myself. I didn’t want you finding out like that.” 

“Well Chloe has a real way of making a mess of things.” Esme concludes. “I guess she told you? That I confronted her. Gave her shit?” 

Ovi nods. 

“She said a lot of things that were out of line. About me. About my kids. About Tyler. And you know defensive I get. Especially about him. He’s the person she should be talking shit about. Considering he’s the reason you’re even here. That he nearly died making sure you even got to see your fifteenth birthday.” 

‘I know. And I told her that. That she had no right saying things about him. That he doesn’t deserve it.” 

“No. He doesn’t. And you know what else he doesn’t deserve? Getting dragged back into this bullshit. He gave it up, Ovi. The job. He walked away. Not just to save himself, but to keep his family together. You know important that is to him. Having a family.” 

“I do,” Ovi confirms. 

“Then why couldn’t you just let him have a life? Why couldn’t you just let him rest? He deserves that. Hasn’t he done enough? Hasn’t he sacrificed enough for the job? For you?” 

“I didn’t mean to drag him into it. I just thought he could help with some things. Maybe do some easy jobs from time to time. Until we could get things off the ground.” 

“There is no such thing as an easy job,” she argues. “There’s always a chance that something will go wrong. That you could get hurt. Or worse. But then you went to Nik? Before you even talked to Tyler? What the hell? He’s the first person you should have went to.” 

“I just wanted advice,” he attempts to explain. “About how to talk to him about it. And I figured...” 

“The last person you should be going to about how to deal with Tyler is Nik. Trust me. She doesn’t even know how to deal with Tyler properly. She just knows how to take advantage of him and manipulate him. You realize that’s what she did, right? That she used his PTSD against him and all the fear he had about not being to provide for his family. She completely fucked with his head. That’s not okay, Ovi. That’s nowhere near okay. Yet you turn around and trust her before you trust him?” 

“I never thought about all of that,” he admits. “And I really did only go to her for advice. And then she offered me a job and...” 

“Did you really tell her that you felt you something to prove to him?” 

Ovi blinks. “What?” 

“She told Tyler that he’s the reason you started thinking about the job. That he made you feel as if you needed to prove to him that you were worthy of his love. That you were worthy of being treated like one of his kids.” 

“I never said that. I would never say that.: 

“Are you sure? Because that’s what Nik told him. That he’s the reason you wanted to do the job. That he made you feel like you had to.” 

“I would never say that!” he insists. “Not everything he’s done for me. Not just in Dhaka but when he came to Mumbai to help, when he talked to my father about letting me live with you, everything in Colorado, and now here. I would never say that about him. And he’s never made me feel like that. Ever.” 

“Are you bullshitting me? Because if I find out you’re lying to me and you did say all that about him...” 

“I swear! On my mother’s grave. I never said anything like that. And I never will. Why would Nik tell him that?” 

“Because she’s Nik,” Esme grumbles. “Because she wants to manipulate him into her helping. And it worked. You know he agreed, right? To help you. To train you?” 

He nods. 

Esme scoffs. “You’re going to need a bigger set of balls because he is going to hard core on you. He won’t show you any mercy. You think basic training for the military sounds tough? This will be ten times worse. And when he’s in that ‘zone’, he’s ruthless. Savage. He will break oyu. I’m not even joking. You really think you’re ready for that?” 

“I guess I’ll find out.” 

“Oh you’re going to find out. When he has you passing out or puking all over the place. I am telling you; you need to be prepared. You need to be ready. Because he will not go easy on you. He might even go even harder on you than anyone else. Consider yourself warmed. 

Ovi sighs heavily. 

“Why are you even doing this?” she asks. “Getting involved in the job? I don’t get it. I can’t even wrap my head around it. After everything that happened in Dhaka. Everything you saw. Why? Was that not traumatizing enough? Because it sure as hell was for me. And I already had firsthand experience in absolutely shit shows. But that? On the bridge? That was fucked up, Ovi. And I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” 

“You went through more than I did,” he attempts to reason. “You stayed there. With him.” 

“Well someone had to because Nik sure as shit wasn’t sticking around. And this isn’t about me and what I did. This is about you wanting to do the job and me not understanding why. Is it Chloe? Did she put you up to this?” 

“I swear it was not her.” 

“Then what the hell? It’s not Tyler. It’s not Chloe. Is it me? Did I say something or do something because I...?” 

“No!” Ovi interjects. “It’s definitely not you. You’re my mom. The only mom I’ve ever had. That I remember. It’s not you.” 

“Then help me understand this,” she implores. “Because I don’t get it. I don’t get why...after everything you’ve been through and after everything that Tyler’s been through...you’d want that life.” 

“I honestly don’t know,” he admits. “I just want to do it. I have to do it.” 

“That makes absolutely zero sense. Ovi, you need to listen to me. Because I’m going to talk you like a mother. Actually, I am going to resort to begging you. Forget about this. The job. Don’t do this. It is not the life you want and it’s not the life I want for you. I’ve lived that life. Long before you came along. Before Tyler even came along. I have seen what happens to people. Good people that thought they could handle the job and couldn’t. And it didn’t end well. The job destroys you. Slowly. It kills you from the inside out. Until you either put a bullet in your brain or someone else does it for you.” 

He nods slowly and swallows heavily, considering her brutally honest words. 

“The job never lets you go,” Esme continues. “Even when you walk away. You see that. You’ve been with us for five years now. You see what it’s done to Tyler. You know the demons he battles with every minute of every day. You’ve seen him when he’s been in the darkest possible places and he’s wanted to kill himself. You’re here on the days he can’t even get out of bed. Why would you want that for yourself? I don’t want that for you. And I know Tyler doesn’t want that for you.” 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes back tears. “That he’s gone through all of that. That he still goes through it.” 

“But you’re still going to do it, aren’t you. You’re still going to go through with this.” 

He nods. 

Sighing heavily, she shakes her head in disbelief, then places her elbow on the arm rest and her cheek on her palm. She glances out towards the pool where Tyler now stands at the edge; arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at Millie, who's in the midst of a rather animated tale, hands wildly moving and gesturing with nearly every word. She’s tall and lanky yet still looks so tiny alongside of him, and when stops talking she copies his stance of arms over chest, hip slightly cocked to the side. Their resemblance uncanny as they stare one another down; same color and texture of hair, same skin tone, same facial expression. 

He breaks first, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. And Millie giggles when he effortlessly scoops her up off the ground with one arm, then shrieks when he tosses her into the water. The twins want in on the action and they quickly scramble for the ladders on the sides of the pool, their bare feet smacking against the deck as they rush towards him. The fun lasts for several minutes; the kids squealing and each time they’re hurled into the water, making it a competition on who can make the biggest and loudest splash. There’s a smile on Tyler’s face. A genuine smile. For a long time, he’d had to force them for the sake of the kids; the depression so powerful and profound that most days just putting one foot in front of the other was considering tremendous progress. But it’s real now; lighting up his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes. And it’s so beautiful. 

“Ovi,” Esme begins, as she struggles to hold back the fold of threatening to me. “I need you to listen to what I’m about to say. And it’s going to sound super harsh and I’m sorry for that and you know that I love you like you’re one of my own.” 

He nods. 

“But if something happens and you fuck up and you need Tyler to come and save your ass, you better make sure he comes home. Alive. Because if he doesn’t, I will never...ever...forgive you. Do you understand me? If something happens to him and he doesn’t make it out of there and you do, I will spend the rest of my life hating you. Because that is my husband. The father of my children. The love of my life. And if he dies, I will hold you responsible and I will make sure it haunts you until you take your last breath.” 

The sliding door opens and Salena and Kyle step out, chatting and laughing as if they’ve been friends forever, Salena now sporting his baseball hat. And Kyle frowns when he sees his sister’s tear stained face and her attempts at brushing away the remnants of her emotional meltdown. 

He glares at Ovi. “What the hell did you do to my sister?” 

“Nothing,” Esme answers for him, using the back of her hand to clean up the last of the tears. “You know how I get; how I cry for the stupidest reasons sometimes. I just had a baby three weeks ago. My hormones are still messed up.” 

“You sure?” her brother asks. “Because...” 

“Because what? What are you going to do, K? Beat him up? I already have one overprotective man in my life, I don’t need another. I’m fine. It’s just my emotions; all over the place.” She gives him a reassuring smile as she pushes her chair away from the table and stands up. “I’m going to go in and start bringing things out. If you want to hold onto little bean there...” 

“You kidding? I’m going to hold her forever. I’m never giving this one back.” 

“You might have to fight her for over that. He’s sort of attached to her. That’s his last one and he’s enjoying it all he can.” 

Kyle shakes his head. “I keep telling you both. Go for the even half dozen. The procedure can be reversed and then just get it done again after the sixth.” 

“Yeah, that’s a no from me, Kyle. We’ve reached our limit. Five is fine. Neither of us are OCD enough to make it an even number.” 

“One more,” he encourages. “A boy.” 

“You’re insane. Three boys are enough. More than enough. You want babies, you have them. Find someone that’s actually willing to have sex with you and put your spawn in them. My baby making days are over, thank you very much.” 

“I’m kind of one Kyle’s side here,” Salena says. “One more wouldn’t hurt. And you guys make really cute kids, so...” 

“No more babies,” Esme insists. “That’s it. We’ve reached the end of the line. And don’t even think about putting this bullshit in Tyler’s head because he comes to me and suddenly thinks another one is a good idea, I’m coming to kick both your asses.” 

“Do you want some help?” Salena inquires as Esme heads for the door. “I don’t mind.” 

“I’m fine. I’ll call you if I need you. You’re a guest. So just sit down and do guest stuff. Or get Kyle to flex and feel up his arm. So you can see the difference. Boy versus man. And you’re the former, Kyle. In case there was any doubt.” 

“That’s harsh,” he complains. “My arms are just as big.” 

“Sure,” his sister agrees. “If you put both of yours together. Then they’re as big as one of Tyler’s.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re a savage, kid. A straight savage.” 

“Personally. I think your arms are just right.” Salena drawls, then gives him a wink before following her friend into the house.


	20. Chapter 20

Every Saturday morning Millie has him up at the crack of dawn; a habit she’d developed after their first weekend back in Australia, when she pestered him awake, insisting he watch the sunrise with her. Six months later he can still remember the look of awe and wonder on her face; those blue eyes impossibly wide, her mouth hanging open in shock, hands clasped tightly against her chest. It became their ‘thing’. Sitting out on the back patio and watching as the sun came up, having breakfast and then heading down to the beach. If the conditions were right and the winds not too strong and the waves not too challenging, he’d take her surfing; she’d been a natural from the start, confident, expressing no fear or hesitation. She even had her own board: a custom job that he’d let her pick out and choose the colors and designs she wanted on it. If things weren’t cooperating, they’d take Mac for a walk along the beach and throw things in the water for him to retrieve. Millie would collect rocks, shells and all the beach glass she could possibly find; adding everything to the already expansive collection she kept in shoe boxes under her bed. Or they’d take a hike through the woods that bordered their property, and she’d use his phone to take pictures of any wildlife and ‘cool looking stuff’ they’d stumble upon. 

It’s their time together. Before all her siblings are awake and the chaos of the day begins. Just shy of six years old and despite her penchant for profanity and fighting, she’s insanely intelligent and well spoken; introspective and wise, oddly intuitive for someone so young. More like her mother than anyone realizes. And he cherishes their alone time. She’s not his first born; no one could ever replace Austin. But she’s the first in his new life; a living reminder of the second chance that he’s given. A beautiful, amazing little soul that had been created during quite possibly the craziest and most difficult time of his life; in the midst of all the loss and the destruction that Dhaka had brought with it. An accident maybe, not but a mistake. Their bond is profound, stronger than the others. He’d been with her from the go after all, when she was still being carried inside of her mother’s body. When she was a baby, he hadn’t gotten back into the job yet. There’d been no leaving in the middle of the night, no being absent for days and often weeks. And he’d been so grateful to be given another shot at being a father that he’d devoted every waking moment to her. 

After the sunrise she helps him make breakfast; standing on one of the kitchen chairs she pushes right up against the stove. The same thing she has him make every Saturday: pancakes topped with fresh fruit and syrup. Proud of herself when she gets the responsibility of mixing the batter and ladling it onto the griddle. Talking his ear off the entire time the food cooks; the dreams she’d had during the night,, everything she’d learned in school that week, all the different activities she and her friends had engaged in during gym and recess. All bright eyed and cheerful, a stark comparison to his more sullen and quiet morning mood. But he humors her. Like always. Offering up nods or small comments at the appropriate times, sympathetic scowls or shakes of the head when she’d complain about something she found wildly unfair or particularly disturbing. When all the food is prepared and they’re ready to head outside to eat, she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes as tight as she can. And when she says “I love you daddy” in that little voice of hers, everything seems perfect and right in the world. 

Breakfast is finished and he’s on his second coffee of the morning when she speaks again. Her thick, unruly hair tumbling down the sides of her face and to the middle of her back as she sits across from him; feet up on the seat and her Hello Kitty pajama top pulled over skinned and bruised knees. Those blue eyes dark and serious, her brow furrowed. 

“Daddy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is it true you almost died?” 

Tyler watches her over the top of his mug, lips pressed against the rim. She’s already perfected the poker face, not even the slightest hint of emotion. And she suddenly seems so much older and mature than her actual age. 

“The other night when we saw Auntie Nik and Uncle Kyle,” she continues. “Mommy said you almost died. Is that true?” 

Fuck, he silently curses. It had been bad enough dealing with the fallout of Ovi telling her about his ‘real job’; that the reason he went away so often was because he was ‘helping get good people away from bad people’. The nightmares had lasted for two months; she’d wake up screaming in terror, often wetting her bed, sometimes even throwing up. But now this? His own brush with death was something he’d hoped to not have to touch on until she was much older. If ever. 

“It is,” he confesses. “I did almost die.” 

“The bad guys hurt you?” 

He nods. 

“How? How did they hurt you?” 

“You don’t need to know those things. Maybe when you’re older I’ll tell you. But you’re too young to hear all of that.” 

“But it was really bad,” she states. 

“Yeah. It was really bad.” 

Her expression remains neutral, eyes fixed on her fingers as they fidget with a loose piece of thread on the hem of her night shirt. “Mommy was there too?” 

“Mommy was there,” he confirms. “She helped me. So I wouldn’t die.” 

“So she’s a hero?” 

“I think so. She’s my hero, at least.” 

Millie smiles at that. Then quickly turns serious again; those deep lines in her forehead returning, eyes darkening once more. “If you died, I wouldn’t be here. And neither would TJ or Tanner or Declan or Addie.” 

“You would still be here. You were going to be here whether I died or not. You were already in mommy’s tummy.” 

“Did you know? That I was in there.” 

Tyler shakes his head. “I didn’t know. Neither did mommy.” 

“How come? How come you didn’t know?” 

“The doctor hadn’t told us yet,” it seems like the easiest and most logical explanation for a child to grasp. “We didn’t find out until a little while later that we were having you.” 

“So if you died, mommy would have been all alone when she found out about me? She would have had to have me all by herself? With no daddy in the room?” 

He manages a nod, finding himself fighting back his own wave of emotion. It’s something he doesn’t think about often; if he’d died and Esme would have been left to handle everything on her own. How she would have felt finding out that she was carrying the baby of a dead man. With nothing more than those five days in Dhaka to remember him by. 

“That’s sad,” Millie’s voice is a near whisper, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Poor mommy.” 

He doesn’t know what to say. Or if there’s anything he can say. No wise or helpful words of comfort that can heal that particular wound. Especially when flooded with his own emotions: sadness, regret, guilt. That he’d ever put Esme in that situation in the first place. 

Millie rebounds quickly; brushing the tears off her cheeks with the backs of her hands and tucking her hair behind her ears. “Were you happy?” she asks. “When you found out that I was in mommy’s tummy?” 

“Yeah...” he takes a swig of coffee. “...I was happy. Surprised. But happy.” 

“A good surprise?” 

He smiles. “A very good surprise.” 

“Because you were sad before, right? Because Austin died. And he was you first baby. I’m the second.” 

“You’re my first too. You’re my first with your mom. That still counts. And yeah, I was happy because I was getting a second chance to be a dad. Your mommy gave me that chance. So did you. Did you know that I used to talk to you all the time? When you were in mommy’s tummy.” 

Her eyes and her voice brighten. “You did?” 

Tyler nods. “I used to my hand on mommy’s stomach and you’d always kick it. I used to tell you all kinds of stuff. About all the thing we were going to get to do together. About how awesome it was going to be take you to beach and teach you how to surf. About how much I loved you and couldn’t wait to meet you.” 

“Mommy said that you got to meet me first. When I was born.” 

“I did. I was the very first person that doctor gave you to.” 

“Did you cry?” 

“I did,” he admits. “More than you did, I think. You were kind of quiet, actually. You were just looking around at everyone and everything with those big blue eyes.” 

“What did I look like?” 

“You were really small. Not as small as Addie though. You were three pounds heavier than her. And you had tons of hair. A little darker than it is now.” 

“Was I cute?” 

“The cutest baby ever.” 

“Did I look like you or mommy?” 

“Would I say you were the cutest baby ever if you looked like your mom? Come on now.” 

“Daddy!” she scolds. “That’s mean. Mommy is very pretty.” 

“She is. You’re the cutest baby ever and she’s the prettiest mommy ever. But you looked like me. You looked like me then and you look like me now.” 

“That’s okay I guess,” she gives a rather forlorn sigh. “I mean, you’re okay to look at, I suppose.” 

Tyler smirks. “Now who’s mean?” 

“I learn from the best,” she declares, then reaches for the plastic cup of chocolate milk that sits on the table. “If you and mommy didn’t know each other and didn’t have any kids and you met her somewhere, would you still fall in love with her?” 

“Absolutely,” he replies with no hesitation. 

“Would you still marry her?” 

“I’d marry your mom a million times over. Think she’d marry me? If she didn’t know me yet and just met me?” 

“I think so. I mean, she obviously loves you, right?” 

“Think so?” 

“I know so. I mean, she puts up with your shit.” 

Tyler laughs at that. “Yeah,” he agrees. “She does.” 

“But I think you’re doing okay, daddy. I think you’re brave and you’re strong and you need to be nicer to yourself. You need to say nice things to yourself instead of bad things. When you get up in the morning, you should look in the mirror and tell yourself that you’re awesome and no one is going to make you angry or sad or dull your sparkle. That’s what I do, you know,” she pushes her hand through her hair, moving it off her forehead and away from her face. “Every day when I get up, I tell myself, ‘Amelia, it’s going to be a great day’. I use my real name when I talk to myself. Just ‘cause.” 

Tyler grins. “You talk to yourself a lot?” 

“When I want to have an intelligent conversation,” she responds, and he nearly chokes on a mouthful of coffee. “I mean, have you met the kids in my class? Or my brothers? I have to talk to myself. There’s no other option. And I tell myself, ‘Amelia, no one is going to dull your sparkle!’” 

“No one could EVER dull your sparkle, Millie. No one. You’re a lot like your mom, you know. More than people realize.” 

Esme is all personality as well. For years she’d had to hide it behind a tough, no nonsense exterior; her time in the Corps, the disastrous marriage to Mark, her years on the job spent lying and conning people. She’d never been able to be herself, for one reason or the other. But the true Esme had always been lingering just under the surface; vibrant and carefree, a bit of a wild child, one that loves life and everyone in it and tries to never waste time on regret and ‘what ifs’. Moving back to Australia had brought it all out of her. It had been like meeting her all over again for the first time; she was Esme, but she wasn’t. Even now there are shades of the Dhaka Esme lingering under the surface, but that Esme is no longer in control. The new one has taken over. And seeing those different sides to her...seeing her real personality come out...had made him fall even more in love with her. Which he had thought wasn’t even remotely possible. 

“If you don’t think you can tell yourself stuff like that, I can do it for you,” his daughter offers. “I can tell you that you’re awesome and that you’re brave and strong and that there’s no better daddy in the whole, wide world. Not even in the whole universe.” 

Tyler never thought an almost six-year-old could bring him to his knees, but if he’d been standing, she would have done just that. The words take his breath away; so innocent and pure. So honest. That IS how she sees him. To her, he’s the strongest, bravest man that exists. She doesn’t know just how broken and damaged he actually is, nor does she have any recollection of the birthdays he’s missed or the times he’d left in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. And if she does, she’s forgiven him and holds no grudges. 

“Don’t cry, daddy,” she implores, and she’s climbing into his lap now and taking his face in her hands. “Don’t be sad. Be happy. I’m here.” 

“You have no idea how happy that does make me. That you ARE here.” 

Her eyes sparkly mischievously. “Because I’m your favorite?” 

“I don’t have a favorite. I love all of you.” 

She rubs her palms against his beard, giggling at how it feels against her skin. “It’s okay, daddy. You can tell me. I can keep a secret.” 

Grinning, he combs a hand through her hair, moving it away from her face and pushing it off her shoulders. “You’re my favorite,” he concedes, and presses a kiss to her forehead. 

She gives a brilliant smile; one that wrinkles the corners of her eyes and crinkles the top of her nose. Then wraps her arms around his neck and settles her head on his shoulder. “I knew it.” 

**** 

“I really do want a puppy,” Millie announces three hours later, from where she’s perched upon his shoulders, hands clasped together and forearms folded, resting on top of his head. 

They’d spent nearly two hours in the water; alternating between swimming and surfing, then had joined the rest of their family for a second breakfast. And while Esme, Addie, and Declan went to the neighbors and Kyle took the twins for a ‘guys day, Millie had insisted of spending the day with him. Even if meant doing nothing more than going into town and running errands: picking up baby formula and prescriptions, checking items off a small grocery list, and browsing through stores. Since their talk that morning she’d been clingy; more so than usual, not wanting to let him out of her sight. And he enjoys it; the way she’s so attached to him. Even the way she can talk him into doing just about anything for her. Possessing the innate ability to get him out of his comfort zone without him even realizing he’s doing it. 

“What kind of puppy?” Tyler asks, shopping bags on one hand, free arm across her legs to keep her in place. 

“I dunno. A cute one. A fluffy one. Really fluffy. Like a little bear. But not as mean and big when it grows up.” 

“We already have Mac,” he reminds her. 

“Mac needs a friend.” 

“He has you and your brothers and your sister.” 

“A furry friend. Like him.” 

“He does, does he?” 

Millie nods. “Maybe for my birthday?” 

“You never know.” 

He and Esme had already made the decision; picking out –and paying for- an Australian shepherd that could picked up the morning of the big day. A friendly –albeit extremely hyper- little thing with enormous blue eyes and a playful disposition. The breeder had asked for a name so the puppy could get used to it and recognize it in the home, and without hesitation he’d said ‘Saju’. It seemed fitting; that man had been strong and loyal to the bitter end. 

“I’m going to be six, you know,” Millie says. 

“I know. I was there when you were born, remember?” 

“Did mommy cry? When I was born?” 

“What is your obsession with people crying when you were born?” 

“Mommy and I watched The Baby Story on Netflix. Everyone on that show cries when their baby is born. Did mommy?” 

“Mommy cries at sad commercials. Of course she cried when you were born.” 

“Was she sad?” 

“Why would she be sad? She was happy. And relieved. Because you were healthy and made it safe and sound. It was a lot of hard work, you know. Keeping you inside of her as long as she could. Couple times we didn’t think you’d make it that far. That you’d arrive a lot sooner.” 

“Like Addie?” 

Tyler nods. 

“Addie’s super tiny! But she’s tough. And when she squeezes my finger, she squeezes really hard! When she’s older, I’m going to teach her to fight. So no boys pick on her.” 

“How about you not teach her to fight and you just beat up whoever picks on her.” 

“Like a bodyguard?” 

“Exactly.” 

“I can do that. Keep the boys away from her. Because boys suck!” 

Tyler smirks. “I’m a boy. I don’t suck.” 

“That’s different. You’re daddy. You’re a boy, but you’re not.” 

“What happened to that Ryan kid?” 

“We broke up,” she sighs. “I was sad at first, but mommy said there’s lot of other fish in the pond and I should keep fishing until I find the right one. Even if I have to fish until I’m a lot older. And she said I should never lower my standards.” 

“She’s a pretty smart lady that mommy of yours.” 

“She is. You’re lucky daddy. That she loves you. ‘Cause she’s crazy cute and crazy smart and lots of boys want someone who is crazy cute and crazy smart.” 

“Yeah? What boys? I want name so I can beat them up.” 

“Don’t be jealous just ‘cause boys like her. Appreciate it. They like her, but she likes you.” 

“You know, you’re awful smart for just about six.” 

“I know,” she giggles. “Cute like daddy, smart like mommy.” 

“That’s exactly it.” 

He stops at the truck to put the bags in the back and they continue on. Taking her to the pet store, where she ‘ooos and awws’ over the wall to wall tanks of various sizes and colors of fish, giggles at the antics of the birds and the hamsters, and gets to pet the kittens and a hedgehog the workers bring out for her to see. But she’s most intrigued by a large tarantula and the snakes. The kid that doesn’t panic when the Huntsmen spiders get into the house or someone finds a snake curled up and hiding in the toe of one of their shoes. She’s calm and composed while everyone else –aside from him- if losing their minds and Esme is threatening to burn the place down. 

They go for ice cream next; in a candy shop very similar to the one they used to frequent in Telluride. Millie never talks about Colorado or about their old home; almost as if those times never even existed and she’d been in Australia from day one. Her developing accent is stronger than the other kids’ and every day he hears her voice changing more and more; filling him with a sense of pride that he can’t quite explain. 

He sees the way people react to them together; the smiles and the passing comments they get, especially from women. It’s the visual, he supposes. Someone his height and his size catering to a little girl in pig tails and a flamingo patterned sundress. 

“Why do girls like big muscles?” Millie asks, as they sit at table on the outdoor patio; kneeling in her seat in order to reach her bowl of ice cream. 

“I don’t know,” Tyler replies. “Who likes big muscles?” 

“Lots of girls. Mommy does. She likes YOUR big muscles.” 

“Mommy knows a good thing when sees it, I guess.” 

“I see the way girls look at your muscles. How they look at YOU. I hate it. It’s gross. You’re my dad. I don’t want them thirsty bitches looking at you.” 

He frowns. “Amelia...” 

“I know...I know...bad language...sorry. But it’s true. I don’t want girls looking at my dad like that. You’re already married. To mommy.” 

“Yeah, and I’m going to stay married to mommy. Doesn’t mean other girls can't look. Just means they can’t touch.” 

“’Cause mommy will throat punch them.” 

Tyler nods. “Exactly.” 

“And don’t want Salena looking at you like that either. I don’t appreciate her touching you. Touching your arm. That made me mad.” 

“You need to relax.” 

“Don’t tell me to relax.” 

He can’t help but laugh. “You sounded exactly like your mother just then,” 

“She shouldn’t have touched you,” Millie continues her rant. “Only mommy should. Because you’re daddy and she’s mommy and you should only touch each other.” 

“That’s a very good point. You don’t like her? Salena?” 

“I dunno,” Millie shrugs. “I guess she’s okay. It just made me mad. When she touched you.” 

“It’s no big deal. Mommy said it was okay.” 

“I don’t care. It was wrong and you can’t convince me otherwise. Do you want other guys touching mommy?” 

Tyler scowls. “Do they?” 

“That’s not the question. Do you? Want other guys touching her?” 

“There better not be other guys touching her.” 

“Mommy would never let them touch her. Only you’re allowed to touch her.” 

“Have other guys tried? Have you seen them try?” 

“Daddy, you’re missing the whole point,” she sighs in exasperation. “Do you, or don’t you? Sheesh.” 

“I’ll more than throat punch any guy that touches your mother.” 

“Well then no girl should touch you either. It’s only fair.” 

“You know, you are way too smart for your own good.” 

“It’s common sense!” Millie reasons. “I’m going to tell her when I see her. That she’s not allowed to touch you ever again. Or else.” 

“How about you stop being such a bad ass and mind your business,” Tyler suggests. 

“You’re my dad. You ARE my business.” 

“Why don’t you like her?” he asks once more. “Other than the whole touching me thing.” 

“It’s not that I don’t like her...I just...” she sighs and allows the words to trail off. 

Tyler watches her at he eats his own ice cream; patiently waiting for her to continue. Recognizing that intense, deep in thought expression on her face. It’s one he’s seen many times in the mirror. Esme had called it ‘frowny eyebrows’. 

“I don’t trust her,” Millie finally says. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, she shrugs, and licks ice cream off the end of her spoon. “I just don’t. Do you?” 

“I’m trying to,” he admits. 

“Maybe you don’t trust her for a reason. Maybe you don’t know what it is either.” 

“Or I’m just paranoid.” 

“No. That’s not it. Mommy says you have really good...” her eyebrows pinch together once more as she struggles to remember the word. 

“Instincts?” Tyler offers. 

“Yeah! That’s it. Instincts. That’s what mommy said. Those are good things to have, yeah?” 

“Most of the time.” 

“So maybe they said not to trust her, and you need to listen to them.” 

He chuckles. “I don’t know what kind of ‘grow up juice’ they’re giving you at school, but I think you need to lay off it. There’s no way you’re only five.” 

“Excuse you, I’m almost six.” 

“Sorry. Almost six. You sure you’re not more like sixty?” 

“Just six. But six means I’m getting bigger. That I’m growing up.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

“I can’t stay little forever, daddy. No matter how much you want me to. One day I’m going to get married and you’re going to have to give me away.” 

Tyler frowns. “Are you intentionally trying to depress me or...?” 

“I’m just saying. It’s sad. That mommy’s daddy didn’t get to do that when she married you.” 

“He died a long time before I ever met your mom. She was just a teenager.” 

“But even though he’s dead, he’s still my grandpa, yeah?” 

Tyler nods. 

“And your dad is my grandpa too. But I don’t get to see him. Even though he’s still alive. Mommy said he’s sick. Will I catch it if I go see him?” 

“It’s not that kind of sick. You can’t catch it.” 

She pouts. “I don’t remember him.” 

“You were just a baby the last time I took you there. Did you want to see him?” 

“Yeah...I guess...I mean, he’s my grandpa. Will he remember me?” 

“Probably not. It’s been a long time since he last saw you.” 

“When we moved away when I was a baby. Maybe you could take me there. To see him. So he can see what I look like now.” 

“If you want to go and see him, I’ll take you. But...” 

She arches an eyebrow, spoon in her mouth as she waits for him to continue. 

“...he doesn’t remember who I am, either. Some days he does, some days he doesn’t. It might be a good day for him, might be a bad day.” 

“Because he’s sick? Is his brain sick.” 

“Yup. That’s exactly it” 

“Which means we can’t even bring him popsicles and chicken noodle soup. Those always make me feel better when I’m sick.” 

“He might like them, but they don’t help.” 

“Hmmm...” her eyes focus on the snack in front of her, spoon swirling around in the now melted remnants of ice cream; bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “...but it might cheer him up. To see me.” 

“It could,” Tyler agrees. 

“And maybe he can come to my birthday party.” 

“What birthday party?” He inquires, and she gives him a sly smile, spoon poised against her lips. 

“Amelia.” 

“Daddy,” she responds, using the exact same tone. 

“What birthday party?” 

“Mommy said I had to talk to you about it. And then you could talk to her.” 

“About...” 

“Okay....so....” she scoops the last of the melted ice cream into her mouth and then ducks under the table, resurfacing beside him and scrambling into his lap. “...I thought it would be really fun if the whole class could come over.” 

“To our house?” 

She nods enthusiastically. 

“That’s a lot of kids.” And a lot of parents that will likely stick around. Each of them complete strangers. In the one place he holds most sacred and where he feels the most at ease. And he can feel the anxiety building at the mere thought of it. 

“We have lots of room,” she reasons. “And a big beach and lots of water. None of my other friends have any of that. It would be really fun. A beach party.” 

“And you’re sure that’s what you want to do? You don’t want to go to the amusement park or to go the koala sanctuary or...?” 

“I like home the best. It’s the most fun. Mommy said to talk you about it.” 

“She did, did she?” 

Millie nods. “I know you don’t like lots of people around, daddy. It’s because of the bad guys, right?” 

“You don’t worry about that stuff, okay?” He offers her the last spoonful of his ice cream and she happily accepts it. “Those things aren’t for little people to worry about.” 

“But you’re my daddy,” she reasons. “So I worry about you.” 

“I know. And I appreciate it and I love you for it. But you’re five...” 

“Almost six!” she interjects. 

“...and you need to worry about kid stuff. Not about that crap. And you really want to have you friends over for your birthday?” 

“I do.” 

“I’ll talk to your mom and we’ll make it happen. I’ll deal with my own shit.” 

Millie giggles. “You said no bad language today, daddy.” 

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Fuck.” 

“Daddy!” she erupts into giggles. “That even worse language!” 

“You going to rat on me to your mom?” 

“I’d never rat on you. Unless some other girl touches you. Then I will tell mommy for sure.” 

“You’re touching me right now,” he points out. 

“That’s different. I’m allowed.” 

“Says who?” 

“You’re my dad. You helped make me. I still don’t understand how though. How’d you help? How’d you get me in mommy’s tummy?” 

“I just did. You don’t need to know how.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so. Ready to go?” 

“Ready!” she chirps, and then wriggles her way around to his back; wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso. 

“You’re choking me,” he gasps and gags dramatically 

“Sorry,” Millie laughs, and he waits until she once more gets herself up onto his shoulder, hands tightly gripping his hair as he stands up. “Don’t drop me!” she pleads. “You’re a giant and I’ve got a long way to fall!” 

“Your hard head will protect you,” he assures her. 

“I don’t have a hard head. That’s mean, daddy. Let’s go to the dollar store!” she declares, as he tosses the empty bowls and dirty spoons into the trash. 

“No way. I take you in there, I’m stuck there for hours.” 

“I need craft paper. And glitter.” 

“For what?” 

“Birthday invitations. I want to make my own. You can help.” 

“That’s more your mother’s thing.” 

“Mommy does enough. You can help.” 

“Millie...” 

“Daddy...” she giggles. 

“How do you always manage to talk me into these things?” 

“Because you love me and I’m your favorite.” 

“Fifteen minutes in the store. In and out.” 

“Twenty if the line is long,” Millie haggles. 

“I’m only agreeing to twenty if you use your allowance and buy me a Gatorade. 

She laughs and rests her chin on the top of his head. “Deal.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Hi mommy!” Millie cheerfully greets, as Esme journeys towards where her daughter sits on the shoreline, clad in one of her many bathing suits, head and most of her face covered by an oversized floppy sunhat. She’s the happiest when by –or right in- the water; calm and relaxed, that edge she always seems to carry softened and almost nonexistent. 

The ocean is a powerful antidote for all that ails you. Even Esmee finds the mere sound of the waves and the smell of the salt that hangs in the air helps in easing the burden of the stress and worries that she often carries. And as beautiful as they are and how majestic the view from her back deck had been, that’s a feat even the mountains had never been able to accomplish. 

“What are you doing?” she inquires, as she crouches down beside Millie, the little girl turning her face up for a kiss. 

“Just stuff,” Millie replies, and turns a bucket of wet sand upside, adding it to the ‘castle’ that she’s already constructed. “Daddy said to stay here and not to go in the water without him.” 

“And you actually listened? I’m impressed.” 

“Well I don’t want a shark to eat me,” Millie explains, using the back of her sand covered hand to push wayward strands of hair out of her face. “Daddy said that sharks like little girls with blue eyes and light brown hair the best. ‘Cause we taste like watermelon and that’s their favorite.” 

Her mother smirks. “And you actually believed him?” 

“Oh course! Daddy wouldn’t lie. And I’m not taking any chances. I do not want to get eaten by a shark.” 

Esme glances over her shoulder, to where her husband is flat on his back, sprawled out in the middle of blanket; arms loose and relaxed at his sides, sunglasses on. “Is he dead?” 

“God, I hope not,” Mille moans. “’Cause he’s the good cook and I’m getting hungry.” She wipes the sand from her palms onto her thighs, then cautiously lifts the edge of the receiving blanket that protects her baby sister –laying along her mother’s arm- from the brilliant sunshine. “Hi Addie,” she presses a kiss to one tiny foot, followed by the other, then fixes the blanket. “She’s awake. I think she smiled at me.” 

“Well she likes you. You’re her big sister. You’re the one that used to talk to her and read her stories all the time when she was still in my belly. She probably recognizes your voice.” 

“I hope so. And I hope she knows I’m not annoying like the other ones.” 

“Your brothers are not THAT bad.” 

“Oh, yes they are, mommy. I mean, I’d miss them if they weren’t here anymore. But they’re little assholes.” 

“Amelia...” 

“I know,” she sighs dramatically. “Bad language. I’m trying. I really am. It’s so hard though!” 

“Especially when you’re around your dad as much as you are and he has absolutely zero filter left.” 

“He is totally a bad influence,” Millie agrees. “We had fun today. We went shopping and had ice cream and daddy made me buy him two blue Gatorades at the dollar store ‘cause we ended up being in there forty minutes instead of twenty. But I had to get glitter and paper so...” she shrugs. “He’s going to help me make birthday invitations.” 

“He actually agreed to that?” 

“Yup,” she sounds so much like her father, even with that one simple word. “He’ll do anything I want. Anything.” 

“Except wear the tiara.” 

“Oh, it’ll happen. He will wear the tiara. And I’m going to take a picture when he does and you’re going to put it on your Instagram.” 

“I don’t think he’ll like that.” 

“Oh well. He put the video of you up when you were sleeping and he gave you the wet willy.” 

“That’s right. He did.” 

“It’s only fair, mommy. He did you dirty. Now you have to do the same to him. I think you deserve revenge.” 

“You know what I think?” Esme reaches under the hat to tuck hair behind Millie’s ears. “I think you’re an evil genius.” 

“I don’t know if I’m evil, but I’m definitely a genius. You know,” she appears pensive for a moment. “Now that I think about it, I must be adopted.” 

Esme laughs. “You’re a little savage.” 

“I learn from the best,” Millie declares, then frowns as she notices her mother’s choice in foot apparel. “Mommy, what the hell? Why are you wearing socks on the beach?” 

“I don’t like the sand between my toes. You know that.” 

“That is just weird.” 

“I swear, if you start sounding or acting any more like your father...” 

“I’m sorry. His DNA was stronger. It’s not my fault. It’s why I’m so awesome.” 

“You definitely need to stop listening to him so much,” she lifts the brim of the hat and presses a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before standing up and wandering over to where her husband lies. “Are you alive?” she asks, digging her toes into his side, right between two of his ribs. “You better be because I haven’t gotten the chance to renew your life insurance policy yet.” 

“What you would you get?” he responds. “Twenty bucks?” 

“Twenty bucks?” she scoffs and settles down on the blanket besides him; placing Addie on his chest and stretching her legs out in front of her. “That’s generous. That’s ten more than what they offered.” 

Tyler smirks. “Well one thing’s for sure. I can at least die knowing you didn’t marry me for money.” 

“We had like what? A few hundred bucks between the both of us when you got out of the hospital? It’s safe to say neither of us were in it for financial gain.” 

It had been incredibly easy to blow through nearly every cent either of them had in the bank, including whatever had been sitting in savings. The first two weeks after Dhaka had been spent in a hospital in Mumbai, and Nik had refused to cough up the money to even cover a small part of the bill, citing that she couldn’t access private funds within the company, and there simply wasn’t anything left from the first and only payment they’d received from Mahajan Senior. In the end, neither Tyler nor Esme had received a penny from the Dhaka job, adding insult to grievous injury. Even transport to Australia had to be paid for out of pocket, and it had wiped out both of their checking accounts. 

Their start to their new life had been rough; a new apartment with barely any furniture in it, two months of inpatient therapy with only weekend visits home allowed, a baby on the way. All while still trying to get to know each other outside of those five days in the dirty hotel room in Dhaka. But they’d gotten through it; every fight brought on by frustration, disappointment, and pain. Every harsh word spoken out of guilt and regret. Every time they didn’t know how they’d be able to put food on the table or properly take care of a baby once she arrived. But things slowly started getting better. Her old boss had contacted her saying she was owed a large chunk of money for previous work she’d done for him, even though she’d known full well it was just generous gift on his behalf. Then a check had come in the mail from Saju’s wife. Enough to cover six months' worth of rent and still have some left over. They’d never found out how she even knew who they were, let alone how she tracked them down. 

To this day, they’ve never actually spoken or met face to face. But once every three months an email arrives from Neysa, complete with pictures of her now teenage boy and an update on how they’re doing. No mentions of whereabouts; even behind bars, Mahajan Senior has a lot of pull in not just Mumbai, but all of India. His influences stretch far and wide, and almost seven years later, Saju’s inability to get Ovi away from Tyler and his eventual death is still viewed as a catastrophic failure. It didn’t matter that his son had been rescued from Asif or brought home safely. Or that lives had been lost and others altered forever. Even Tyler, despite stepping up and giving Ovi a relatively normal life and the family that he both wanted and deserved, is regarded as an enemy. He was the one that stood in Saju’s way, after all, and more than once through the years Mahajan Senior has commented: “you don’t know how to die, do you”. 

**** 

“I think if we got through that first year intact, we can get through anything,” Esme comments. 

“That was a pretty shitty twelve months,” Tyler agrees, as he lays his palm on Addie’s back and wraps an arm around his wife’s waist, hand coming to rest on her hip. “There was some good stuff too. I mean, we got married and had Millie. But for the most part...” 

“It was pure crap,” she finishes for him, and he nods. “But now look!” she cheerfully exclaims. “If anyone had have told you back then that this is where we’d be now, would you have believed them? That we would have gotten this far? Everyone was against us. Everyone. Nik, most of my family. And we’re the ones getting the last laugh. We’re the ones that are still together while their lives are shit. Is it wrong how happy that actually makes me? That we get to sit back and watch their lives fall apart?” 

“Maybe a little bit wrong,” he says with a grin. “But I get it. There’s someone I wish was still here so I could rub it in their face.” 

“Gaspar?” 

He nods. 

“He did not like me for some reason. Kept calling me ‘that girl’ or ‘the girl’ even when I was in the room. What was up with that? I mean, other than the fact he was a complete sociopath.” 

Tyler shrugs. “He was just protective I guess.” 

He doesn’t want to talk about it; Gaspar, the ten million dollars offer to give up her and Ovi. It still haunts him; how calm and callous the other man had been about the whole thing. As if it wasn’t two human beings that he was willing to sacrifice for the almighty dollar. And he knows he’ll never tell her. The whole truth behind what had happened that night. What good would it do? Telling her that she’d come dangerously close to being thrown at Asif’s feet. The outcome would have been horrific; rape, torture, unbelievable abuse and cruelty. It’s bad enough that those thoughts still plague him. She doesn’t need them weighing her down. And he’s thankful when she changes the subject. 

“She wore you out, didn’t she,” Esme comments, a hand over her eyes; sheltering them from the sun as she watches Millie happily playing in the surf. 

“She’s like having ten kids rolled into one. I’m starting to understand why her teacher is so tired at the end of the day. Millie plus twenty others?” 

“Twenty? There’s thirty kids in her class.” 

“What the fuck? Thirty?” 

“Look, things have changed since you used to travel by horse and buggy to your one room schoolhouse.” 

“You know what...” he slides his hand up to her side, then pinches the sensitive spot below her ribs. 

“Ow! You shit head!” Esme cries, and then shrieks when his fingers did in just above the hip. Aggressively tickling her until she’s flat on her back; kicking and squirming and squealing for mercy. Laughing until she succumbs to loud, painful hiccups. “You’re a dick!” she dramatically pouts and directs an elbow into his side; still allowing him to draw her tightly against him, a hand coming to rest on the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her temple. “You almost made me pee myself,” she complains, as she rests her head on his shoulder and places her hand over his as its sits on Addie’s back. 

“That’s what you get for making an old man joke.” 

“I hear that getting extremely sensitive about aging is the first sign of senility,” she teases, and places a kiss just below ear, then to the scar on the side of his neck. And she pulls back to look at it, tracing a finger over the surface. 

It’s almost seven years old now but has just begun to appear not as dark or swollen. It will always be there; no matter much if softens. A lasting reminder of how close to death he’d actually come. Even now there are days where she can barely stand to look at it; filled with either immense sorrow or rage. And others where she feels nothing at all. Where it’s nothing more than one of the various battle wounds that take up residence on his body. She knows every single one and the stories behind them; able to find them with and trace them with her eyes closed. 

“It’s really starting to change,” she comments, and then lays her hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her, kissing him softly. 

“It doesn’t both you are much anymore.” It’s more a statement than a question. 

“It never bothered me because of what it looks like. It’s never been about that. It bothered me because of what it represents.” 

“You and I do not like at the same way. It reminds you of the end. Or what was almost the end. It reminds me of the beginning.” 

She smiles at that and leans in to nuzzle the tip of his nose against his ear. Closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against his cheek, his hand moving from the small of her back to the nape of her neck and then higher; kissing her as he combs his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face and off her shoulders. 

“You guys aren’t making babies, are you?!” Millie calls, her voice dripping with disgust. “I do not want another brother!” 

Tyler chuckles. “This is not how babies are made,” he assures her. “Sometimes it starts out like this and then leads to babies being made.” 

His wife scowls. “Don’t touch her things. What’s wrong with you? Amelia, we talked about this. It is not possible to have any more babies. Your dad got neutered.” 

“What the fuck?” Tyler mutters. “Don’t tell her that.” 

“What do you want me to tell her? You got the snip and had to lie on the couch for two days with a bag of frozen peas on your crotch?” 

“You know how you always threaten me with sleeping on the couch? You keep pushing your luck, you’re going to end up there.” 

“A full eight hours without you snoring or talking in your sleep? Sign me up. Awww...baby...” she gives a dramatic pout and places a series of kisses along his jaw. “...did I hurt your feelings? Did I upset your delicate sensibilities? I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

“I can think of one way that I’ll accept.” 

“We only do that once a year. It’s not our anniversary yet. So no, not going to happen. Anything other than THAT.” 

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Anything?” 

“I don’t like that look you get when you ask that.” 

“You trust me?” he asks. 

“I’m not sure right about now.” 

“Just trust me. I’ll go easy on you. I promise.” 

She frowns. “You’re not even going to tell me what it is?” 

“Nope. You’ll find out. Once the kids go to bed. It’s not that bad, I swear. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you or freak you out. It’s tame. For me, anyway.” 

“Even at your tamest you’re dirty. With a capital D, so...” 

“Trust me,” Tyler implores, then gives her a long, slow kiss before sitting up; one hand on the back of Addie’s head, the other on her bum. Grimacing at the pain that settles in his shoulder and the stiffness in his back. Some days it’s bearable; he can get by without popping any pain meds and time in the water or even standing under a hot shower is all the help her needs. Other days he can barely get out of bed and there isn’t enough medication in the world to even take the edge of. The lasting and crippling souvenir of a hard, punishing life. 

“You need to go and get that checked,” Esme scolds, as she kneels behind him, a palm pressed between his shoulders as she digs the fingers of the other hand into the most troublesome spot: to the right of the spine, on the edge of the shoulder blade. She doesn’t even need to ask anymore. She just knows. Every spot that aches, every trigger point that send pain and numbness shooting his entire arm and settling into his fingers. 

“I probably should have gotten it checked when we first moved here.” 

“You think, Tyler? You really think? You know what I think? I think we’ve far surpassed it just being a separated shoulder.” 

“A fucked up shoulder is more like it,” he says through gritted teeth, then stretches his legs out in front of him and places Addie on his thighs. 

“You were supposed to take it easy after the replacement surgery. Not go back to what caused all of the damage in the first place.” 

“I don’t need to hear this.” 

“Well, you’re going to hear it.” She wraps her arm around his neck, resting it along his collarbone as she digs her thumb into the most sensitive and painful area of the muscle. Causing a litany of profanities to spill from his mouth; loud enough for Millie to stop what she’s doing and glance over her shoulder, a concerned frown on her face. “Why did you wait so long?” Esme sighs. “I told you when you got back from New Zealand to go and have it looked at.” 

“I just thought it was separated,” he speaks through clenched teeth, his eyes closed. “Then I thought maybe it was just the arthritis flaring up. Now...” 

“Something is totally fucked in there. I can feel something moving around. And there’s a lot of clicking and popping going on. You’re probably going to need surgery. Again.” 

“Okay Miss Negativity. I don’t need to hear this.” 

“You’re going to hear it, you stubborn shit head. What are you going to do if it gives out while you’re training Ovi? Or worse. When you go and rescue his sorry ass. Then what?” 

“First, I’m going to dope myself up and hope for the best. Second, there’s no guarantee that I’m going to have go and bail him out of trouble. Let’s just get past the first part, yeah?” 

“You’re going to pass the first part because you didn’t go and get your shoulder looked at when you should have. You need to stop worrying about everyone else and take care of yourself for a change.” 

“That’s rich. You of all people saying that. Okay....stop...stop...fuck...” he drops his head to his chest; sweat beats across his forehead and trickles down his temples. 

“Are you okay?” She leans in and pecks his cheek. “You look like you’re going to puke.” 

“I feel like I’m going to puke.” 

“Seriously, Tyler, you need to go and get looked at. I’m not fucking around. Enough is enough. Stop being so...I don’t know...so YOU.” Heaving a sigh, she sits down beside him one again, one hand rubbing his back comfortingly, the other softly stroking his thigh. “Go and get it check,” she begs. “Please.” 

“Nothing can be done about it right now anyway. It would have to wait until the shit with Ovi is done. Then I’ll go. As soon as it’s finished.” 

“You better. Because I’m not above being the kind of wife that makes your doctor's appointments for you. You’re worse than the kids sometimes, I swear. They actually listen better than you do.” 

“I know. I’m a pain in the ass.” 

“Huge. A huge pain in the ass,” she concedes, then tousles his hair. “Did you know Kyle didn’t come home last night?” 

He removes the receiving blanket from Addie’s face, smiling down at her as he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t know he lived here now.” 

“He walked Salena home and never came back. Not until you and Millie left to go into town. You know what that means?” 

“He got more action than I did last night?” 

“It means that there’s trouble in paradise. Or hell. However you want to look at him and Nik.” 

“I don’t look at them at all, so...” 

“What is the hold she has on you guys? We’ve established she’s not good in bed. She doesn’t give head so it’s not that either. She doesn’t even have big boobs or a nice ass.” 

“First, she doesn’t have a hold on me. She never has. She was there if I wanted it. That’s it. No strings attached. I’d fuck her, she’d leave. That’s as far as it went. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“Were your standards that low?” 

“I was taking Oxy with booze. What do you think?” 

“I think I came along at the right time.” 

Tyler nods in agreement. 

“You have to admit, Kyle is way too good for her.” 

“Don’t drag me into this. I don’t care what either of them do. He wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. Who gives a shit? Don’t take it so personally. Do I think it’s fucked he’d hook up with someone that cause shit between us? Of course, I do. But if he's that stupid, he deserves to be miserable.” 

“We’d be related to her,” Esme points out. 

“And? We’d never have to see her. You think they’d come here all the time or something? Nik would never settle down here. Ever. Trust me.” 

“Kyle wants to. Settle down here.” 

“He’d never win against her. Stop worrying so much her so much. Yeah, she caused a lot of shit. Or tried to. But it didn’t work and us being together and being happy and having a family? That’s the best revenge against her. Your brother’s a big boy. Let him do what he wants. You can’t stop him from fucking up his life. 

“He’s my brother.” 

“And? Your brother knowingly got with someone who tried to ruin your life. If you ask me, he deserves whatever shit show he gets with Nik.” 

“But...” she runs her fingertips along the top of his hand, then along the smooth metal of his wedding band. “...if we could get him hooked up with Salena....” 

“I’m not getting him hooked up with anyone. Leave me out of this. You shouldn’t even be involved in this. We’re adults for fuck sake. Can we concentrate on our own relationship and our kids? Because those two things are all that matters to me.” 

“I didn’t realize we were having problems to concentrate on.” 

“Did I say there were problems? Other than I think you should mind your own business? Stop...” he drapes his arm across her shoulder and pulls her into him, kissing her temple. “...let’s just worry about what us and what goes on in our own house. Who cares what your brother is doing or who he’s doing it with. He can handle his own shit. He does not need you getting involved.” 

“I just think...” 

“Esme...” 

“...that he...” 

“Stop,” he gently orders, then tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her into a kiss. Longer time and more intense; closed mouth upon closed mouth. And the tip of his tongue just brushes against her top lip before he pulls away. 

“Okay...” she sighs, and grins when she feels him kiss the tip of her nose. “...that was...nice...” 

“Nice? Just nice?” 

“Well I can’t show you just HOW nice because there’s little people here. But trust me. It was better than nice.” 

“Just let it go. This thing with Nik and your brother. If he fucks up, he fucks up. He’ll learn his lesson. Let’s just concentrate on us.” 

“I hate to break it too you, honey, but if we haven’t been able to concentrate on just us in almost six years. Five kids, remember? Do we even exist outside of being parents anymore? Because I don’t remember the last time it was ‘just us’. And I’m not talking about sex, for the record. So let’s not get into that conversation again. When is the last time we actually went somewhere without out kids?” 

“Well it was just you and I in the bathroom this morning while I took a leak and you brushed your teeth.” 

“That was a really nice three minutes of connecting with you, I must say. I’ll see you again in another what? Five, six years?” 

“You wanted a big family. I was fine with three.” 

“Pardon me? You’re the one who wanted a fourth and a fifth. You’re the one who talked me into it, remember? You wanted a half dozen kids and a stay at home wife and I was more than willing to give you what you wanted. So don’t start with that.” 

“That means there’s one more to go if we agreed to half a dozen.” 

“Oh no!” she laughs. “Don’t you even dare. I am done. I am babied out. You want another one, you go find yourself a second wife to give you more kids. Because this wife is done.” 

“One more wouldn’t hurt.” 

“It would hurt my vagina, okay. It’s seen five kids already. It’s a hot mess down there.” 

“A SEXY hot mess,” he grins, and nudges her playfully with his elbow. 

“You are like the most biased husband on the planet and I love you so fucking much for it,” she wraps her arm around his neck and presses a noisy kiss to his cheek. “No wonder I keep you. You do wonders for my ego.” 

“So one more?” He hopefully attempts. 

“You’re insane. Why would you go and get the operation done and then decide three months later you made a mistake? Why didn’t you just hold off until after Addie and then we had this discussion?” 

“I thought we were done. That was it. Five.” 

“Because we agreed we were done. And now you’re changing your mind. Just like you did when Declan was supposed to be the last one. What is wrong with you? What is this overwhelming obsession to breed?” 

“It’s not an obsession. I just...I don’t know...” he shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the hem on Addie’s sundress. “...I just want to leave something good behind when I go, I guess.” 

“And you’ve made five very good things. Five very beautiful and healthy and incredible things. So why...?” 

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just wouldn’t mind one more. Even it out.” 

“She’s only three weeks old,” Esme reminds him. 

“I didn’t say I want one right now. I mean eventually. A year from now. Two years from now.” 

“That is not what you’re thinking, and I can tell. That is not what’s going on in your head, Tyler. This started as soon as all this Ovi crap came about. As soon as you agreed to get back into things, you started thinking about this, didn’t you.” 

“Maybe...” 

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” She combs her fingers through his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek. “That beautiful, troubled mind.” 

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits.“I just thinking about if things go wrong...if I have to help Ovi and things just get even worse...what have I left behind? Did I do enough? Did my life mean anything?” 

“Your life means so much more than you think. To me. To your kids. Don’t ever doubt that, please. You will have left so much behind. You helped make five amazing little human beings. Who adore you and worship you and think you’re the most amazing man in the entire world. And you know what?” She curls both arms around one of his “I think you are most amazing, beautiful man in the world, too. You don’t realize it, but you saved me just as much as I saved you. Don’t ever doubt how important you are to me. Or your kids. Okay?” 

He nods and places a kiss to her brow before resting his forehead against hers. Sometimes even the biggest and the strongest need to feel appreciated and validated. Even if they’d never admit it out loud. 

“And as far as this sixth kid thing goes, can you give me at least a few months? Because right now I’m worn out and sometimes I don’t even know if I can handle the five I already have.” 

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty fucking amazing.” 

“You really are the most biased husband on the planet,” she grins. 

“It doesn’t make it less true. And speaking of five kids, where’s The Ginger?” 

“He didn’t want to come home from Salena’s and I was not dealing with the tantrum that would have ensued if I’d have forced him. You might be able to carry him all the way from there to here, but he’s damn heavy and I’m not even attempting it. I told her that you’d come and get him after dinner.” 

Tyler groans. “You’re going to send me over there? Do you know what I had to deal with yesterday when she came by here? Twice? Do you know she was checking out my dick?” 

“She told me. She’s hardly shy in case you haven’t noticed. She wanted to know how I haven’t been split in two yet.” 

“Jesus Christ...” 

“What? Sometimes I wonder myself. Are you blushing? Holy shit. Is Tyler Rake blushing? I’ve seen it all now. You’re not usually like this. You usually don’t mind when a woman checks you out.” 

“They’re usually not checking out my dick and my wife isn’t usually talking to them about my dick, so...” 

“Baby, just so you know, I brag about every part of you. Not just your dick. Did Kyle call?” 

“That was a weird transition. Why does he talk about my dick too?” 

“I’d be very worried and disturbed if he did. I was wondering where our other children are. If he’s actually surviving out there somewhere with them or if you turned off your cell so he wouldn't call for help...” 

“He left a voicemail. Said he’d have them home before bedtime. I said to keep them for a few days but...” he shrugs. “...he didn’t agree to that. Sorry. I tried.” 

“You know what means? For the first time since Declan was born, testosterone is not in charge of the house. Now it’s estrogen. Oh my God, you poor man.” 

“You’re not PMS’ing, so I’m okay. I’ve survived almost seven years of that shit every month. I can survive one night.” 

“We’ll see about that,” she gives him a wink, then places her hands on his shoulders to help push herself up onto her feet. “I’m getting too old for this shit. You’re going to be picking me up and carrying me to the house one of these days. I think I’m falling apart too. Millie!” she calls to her daughter. “Let’s go and cleaned up. Daddy’s taking us out on a date.” 

Tyler grins. “He is, is he?” 

“When you do ever get to go to dinner with two and a quarter beautiful women?” 

“There was this one time in Thailand...” 

“No one wants to hear about your conquests, Tyler. And by no one, I mean me.” 

“Daddy...” Mille stomps over. “...did you see this shit?” she wildly gestures towards her mother’s feet with the plastic shovel in her hand. 

“Millie, just don’t ask. Let your mom be as weird as she wants. I’m used to it.” 

“Socks on the beach!” Millie huffs. “What the hell, mom.” 

Tyler smirks, and clutches Addie to his chest with one hand, offers the other to Millie and lets her think she’s pulling him to his feet. “I bet you’re extra glad my DNA was stronger the day you were made, aren’t you?” 

“So glad,” Millie agrees, and then shrieks when he scoops her effortlessly with one hand, giggling hysterically and her legs kicking as he tucks her under his arm, carrying her ‘football style’. 

“You know...” Esme muses, as she curls an arm around his waist. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe things will go okay. With Ovi.” 

“They will,” he promises. And hopes that those words sound more convincing to her ears than they do to his own.


	22. Chapter 22

She stands at the kitchen sink, watching through the window as they sit side by side at the patio table. Millie already in her pajamas, hair still damp from a bath, Tyler in a pair of weathered old sweatpants and tattered t-shirt. Their resemblance striking; same color and texture of hair, same ears and profile, even the same shaped lips and those brilliant blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes. She’s her father’s child; even more so than the boys; sharing not only physical appearance, but facial expressions and body language. Even now their faces mirror each other: eyes narrowed, and brows pinched together, mouth set in a thin, stern line. A staring contest and a battle of wills that’s lasted for more than a minute with no sign of either weakening or wavering. Millie strict and demanding over how she wants things done when it comes to her birthday invitations, her father wondering just how the hell he’d managed to get himself into such a mess in the first place. They're both ferociously stubborn; Millie even more so. And she always wins; no one is immune to that mop of hair and those eyes and that little voice. 

Her father is especially weak when it comes to her. An almost six-year-old able to bring a man that size, and who possesses so much strength and power, to his knees. She’s his number one weakness; always balking at scolding her even when she deserves it, succumbing to all the begging and pleading for ‘one more’ bedtime story even though it always turns into five, finding it incredibly hard to say no and very rarely doing so. While his bond with all the kids is strong, the one with Millie is even more so. Perhaps because she’s the first after Austin’s death; a rainbow baby of sorts. Or maybe because she represents the start of his new life; his second chance. A man that had so little to live for suddenly being given everything to live for. She had been conceived in the most unconventional of place during the most unconventional of times. A little blue-eyed miracle that reminds him every day of just how lucky he is to be on this side of the ground. 

“Daddy....I am telling you...” Millie finally speaks, her facial expression never changing and her eyes never wavering from his. “...you HAVE to use the glitter.” 

“But I don’t want to use it. That shit gets everywhere. You do it the way you want. Then your mom can bitch at you for getting it all over the place.” 

“She’ll bitch at you for letting me use glitter without supervision.” 

“I am sitting right here. I am supervising.” 

“But you gotta use it too,” she insists. “Or the cards won’t match.” 

“They don’t have to, Martha Stewart. Relax.” 

“Yes. They do have to match. Why are you being so difficult?” 

“Amelia...” 

She giggles. “Daddy...” 

“You’re not the boss.” 

“Neither are you. You just think you are. Mommy’s the boss. Your boss.” 

Tyler frowns. “Is that what she said?” 

“She doesn’t need to say it. It’s just the way it is. And mommy would tell you to use the glitter too.” 

“You and I both know that’s bullshit. She’d never say that. She hates glitter.” 

“She hates play-doh and slime,” Millie argues. 

“And glitter.” 

“She never said that!” 

“Excuse me? Yes, she did. After your brother got mad at you and dumped a whole container of it in your backpack. Remember? When we still lived at the old house?” 

“Oh yeah,” Millie scowls, then pulls her top lip between her teeth and then releases it with an audible ‘pop’. “...well I guess that means you should be really, really careful with it then.” 

“I guess that means you should get someone else to help. A glitter bitch.” 

“Daddy! That’s a bad word! Why do you have to give me such a hard time? Don’t be like all the other boys in the house. Please don’t.” 

“How would like another brother?” Tyler counters. 

She gives a dramatic gasp. “Why would you do me like that? Isn’t three enough? Why so many boys? Boys are dumb. And annoying. Except you of course.” 

Grinning, he lays a hand on the top of her head and presses a noisy kiss to her temple. “You are so lucky you added that last part.” 

“Why? What would you do? Nothing. Because you love me too much.” 

“You know what?” His voice and face are stern at first, but then a slow grins spreads from ear to ear and he scoops her up and places her in his lap; pressing kisses against her cheeks and rubbing his beard against her skin until she’s giggling and squirming in a half assed attempt to escape; little hands on his cheeks trying to push him away, the squeals becoming even louder when his fingers dig into her stomach and start tickling. 

“What?” Millie asks, when the playful assault ends, and she kneels in his lap facing him; hands delicately cradling his face, a look of pure adoration on her face as she regards him. “What daddy?” 

“Get back in your seat and hand me the goddamn glitter.” 

Esme laughs and then turns away from the window, busying herself with making a tea and a coffee and tidying the kitchen. The house is eerily quiet for only nine at night; both Declan and Addie fast asleep upstairs, Mac curled up under her crib, snoring lightly. Normally the twins are still tearing around. Either tormenting one another or their older sister or burning off the last of their energy in the pool or down on the beach. She misses them; the dirty handprints that she is constantly wiping off every surface, the sand that they track through every inch of the house, those little voices –and even their squabbling- and the way they eventually fall asleep either spread out on the couch with the tops of their heads touching, or on the bottom bunk pressed back to back. 

They’re a handful and have been since day one; a pregnancy filled with complications and scares. But they’re a joy. Rambunctious and mischievous. Fearless to a fault. Always willing to try new adventures, as long as they’re together for them. 

The sun is beginning to set as she steps out onto the patio, and the strings of solar powered white lights wrapped around the patio railings springing to life, bathing the area in a soft, almost soothing glow. And she places the steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of her husband, then lays a hand on the back of his neck and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Despite the outwardly display of confidence and the rare genuine smile that crosses his face, he’s struggling. The last couple of days have been especially rough; medications not enough to take away that edge and that sense of impending doom she knows he’s feeling. It’s so many things: TJ’s troubles, Millie’s rapidly approaching sixth birthday, the situation with Ovi and the very real possibility of having to get back in the game. But he gives her an appreciative smile and lays a hand on her hip; gently squeezing before allowing his hand to lightly slide over her ass. 

“Just what are you guys doing?” she inquires and slips into the chair at the head of the table; a foot on the seat, bottom of her hoodie pulled over her knee. 

“I don’t even know anymore,” Tyler admits. “I just do what I’m told.” 

“We’re making birthday invitations,” Millie says. “Glittery ones.” 

“Yeah...I see that...” Esme frowns, then moves her seat back from the table to avoid any wayward sparkles. “You know that crap is going to be everywhere for weeks, right?” 

“Daddy already has it in his hair,” Millie giggles. “And in his beard.” 

“Because you thought it would be hilarious to dump glitter in your hands and rub them all over my head,” he complains. 

“It was funny!” she exclaims. “You’re going to be sparkly forever now. A sparkly daddy.” 

“Like one of those vampires in Twilight,” Esme muses, and he gives her a dirty look. “Just much more handsome.” 

“I have vampires,” Millie announces. “Daddy could kick their asses.” 

“Damn right,” he agrees. 

“Daddy would kick all the monsters’ asses, right daddy? Like you kicked all the bad guys asses. Do you miss kicking bad guys’ asses?” 

“You know what I miss? I miss when you didn’t say ass every five seconds.” 

“Better than the s word or the f word,” she reasons, and kneels in her chair to reach for plastic container full of pencil crayons sitting in the middle of the table. “Do you? Miss kicking the bad guys’ asses?” 

“Nope,” he quickly replies. “I don’t.” 

Esme knows it isn’t the entire truth; someone just doesn’t give up a job...a life...like the one he’d been leading and not experience some fall out. It’s fast paced and generous; living life constantly on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Days and sometimes weeks of putting your ass on the line to help a stranger; shedding a lot of blood, sweat, and tears for that pay out in the end. The job is exhilarating; every mercenary will admit to that. That there’s a certain rush that comes with the intensity. And most won’t say it out loud, but there’s a feeling of satisfaction you get when you witness revenge and karma up close; even if it means you’re delivering them yourself with your bare hands. 

His entire adult has been that existence. First the military, then the job. And there’s no way he doesn’t miss. It’s quite the change; going from that life to one of routine and domesticity. 

“I bet the bad guys don’t miss you,” Millie muses. “They were tired of getting their asses kicked. But who does it now that you don’t? Who goes after the bad people?” 

“Other guys,” Tyler responds. 

“What other guys?” 

“Guys like me. Who do that sort of thing. There’s lots of guys like that out there.” 

“And girls too?” 

“I guess. I suppose there’s girls out there that do that kind of thing. Mommy did.” 

Esme directs a kick to his shin under the table, then shakes her head when he gives her a quizzical look. 

“Mommy sort of did that job,” he quickly adds. “She helped guys like me out. She helped track down the bad people and then told guys like me where we could find them.” 

“Mmmm...” Millie considers this, head cocked to the side, eyes focused on the drawing she’s creating. “....is that how you met?” 

“Yup. When I used to live here before I had you or your sister or your brothers.” 

“In this house?” 

“Not in THIS house. In my old house. Well it wasn’t really a house. It was more like a shack. But there’s where I met mommy. A long time ago. Auntie Nik brought her there and introduced us.” 

“We should go there sometime,” Millie suggests. “To your old place. To see it. Who lives there now?” 

“A friend of mine. You met him a few times when you were a baby.” 

“I want to go there,” she decides. “To your old place. I want to see where you met mommy. Is that where you helped put me in her tummy?” 

“No. That happened somewhere else,” Esme speaks up. “In an entirely different country. In Bangladesh. A place called Dhaka. Daddy and I were working there. That’s where you were made.” 

“We should go there too,” Millie concludes. 

“Yeah, that’s a no from me,” Tyler says. “That’s not a place I want to go back to.” 

“Is that where you almost died?” 

Esme watches her husband’s face; mug pressed against her lips as she waits for his reaction. Noticing the small intake of breath and the slow, steady way he releases it. The way his shoulders tense and his leg begins to shake back and forth underneath the table. 

“Yeah...” he finally speaks, then turns his attention towards the craft in front of him. His eyes are dark and that vein in his neck...the one that had to be surgically repaired after being blown out by Farhad- begins to pulsate. “...that’s where I almost died.” 

“How?” Millie asks. 

“You know what,” Esme comes to his aid. “This isn’t a good time to talk about these kinds of things. Not so close to bedtime, okay Millie? It will give you nightmares and as much as we love you, we don’t want you sleeping with us until you’re eighteen.” 

“It won’t give me nightmares,” she argues. “I’m fine.” 

“Amelia...” Her tone and her face are stern; the warning in her voice noticeable enough that her daughter looks up at her. “Not right now. Thank you.” 

Silence falls on the table, no further conversation for several minutes. Nothing but the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, the slight rustle of the trees, and the soft scrape of pencil crayons against paper. And Tyler reaches under the table to lay a hand on Esme’s thigh, squeezing lightly and giving her a small, grateful smile. There are days when he can talk openly and honestly about what happened in Dhaka. He was able to tell the therapist the whole story without even breaking a nervous sweat. But there’s other times where it’s unbearable; the memories too strong and too painful. The mental wounds still too fresh and feeling still too raw. 

“Look at you,” Esme laughs, and the lays a hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her. “You have glitter everywhere. It’s all in your beard. It looks like you went down on a stripper. I hope you don’t think you’re coming near my bits looking like that.” 

He grins. “Oh, I so am.” 

“Like hell you are. Last thing I need is being sparkly down there. I don’t know how you’re going to get all that out of there,” she vigorously rubs her palms against her beard, then frowns as she studies the purple and silver flecks left behind on her skin. “It couldn’t at least be a good color that brings out your eyes?” 

“Might have to just shave the whole thing off,” he says. 

“Like hell you will. We’ve talked about this. Do you want a divorce? Because that’s how you get a divorce.” 

“You don’t even know what I look like clean shaven.” 

“You’re not Tyler without a beard. Your kids won’t even recognize you. That's how they know you. That’s how I know you.” 

“Don’t do it, daddy,” Millie implores. “You’ll look totally different. Like a stranger. I want you to look like daddy.” 

“Two against one,” Esme says. “The beard stays.” 

“You only look like the beard because when we do...well when I do...you know... you like the way it feels.” 

“I’ll give you that. But it’s also because it’s rugged and manly and you look so freaking sexy with it. Even with silver and purple glitter in it. Speaking of glitter....” she stands up and picks up on of the finished creations. “...I take it she mentioned her party and you went along with it.” 

“Come on, you knew I wouldn’t say no.” 

“I did,” she admits. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to be completely uncomfortable and miserable, either. That’s a lot of people. Here. In your space. I know how much you value your space. So, if you think it’s too much to deal with...” 

“I’ll be okay,” he says. “I’ll deal.” 

She stares at him pointedly, brows arches. 

“I’ll be fine, babe,” he assures her, and reaches out to lay a hand on the small of her back. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” 

“Daddy’s tough,” Millie declares. “Super tough.” 

“Yes,” her mother agrees. “The toughest guy I’ve ever known, that’s for sure.” 

“Is that why you fell in love with him?” Millie inquires. “Because he’s tough?” 

“There’s a lot of reasons why I fell with him,” Esme replies, as she sits back down in her seat and places her feet in her husband’s lap. “I guess being tough was once of them. Because I knew that I’d always be safe, and I’d have nothing to be scared of when he’s around. That he'd always be willing to protect me and be able to physically do it.” 

Tyler smiles and gives her a wink, his hand giving her foot a squeeze. 

“He also had really cool hair and crazy beautiful eyes,” she continues. “And big arms. Not to mention that face. Pretty damn handsome, I think. He was kind of mean though. When we first met.” 

Millie’s eyes widen as she looks towards her father. “You were mean? To mommy?! Did you make her cry?” 

“I did not make her cry and I was not mean.” 

“Not right away,” Esme says. “But he got really mean and really bossy when we got to Dhaka.” 

“Listen, your mom’s not telling you the truth,” Tyler address his little girl. “I got a little mean, yeah. You want to know why? Because even then your mommy didn’t like to listen to a word I say. And I was in charge and she did something I told her not to and she got in trouble and I got mad.” 

“I just put him in his place though,” Esme says with a shrug as she sips her tea. “That just made him even more mad and even meaner. Deep down though, I think he liked it. A woman being all assertive and aggressive with him.” 

“I’m not afraid to admit that I liked it. I liked it a lot.” 

“That was obvious,” Esme grins, and presses her toes into his crotch. 

“You think I’m tough, Millie? Your mom’s even tougher than I am. Hands down the toughest woman...person...I’ve ever met. She’s little, but she’s bad ass.” 

“Like me!” Millie cheerfully exclaims. 

“You’re exactly like her in a lot of ways. You know how tough someone has to be to trick the bad guys into telling her secrets and letting her know where they are? Crazy tough. When you get older, I’ll tell you a story about how she handled things in Ireland against some pretty scary people. She went in there and talked them all by herself. She wasn’t even scared. Not for a second. I was proud of her. Insanely proud.” 

“Don’t make me cry,” Esme pleads, and gives him a brilliant smile. “Because my hormones are all over the place since having your daughter and I’m liable to bawl at anything.” 

“Mommy’s the most amazing person I’ve ever known,” he continues. “Not a lot of people would do what she did. When she stuck around to help me in Dhaka. No one else was going to do it. I would have died if she hadn’t had been there.” 

“But you didn’t,” Esme says. “And that’s all that matters.” 

She hates being praised for it; truly believing that she’d done what anyone with a conscience and an ounce of compassion would have done in that situation. Ovi had been too young; there’s no way he should have had to spring into action and shoulder that kind of responsibility. But there’d been no excuse for Nik. There were other team members there; they could have easily kept the situation under control while she held; at least lending a hand to control the bleeding long enough to get him into the chopper and get both Ovi AND him out of there. 

And she’ll hold that grudge for the rest of her life; every time the subject of Dhaka comes up or she looks at the scar on her husband’s neck. 

**** 

Ovi arrives just as darkness fully sets in, standing on the bottom step of the patio; cautiously watching them for several minutes, hands shoved in his pockets, nervously rocking back and forth on his heels. 

“You don’t have to just stand there, mate,” Tyler speaks up. “You can join us, you know.” 

The younger man breathes a sigh of relief as he climbs the steps, giving Esme a small, apologetic smile which she returns with a curt one of her own before looking away. Their talk the night before had left a bitter taste in both of their mouths; she’d been harsh and brutally honest and refuses to make any apologies for it. She doesn’t understand how, despite all of the things he’s seen and heard in Dhaka and the years following it, that he can be so steadfast about diving headfirst into such a dangerous life. She’d laid out the hardest of truths she possibly could; the long-lasting effects on Tyler’s mental and physical health, the demons and the monsters that prey on every day, the trickle-down effects and impacts the entire family. Yet he remains determined. Either too stubborn to face the truth, or too just immature and ignorant. 

“Millie, why don’t we go inside and get a bedtime snack,” Esme suggests, when Ovi steps up onto the patio, finishing the last of her tea and pushing her chair away from the table. “You can finish these tomorrow, okay? I think daddy’s had just about as much glitter and coloring he can take.” 

“Okay,” she willingly –and surprisingly- agrees. “You’ll still tuck me in right, daddy?” 

“You know it. Just come and get me when you’re ready, yeah?” 

Nodding, she curls an arm around his neck and sweetly pecks his lips. Then scurries over to Ovi and wraps her arms around his, tightly squeezing. 

“I can’t deal with this tonight,” Esme says, when Tyler catches her by the wrist before she can leave, a concerned and almost puzzled look on his face. “I don’t want to deal with it all. You do what you have to do. I don’t want to hear any more about it.” 

He nods in understanding, and she leans down to press a soft, quick kiss to his lips before ushering Millie into the house. 

“I think she’s still mad,” Ovi comments, as he drops into a chair at the end of the table. 

“Really?” Tyler scoffs. “What gave you that impression?” 

Standing, he begins tidying up the table, stuffing pencil crayons, glue sticks, and tubes of sparkles into small plastic storage containers. A far cry from when his hands used to inflict pain and even death on others; glitter caked under his nails and stuck to his fingers as opposed to blood and dirt. And it horrifies him how disappointed he feels over the thought; how blood seemed so much better and easy to accept than a child’s craft supplies. It’s not the first time in six months he’s missed what things were like before, and he knows it won’t be the last. That it will always be there; that side of him that had actually enjoyed the job and the payday that came with. 

And it fucking disgusts him. 

“I understand why she’s upset,” Ovi says. 

Tyler regards him, eyebrow arched. “Do you? ‘Cause I don’t think you do.” 

“She doesn’t want you getting back into this. Into that job. Into the job. Because if what happened in New Zealand.” 

“Do you even understand what went on there? Why I left? Why I called it quits and came home? Because something tells me you don’t.” 

“Mental health issues.” 

“That’s part of it. I came home because I couldn’t fucking do it anymore. I’d had enough. Of that life and all the bullshit that came with it. Fucking death and blood and gore and everything that came with it. Helping people that don’t give a shit if I’m alive or dead at the end.” 

“I gave a shit,” Ovi reminds him. 

“You know how long I’d be doing the job? Almost sixteen years. That’s a fucking lifetime for guys like me.” 

“Guys like us,” the younger man stresses. 

“You’re not there yet. You might not even get there. You might not even get past what I have in store for you. You want to think it’s all a big game and that it’s something you ‘just want to try out’? Well you’re going to see just how fucking fun it is when I get a hold of you. So if you’re having any second thoughts, I’d back out now before it’s too late and I have you curled up in a ball of your own puke and piss.” 

Ovi blinks at the harshness in his voice. 

“You wonder why she’s upset? Why she’s pissed off with you? With the whole fucking world right now? Do you know how many promises I’ve made to her that I’ve broken? So many that she doesn’t even believe me when I make promises anymore. That’s fucking sad. It’s pathetic. And here I am, breaking another one.” 

“You’re not exactly...” 

“You know what? You don’t get to talk. You're just going to sit there and listen to what I have to say. You want to be a man and make these kinds of decisions? Then you sit there and let another man tell you the way things are. I’m not just random off the street that doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The job was my life. It’s who I was. And when I walked away, I thought I left it behind. And then you come along with this bullshit...” 

“Tyler...I...” 

“Just shut the fuck up and listen,” he growls. “I’m not fucking around here, Ovi. I’m not pulling any punches. It wasn’t just the job that screwed with my head. There was a lot of things that fucked me up. Things you don’t even know about. All the way back to when I was a kid. But the job? The job fucked me in more ways than you can even begin to imagine. You think it’s fun killing people? That I actually enjoyed it? I took pride in it?” 

Ovi shakes his head. 

“I did it for the money. That’s it. I didn’t do it to help people. I didn’t give a shit about myself, why would I give a shit about them? And then you came along, and Dhaka happened, and that was my one chance to make things right. For redemption. To prove I wasn’t a shit human being. And part of me was ready to die that day. More than ready. And another part of me wanted to stay alive because I thought maybe...just maybe...I’d met someone that could teach me how to give a shit again. That would actually give a shit about me.” 

“She obviously did. And still does. Or she wouldn’t be here.” 

“She stayed behind on that bridge. Knowing there was a chance that Asif would get a hold of her. Do you know what would have happened to her if he had? What he would have done to her? Way worse than he would have done to you. He would have killed you quickly. He would have waited days with her. Weeks. Until he was bored with her; tired of doing all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her.” 

Ovi swallows heavily, tears welling in his eyes. 

“And she still stayed. Knowing what would happen if she got caught there. Fucking Nik took off. She wasn’t even going to come back for us. Everything should have told Esme to leave me there and she didn’t. So don’t come here...to my house...and even think about disrespecting my wife.” 

“I wasn’t going to. I...” 

“You didn’t even give a shit about what she had to say last night. She’s trying to save your life and you didn’t even care. She doesn’t want you ending up like me, don’t you fucking get that? You think I want to be like this? Fucked in the head? Having to take medication every morning to just goddamn function like somewhat of a human being? You think I want my wife and my kids to see me like this? What the hell is wrong with you that you can’t see what the job does? It hasn’t just fucked me up, it’s fucked all of them up. My wife, my kids. Why can’t you see that?” 

“I don’t expect you to get back into the job. Just to help me. And you said you would. With the training. You said...” 

“You think it’s really going to stop there? That that’s going to be enough? I’m going to get dragged back into this shit. You know it, I know it. Esme knows it. And it’s fucking killing her inside. Because I told her that this time I was done for good. And now look. Look at the goddamn mess you’ve gotten me into.” 

“I never meant to...” 

“Never meant to what? Bring me back into it? Bullshit. It’s what you wanted right from the get-go. You never wanted to do this alone. You wanted me with you right from the start. Well now you got what you want. You’ve got me right back into this crap. Whether I want to be in it or not. You know I wouldn’t let you do it alone. You damn well knew from the start I’d never let that happen, didn’t you.” 

Ovi reluctantly nods. 

“Well I hope you’re prepared then. Because I’m not going to make this easy on you. You want me to drag me off to some shit hole and get me killed, I get to do things my way. And I swear to Christ, if my marriage falls apart because of this and I lose my kids....” 

“You won’t. That won’t happen. She’d never leave. You know she wouldn’t.” 

“I know she WOULD. Don’t tempt it. I break one more promise to her and it’s done. She’ll take off and I’ll never see my kids again. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making yours miserable because of it. Understand me?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re both so worried. Why you’re both so upset. I don’t...” 

“What if I don’t come back?” Tyler angrily interjects. “What if this is the one time no one is around to save me? What if it’s the one time a sniper puts a bullet in my head instead of my chest? Do you know what I leave behind? Five kids. Five little kids that deserve so much better than this. Does that even matter to you? Do they even matter to you?” 

“Of course they do!” Ovi exclaims. “I love those kids! They’re my brothers and sisters! How could you even ask me that? How could you...?” 

“You love them but you’re willing to take their dad away from them? It’s okay that I go in there to rescue your ass, but I get killed for it? I leave them behind; I leave Esme behind. Do you know what that would do to her? Me not coming back? Like what the fuck?” He angrily tosses the craft supplies into a storage container on the edge of the patio and slams the lid closed. “Do you not realize everything I stand to lose?” 

“I do. I do realize that. You have a life. A wife and kids and...:” 

“And you’re still going to do it. You’re still going to go ahead with this bullshit.” 

Ovi sighs. 

“We start the day after Millie’s birthday. I don’t want to hear anything more about it until then. You know you’re more than welcome to keep coming over here, just don’t talk about this again. Not in front of my wife. And especially not in front of my kids. Understand me?” 

“I understand.” 

“We’re finished here. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a long fucking day and I’m done with it. With everything. I’m going into Port Douglas tomorrow to take Millie to see my dad. You can come along if you don’t mention a word of this around her.” 

“Okay. I’d like that. To see him again. And I’m sorry. I really am. For all the problems. For all the bullshit. I never meant to cause issues. Especially for you and Esme. I never meant...” 

“You come between us and fuck things up, I will make your life hell,” Tyler vows, as he gathers up the dirty coffee mug and steps towards the entrance to the house. “I lose my family because of all this, it won’t end well for you.” 

“Tyler, I...” 

“We’re done with this,” he says, and then slams the door closed behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SMUT. NSFW

“So how mad are you?” Tyler asks, as he stands in the doorway of the main floor laundry room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. 

The situation is touch and go. She hadn’t set foot upstairs while he’d carried out Millie’s bedtime routine or when Kyle had wandered in with a sleeping five year-year old under each time; dumping each of them fully clothed into their beds before taking off again. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” she counters, as she gathers a bundle of laundry from inside the dryer and drops them on top of it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, besides getting glitter all over the goddamn place.” 

“You can blame your daughter for that. She's a little obsessed with sparkly shit.” 

“Just a little,” Esme agrees with a grin. 

He takes it as a sign that all is well between them and finally approaches, standing behind her and pushing a hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in the soft, fine tresses and lightly tugs; drawing her head back and kissing her. Teeth lightly capturing her bottom lip as he pulls away, and she gives a grin and reaches back to grab a hold of his ass, lightly squeezing before he steps beside her. 

They work in companionable silence; each tending to handfuls of clean clothes that they drop into a wicker basket that sits on the floor between them. And he glances over at her every few seconds; eyes wandering her entire form; clad in nothing more than one of his old t-shirts, tattered and filled with holes and paint stainss. Taking in the way her hair falls to just below her shoulders and brushes against the sides of her face; the natural red high lights sparkling under the artificial light. 

She catches him watching her and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Almost seven years later and she’s still self-conscious about how she looks to him. Always fretting about the shape of her ass or the size of her thighs and how wide her hips have gotten. He sees none of that; he doesn’t notice the extra ten pounds she complains about or the stretch marks she tries desperately to hide. All he sees is the woman that he’d fallen in love. And keeps falling in love with each passing day. 

“Tyler...” she says. 

“Esme...” 

“Why are you staring at me?” 

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring. I’m not allowed to admire my wife?” 

“Admiring or critiquing?” 

He frowns. “What the hell is there to critique?” 

“I’ve had five kids. Things don’t look like they used to,” she laments. “I’m definitely not the same person I was when we met.” 

“Neither am I.” 

“But you’re only getting better with age. Me? I just get worse.” 

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror lately? Because you look fucking amazing. And I know you’re just going to say I’m just being biased or that I’m just trying to boost your ego. But it’s true. Every word. You’re beautiful and you’re sexy and you always will be in my eyes.” 

He hates not only what her own battle with depression and the monsters from her past has done to her, but also her disastrous first marriage; Mark’s abusive behavior –physical, emotional, sexual- leaving so much damage in its wake. And it’s been a full-time job in itself getting her to see herself the way he does. It’s his main bone of contention in their marriage: having to listen to her degrade herself and drag herself down when he just wants to worship the ground she walks on. 

“Even after five kids?” she challenges. 

“Especially after five kids. I don’t know what more I can say. How to get you to see yourself like I see you. I just wish you would.” 

“Maybe you need glasses.” 

“Maybe you need to stop. I love you. And I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I have since that day you walked into my place. I don’t see what you do. I don’t see the extra weight you bitch about or the marks on your skin or the how your clothes don’t fit like they used to. All I see is you.” 

“You really are determined to make me cry by the end of the night,” she teases, and playfully slaps him in the face with one of Addie’s sleepers. 

She watches the way his hands move as they fold that simple piece of clothing. His hand –from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle digit- longer than the actual sleeper itself; those fingers with their various scars and their swollen and misshapen knuckles never fumbling as they tend to impossibly tiny buttons. She knows what those hands are capable of; the things that they’d done. The blood he has on them; hundreds of men in Dhaka alone were dead because of those hands. Large and powerful. Frightening, even. 

But she also knows how those hands feel; the callouses on the palm and the even more prominent one on the right index digit; his ‘trigger finger’. She knows they’re capable of inflicting so much more than brutality and death. They can be soothing and gentle; rocking babies to sleep, caring for the kids’ injuries and clearing away their tears, massing her aching back when in the agonizing final stages of childbirth. And she knows how they feel during intimate times; how they can alternate between gentle and rough depending on his mode and what how she wants and needs his touch to be. She’s experienced those delirious heights of pleasure that they’re more than capable of bringing her to. 

She looks away; the mere thought bringing a flush to her cheeks and a familiar warmth that builds between her thighs and in the pit of her stomach. 

“I was always looking at you because I was trying to figure out if you’re wearing underwear or not,” Tyler admits. 

“This is not a safe house to walk around in wearing JUST a t-shirt. Not only do we have all kinds of little people that can show up out of nowhere, but now we have Kyle wandering in and out.” 

“How long’s he staying for anyway?” 

“He SAID his vacation was for two weeks.” 

“But? There’s a ‘but’ coming. I can feel it.” 

“He did say if he liked it here that much, he might not go back.” 

Tyler sighs. 

“I thought you liked my brother.” 

“I do. I just don’t like the baggage he brings with him.” 

She smirks. “Nik?” 

“We just got rid of her. He sticks around, that means she’s going to come back. And I don’t know about you, but the less of her the better.” 

“She does tend to bring the drama with her.” 

“Drama, home wrecking, whatever you want to call it.” 

“But if we could get him away from her...” 

“We are NOT getting involved. We just talked about this. We agreed to stay out of it.” 

“No, you agreed to stay out of it,” Esme corrects. 

“And I told you to stay out of it.” 

“When do I ever listen to anything you say?” 

He smirks. 

“We could always kick Chloe out and have Kyle take her place.” 

“You mean Ovi could kick Chloe out. Because we’re not doing shit. We are staying out of people's personal crap. Didn’t you hate when people were always in our shit back in Colorado? Your mom, your other brothers...” 

“But they’re evil and were always trying to cause problems. We’re trying to avoid a huge problem. If we get Kyle away from Nik, then there’s no more Nik. That way if he stays here, we won’t have to worry about her coming around and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Neither wants you to stick in her...” 

“Let’s not start that conversation again.” 

“I’m just trying to think of what’s best for my brother. And I know she’s not it.” 

“Then you never should have set him up with her in the first place. This is kind of all your fault.” 

Frowning, she rolls up the beach towel in her hand and smacks him hard across the ass with it. 

“I’m just saying that we need to stay out of. Let Kyle do what he wants and whatever happens, happens. I just don’t want him living here. We have enough people living under this roof. We don’t need another one.” 

“And yet you want another kid,” she scoffs. 

“That’s totally different and you know it. That’s a kid. That we’d make together. Kyle’s a grown ass man. Let him be one. Stay out of it. If he wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. If he wants to dick down the neighbor, let him dick down the neighbor. Who gives a shit?” 

“And if he’s dicking down both?” 

“Then good for him. He’s lucky.” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“He manages to juggle both of them, he’s a fucking legend.” 

“You’re going to be juggling both your balls in a second. Is this your sly of way of telling me you want to be dicking down the neighbor?” 

“Are you fucking insane? No way in hell.” 

“You have to admit, she’s cute.” 

“She’s not you. I don’t want to be dicking down anyone else, okay?” 

“You know,” she grins. “Sometimes you can really redeem yourself.” 

“And even if I did want to, I wouldn’t have the energy to dick anyone else down anyway.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or...” 

“Just you, baby. I only want you.” 

She smiles, then lightly bumps his hip with her own. 

“So I never did get a yes or a no. About the underwear.” 

She gives a dramatic sigh and then lifts the bottom of the t-shirt to her waist; giving a slight peek of the elaborate and colorful tattoo that graces her entire left rib cage, and a look at the lacy black garment that sits low on her hips but is cut high on her ass. “Good?” 

“Very good. Very, very, very good.” 

“You’re getting easy to please in your old age. Pretty soon all it’s going to take is some side boob to get you in the mood.” 

He grins. “Who says it doesn’t already?” 

“You have been very...what’s the word...amorous...lately.” 

“Lately?” 

“I mean, you always are. You always HAVE been. Our track record was amazing sex over the past almost seven years is remarkable. But since the doctor gave that green light, you’ve been extra...I don’t know...extra.” 

“Do you blame me? I just went four months having to flog the bishop two to three times a day.” 

“Flog the bishop,” she can’ t help but laugh. “Baby, you’re so cute.” 

“What I am is horny.” 

“Yeah,” a grin tugs at her lips. “I’ve noticed that the last couple of days.” 

“No. I mean like right now. This very second.” 

“I’m busy.” 

“Get unbusy,” he says, and yanks the piece of clothing she’s folding out of her hand and tosses it aside. 

“You need to chill,” Esme suggests, and then has the nerve to bent over in front of him as she fetches a wayward sock off the floor; the shirt slipping up to the small of her back. 

Just the mere sight of her ass –that smooth, pale skin- causes his cock to stir; the pressure beginning to build in the pit of his stomach. And he reaches out, running a fingertip along the edge of the lace, feeling the goosebumps that prick her flesh. Finger slowly travelling over her skin until he reaches her hip; then pressing his palm against it and squeezing tightly. 

“That hurt!” she scolds and reaches around to rub at the tender spot. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“It’s what I want to get into you.” 

“Okay, well can give you five minutes to get shit done? Patience is a virtue, after all.” 

“Screw patience,” he growls, the slams the dryer door closed and places on hand her stomach and the other at the base of her throat, fingers applying slight, yet firm pressure as he presses his erection against her. His hand slips down the front of her panties; fingertip dragging along the top of her pubic bone, his breath warm and moist as his mouth hovers by next to her ear. “Let’s fuck.” 

She opens her mouth to respond, but all words escape her when she feels the tip of his nose and the scratch of his beard against the side of her throat, followed by the sensation of his hot, wet mouth. Lips aggressive and demanding against the skin; teeth lightly grazing along the flesh, fingers pressing harder and deeper into her neck. His aggression has always been a turn on; starting with that moment he’d pinned her against the wall in the hotel room in Dhaka in a fit of a rage. She’d quickly discovered it was what she liked. What she craved. And she’d initially been ashamed because of it; Mark had caused a tremendous amount of pain and torment during their shit show of a marriage, so she’d felt disappointed and disgusted in herself for wanting sex to be that way with another man. But she’d learned that the two situations were vastly different; one was abuse, the other someone she trusts with her life. Who’d never intentionally do anything to hurt her. 

She presses her ass against him; loving the way he groans in her ear. It’s empowering. Knowing you have that kind of effect of someone. When you know all the little things that drives them crazy; those magic spots that can nearly bring them to their knees. And she reaches up to grab a hold of his hair as he kisses her. His tongue aggressively pushing its way into her mouth just as his hand slides lower into her panties, palm cupping her mound; hot and wet against his skin. Giving a low moan of approval at the sensation before his mouth finds the side of her throat once again. Her eyes closing and the grip on his hair tightening as two of his fingers push past the swollen lips, the ends coming in contact with her clit; causing her body to shudder against and her hips to jolt backwards, bringing her ass in contact with his cock yet again. 

“Fuck...” he growls. The simple contact even through the fabric of his sweats causing the pressure to build; erection painfully straining against the confines around him. And she cries out when his teeth clamp down on the juncture between neck and shoulders and he slips two fingers inside of her. “So good...” he breathes, mouth against her neck. “...you feel so good...and you’re so fucking wet.” 

“For you,” she says. “Only for you.” 

A low and almost feral moan resonates from deep within his chest and removes his hand from inside of her panties. His gaze never wavering from hers as he licks and sucks her fluid from his fingers, the taste sweet and delicious on his lips and his tongue. 

“Tastes so good,” his voice is low. “So fucking good.” 

There’s a primal, animalistic look in his eyes; a hunter stalking its prey. And it makes that aching and longing between her legs almost overwhelming; almost too powerful to bear. She grinds her ass against him once more; feeling how hard he is through the fabric of his sweats. His breathing quickening and become more ragged as she continues to rub against him, feeling the way his fingers bite into her hips. And she attempts to slip her own hand between her legs to chase some relief, but he roughly grabs her by the wrist, then brings her arm behind her back. 

“I don’t fucking think so,” Tyler snarls, and uses the force of his grip and the weight of his body to propel her towards the countertop across the room. A knee pushes her legs apart as he keeps her arm secure behind her back; his other hand roughly yanking her panties off her hips and over her ass, letting them to pool at her ankles. “Take them off,” he orders, and she hurriedly obliges. 

Anyone else in this situation and it would scare her, the intensity in his eyes, the aggression in both his voice and his movements. But the trust is there. It always has been. The confidence that he’d never hurt her; that he’d stop the very second she showed any signs of pain or discomfort. 

Tyler tightens his hold on the wrist that’s pinned behind her back and pushes her further into the countertop. His free hand on her shoulder; pushing her upper bod down before hastily shoving down his sweatpants. “Open,” he demands, using a thigh to push apart her legs. And still holding her arm firmly behind her back, the other hand settles on her shoulder as he pushes into her with one smooth, solid thrust that has her crying out, cheek pressed against the cold ceramic beneath her. 

He hesitates; leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You okay, baby?” 

“Mm...hmm...” she responds, and pushes her ass back, encouraging him to continue. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Just fuck me,” she orders. “Now.” 

He grins. “You’re demanding.” 

“Now!” she forcefully repeats and reaches back to dig her nails into his thigh, hard enough to break the skin. 

He pulls out completely, smirking at the disappointed, pissed off look that crosses her face before slamming back inside of her with brutal force. It always surprises him; how someone that small and seemingly fragile can take as much as she can. How she’s always so eager and willing to this side of him to come out; aggressive, mean, controlling. Sometimes it even scares him; how quickly he can lose control of both the situation. Afraid that he’ll hurt her and then spent a week hating himself for it. 

But he gives her what she wants. Repeatedly driving into her; that arm still pinned behind her back, the other hand now on the back of her head; spurred on by her pleas for ‘harder’ and ‘faster’. Sweat beading across his forehead and gathering at the nape his neck and the small of his back. Fucking her until she loses the ability to form coherent words and is gasping and sobbing; tears streaming down her face. Hips jerking back towards him, matching every movement. And he drops the hand from the back of her head and reaches between her legs, fingers easily finding her clit; vigorously and relentlessly rubbing at it until her orgasm hits her. The scream muffled against the countertop and those internal muscles contracting almost painfully around his cock. It quickly brings on his own release; a few deep, controlled thrusts until a deep, low growl rumbles in chest and he empties himself inside of her. 

He finally releases the hold on the arm behind her back; both hands now resting on her hips as he closes his eyes and drops his forehead onto her shoulder. Chest heaving and legs sharking as he attempts to regain his composure. 

“Tyler...” she reaches around and lays a hand on his thigh, trying to push him back. “...I love you, but you’re really fucking heavy.” 

He didn’t realize his entire weight had collapsed against her, and he places a kiss on her cheek and gives an apologetic smile before backing away, withdrawing completely. Snagging a towel from the laundry basket, he uses it to clean himself up, then gently presses it between her legs. “You alright?” 

Esme nods. 

“Was I too rough?” 

She shakes her head. “You were perfect. But I swear to God if you got that towel out of the clean basket...” 

“Sorry,” he gives a sheepish grin, then kisses her softly before tossing the item in question into the nearby sink before pulling his sweatpants back up. “Here,” he locates a pair of pajama pants in the dryer and hands them to her. “I don’t think you’ll want to put that underwear back on. They’re a little...wet.” 

“Well if you didn’t have that effect on me, they’d be perfectly fine,” she retorts, and then turns to face him; hands on his chest for balance as he helps her slip into the pants. “I never thought you’d be the type of guy who’d be into aftercare,” she teases. 

“I never was. Until I met you.” 

“Look at me. Bringing out all the good sides of you.” 

“All the best sides,” he declares, then lays a hand on the back of her head and kisses her. “You sure you’re okay? I think I was a little too into it.” 

“I would have told you if you were. You were amazing. Trust me. And thank you,” she stands on her tiptoe to kiss him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you,” she says, as she buries her face in his chest, fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “So much.” 

“I love you too, baby,” he brushes his lips against her temple. “Always.” 

**** 

The second time lasts longer. Slow yet intense love making that follow two rounds of foreplay. Now they lay in a mix of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs; on their sides with her back tucked into his front, one of his legs draped over hers and their tightly clasped hands pressed against her stomach. Tyler’s eyes are closed, tip of his nose and his lips pressed against the nape of her neck; happy and sated. Not just from the sex, but from the intimacy afterwards; lying together and feeling the warmth that radiates from her body and the familiar smell that clings to her hair. And she gives a long, content sigh and turns her face to the side, smiling back at him. 

“You asleep?” she asks. 

“Nope. Just completely and utterly fucked out.” 

She laughs at that, and he gives a chuckle of his own and raises his head long enough to kiss the corner of her mouth. 

“I love you,” he says, and brushes his nose against her temple. 

“I love you too,” she snuggles tighter into him and increases the grip on his hand. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing really. Just lying here. Thinking about how happy my dick is right now.” 

She snorts. 

“Which is very fucking happy, by the way.” 

“If he wasn’t, I’d be very insulted.” 

“What are you thinking about?” he inquires. 

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

He frowns. “As long as it’s not Dhaka. Because if you say Dhaka...” 

“It isn’t Dhaka,” she assures him. “As amazing as those five days were...” 

“Best five days of my life.” 

“...I was NOT thinking about that place. I was thinking about that shack of yours. After Millie brought it up, I started thinking about wanting to go there and see it.” 

“It doesn’t look the same anymore. Not after what he’s done do it.” 

“You mean it actually has walls and an actual roof now?” 

“Listen, smart ass...” 

“I don’t care what it looks like. I just want to see it. It’s where everything started. It’s where WE started.” 

“Technically WE didn’t start until Bangladesh.” 

“But we met there. At the shack. It’s where I first saw you. It would be nice to go and see it. To see Koen again. And bathroom chicken.” 

“I don’t think bathroom chicken is there anymore. I think he’s probably made dinner out of her by now.” 

“That dick. That’s fucking savage.” 

Tyler chuckles and presses his lips to the side of her head. “You eat chicken,” he reminds her. 

“I wouldn’t have eaten HER. We could have kept her as a pet. Or considered her our first child.” 

“I remember when we were in Dhaka and...” 

“Hey!” she jabs him in the stomach with her elbow. “No saying the D word.” 

“When we were THERE, I used to think about how we’d make things work. If they went okay between us and we didn’t kill one another while we were travelling. If you’d be happy staying there with me whenever you came to town.” 

“Why wouldn’t I have been?” 

“It wasn’t exactly five-star accommodations.” 

“You were a bachelor. You didn’t care what your place looked like. You were on the job so much it was basically just a place to eat and sleep. And fuck some of your pieces of ass.” 

“I never had any pieces of ass there. I didn’t want anyone close to home. In case they got attached and started showing up all the time.” 

“What about Nik? I’m sure she visited you there.” 

“We only ever fucked when I was on a job and she’d show up at the hotel. Never at my place. I didn’t want her there. I didn’t want ties to anyone, which meant keeping them away from my place.” 

“You’re a very complex man, Tyler Rake,” she muses. “But you thought about having me there.” 

“Because I wanted you there. I wanted you to be part of my life. If it was a dick and ditch, I would have told you right from day one. When we first fucked.” 

“So you wanted to keep me around. Right from the start.” 

“More like from the third day in. I was hopeful. That you’d want to stick around.” 

“And here I was thinking it was me getting attached way too soon,” she teases, and he smiles against the back of her neck. “I was hopeful too. That there’d be more to it. That we’d travel like we planned and find out if we actually liked each other outside of sex. We never got that chance though.” 

“No. We didn’t.” 

“Do you regret that?” That it never went according to plan?” 

“No. It’s the butterfly effect, right? Change one thing, everything changes?” 

She grins. “When did you become the deep thinker?” 

“Not just a pretty face and big muscles, baby. If things had had went the way we planned, there’s a chance that the twins and Declan and Addie wouldn’t even be here. The only for sure one is Millie. Because I wasted no time knocking you up with her.” 

“Your swimmers were very determined,” she concludes. “I wonder what day of the five it happened on. I hope it wasn’t the first day.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You want your daughter knowing she was conceived while you were choking me?” 

“You want her to know how much you like it?” He counters. 

“How about we agree to keep our mouths shut. Because those five days were extremely dirty and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Deal?” 

“Deal,” he agrees, and presses his lips to her shoulder; lingering on the lotus flower tattoo that graces her skin. 

“I would have been happy there,” she says. “At the shack.” 

“Yeah?” 

She nods. “I think WE would have been happy.” 

“Wouldn’t have been able to raise a family there. Maybe one kid. But not five.” 

“We would have had to move once we found out about the twins. Or added onto the place.” 

“The outback is not a place to bring up kids. Trust me.” 

“I would have liked some time with you there. Even just a little while.” 

“Honestly? I would have just liked to fuck you there. At least once.” 

She looks over her shoulder at him, frowning. 

“What? You have your thing, I have mine. Just ‘cause it sounds weird, doesn’t mean it is. And I’m not gonna lie, I would have done it that first day.” 

“Seriously? What about Nik?” 

“She could have watched.” 

“I don’t fucking think so,” Esme scoffs. “Bad enough she’s seen you naked. I don’t want her seeing me naked. Seeing us...you know.” 

He grins. “Fucking?” 

“To be crude about it, yes.” 

“She could have just waited outside then,” Tyler reasons. 

“You wanted to seriously fuck me the first day we met?” 

“First day? First ten minutes. Do you blame me? I’m a guy. And you walked in there looking so cute and...” 

“Cute? You’re calling me cute?” 

“What’s wrong with being called cute? I think you’re very cute.” 

“I want to be beautiful and sexy and alluring and...” 

“You’re those things too. But sometimes you look cute. That’s not an insult. You’re tiny and cute and I want to pick you up and put you in my pocket. And you looked cute that day. You had on those little jean shorts and that yellow tank top that had one strap that kept falling down. Your hair was in a ponytail. And you smelled like coconut.” 

She rolls over onto her side to face him. “You remember all that?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? Like I said, you looked cute. And you walked in there like you owned the place. All fucking attitude. I liked what I saw. You were different. You didn't take shit and you let me know pretty early that you weren’t going to put up with any from me.” 

“I knew it. You’re turned on by assertive women.” 

“Well I was turned on by YOU. I don’t know about other assertive women. I so would have fucked you. Right there. Right then.” 

“I don’t know whether to be flattered, or....” 

“Flattered. Definitely flattered.” 

“For the record, I would have let you.” 

A broad grin covers his face. “Yeah? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you, nice hair. Let’s fuck’?” 

“That would have worked actually. I would have been like ‘let’s go’.” 

“Why didn’t YOU say anything? Esme counters. 

“I was trying to be a gentleman.” 

“You plied me with alcohol.” 

“I asked you if you wanted a drink and you said yes. I gave it to you. I didn’t ply you with it. There’s a difference.” 

“Well even without the booze, I would have given in. Just so you know.” 

“I used to have a thing about wanting to fuck you on the kitchen table,” Tyler admits. “Just bend you over it and just give it to you.” 

“You’re dirty.” 

“That’s tame compared to some of the things we’ve done. Most of them, actually.” 

“You’re such a bad influence,” she declares, then places a hand on the back of his head and kisses him; mouths moving slowly against each other, naked limbs rubbing and brushing together. And when he pulls away, he brushes the hair away from her face and presses his lips to her forehead, then the bridge of her nose. 

“I’m hungry,” Tyler announces. 

Eme sighs. “Me too. What are you going to make me?” 

“What do you want?” 

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to see when we get down there.” 

“How come I have to be the one to make it?” 

“Your daughter said that you were the good cook, so I’ve given it up and handed you the reins,” she chides. “You wanted to try your hand at the domestic life, well there you go.” 

“By domestic life, I meant siting on my ass while you do everything.” 

“You wish!” she scoffs, and he pecks his life being throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. “Baby...” she muses, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re sexy. Can I feel your arms?” 

“You can feel whatever you want, whenever you want, however much you want.” 

“Wherever and whenever?” she enthuses. “That’s dangerous. What if I start feeling you up at the grocery store or when we pick the kids up at school? Make Millie’s teacher extra jealous.” 

“Baby, if you want to fuck me in the parking lot at the grocery store, all you have to do is ask.” 

‘Kinky,” she giggles, then frowns when he tosses on his t-shirts at her and lands on top of her head. “Are you really going to Port Douglas tomorrow?” she asks, as she sits up and shrugs into the shirt. “To see your dad?” 

Tyler nods. 

“And you’re taking Millie?” 

“She wanted to see him. And asked if he could come to her birthday party. She even made him a special invitation to give him.” 

“You think she’ll be okay? I mean, if he’s having an ‘off day’...” 

“If he is, we leave. I wouldn’t take her anywhere I didn’t think she could handle. You know that.” 

“And what about you?” She climbs out of bed and stands in front of him, hands on his chest. “Think you can handle it?” 

“I did the first time,” he points out. 

“Did you?” her fingertips trace the scar on the left side of his chest, where the sniper’s bullet had caught him on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. 

He hadn’t even known what hit him; the shot knocking him off his feet, an immediate burning sensation filling his entire chest and blood rising into his throat. He remembers thinking that he had to get up and get cover; that the sniper would be waiting to take the ‘kill shot’. But his legs wouldn’t work; he was nauseous and dizzy and in excruciating pain and all he could do was drag himself across the asphalt while coughing up blood. 

“I think so,” he replies. “I didn’t come home and crack open a bottle and pop some Oxy, so I guess I did okay.” 

“I know there’s a lot you’re holding back,” Esme says. “From your childhood. That you’re angry and you’re hurt and even though he’s sick, you want him to pay for what he’s done. And I get it, Tyler. You know I do. And you know I support you one hundred percent.” 

“But...” 

“I just don’t want Millie hearing all of that. If something happens and you snap on him, I don’t want her being there. Because she’s five and she’s a baby still and she doesn’t need to shoulder adult things. It’s bad enough she asked about the time you nearly died.” 

“In all fairness, you brought that up the other night and she’s been holding onto it for days.” 

“I know. And I feel like shit for doing it. Sometimes I forget she’s listening and that she’s as smart as she is. She’s insanely smart. It’s almost scary how smart she actually is. Which is why I don’t want her there if things go bad between you and your dad.” 

“I promise you, if something goes wrong, we just leave. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. You know that.” 

“I do know that,” Esme agrees. “But I also know what you get like when you go off, Tyler. When you can’t control what you say or what you do. And...” 

He silences her with a kiss. “I would never...ever...put our daughter in that situation. You know I wouldn’t.” 

She smiles, then stands on her tip toes and circles her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Whether you think so or not.” 

“I think you overestimate me way too much.” 

“I think you need to keep your mouth shut,” she counters, then squeals when he pinches her ass hard enough to leave a bruise. “I could take you; you know.” 

He smirks. “I’d love to see you try.” 

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for.” 

“What are going to do? Bite my ankles?” 

“You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that? 

“I do. But you love me.” 

“Yeah....” she smiles, then tightens the hold around his neck. “...I do.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, PTSD, ALCOHOLISM, DRUG ADDICTION

It had been a rough night. 

Despite both physically and mental exhaustion, persistent and throbbing pain in both the knee and the shoulder had made it nearly impossible to get comfortable; meds weren’t successful in even taking the edge of, nor was a steaming hot shower or ice packs. And when he had managed to drift off, he was plagued by nightmares. Vivid recollections of both childhood trauma, the death of his son, and the worry surrounding Millie’s impending sixth birthday. It had all blended together. One moment he was a little boy cowering in his bedroom closet as he listened to his father berate and physically beat on his mother. The next he was back on the beach with Austin who was no longer a little boy but a young man with his father’s eyes and a mop of blond hair; holding soon to be six-year-old Millie’s hand while they waded through the surf. And while Austin hadn’t said a word, Tyler had been begging him to leave Millie behind. Arguing that it wasn’t her time yet; still so many years ahead of her, so many things she was going to accomplish, milestones that she was going to reach and surpass. 

But Austin wouldn’t listen; refusing to be swayed by the tears and the pleading and the bargaining. Tyler willingly offering his life in exchange for his daughter’s. He’d lived a long enough life; making amends for most of his mistakes and he had nothing valuable or worthwhile left to give to the world. He had learned how to love again, and he had FELT love, and that was enough. He was the one that Austin wanted, after all. The one that abandoned him when Austin had needed him the most. It should be him paying for the error of his own ways, not a little girl that was innocent and pure and still had so much living left to do. None of it had mattered. Austin had still taken her. Bringing Tyler to his knees; a broken, despondent, and sobbing mess. 

He hadn’t been aware that he’d been talking and thrashing in his sleep. Not until his wife had violently shaken him awake and his eyes had snapped open and was greeted by the fear and the concern in hers. He’d been drenched in sweat; tears streaming down his face, heart racing, chest heaving as he attempted to draw breath into tight, aching lungs. It wasn’t the first time in the last seven years that he’d had a nightmare; for a straight twenty-four months following Dhaka he’d have at least two or three every night. Even when he’d been in the hospital and she’d climb into bed beside him, holding his head to her chest and clearing his tears away with gentle fingers and stroking his hair until he fell back asleep. It was then that he’d discovered it was okay to let his guard down; he could experience moments of weakness and vulnerability with her and never face judgement or condemnation for it. Eventually the nightmares had just stopped. One morning he’d woken up after managing a straight six hours of sleep and he’d felt like a new person. 

Within a month, other things had started to surface. Crippling depression, intense anxiety and terrifying panic attacks, thoughts of suicide. Not just wanting to end his life, but actually planning on how he would do it. The diagnosis of PTSD hadn’t come as a total surprise; you don’t live a life like his and commit the fuck ups you do without paying the price. But it had left him feeling weak and pathetic; embarrassed that he’d been reduced to nothing more than a shell of the man he used to be. 

Yet Esme had stuck by him through it all. Enduring almost seven years that must have...at the darkest and lowest of moments...felt like seven lifetimes. And she’d stayed by his side last night as well; fetching anxiety meds and cool, damp cloth that she’d used to wipe down his face, forehead, and the back of his neck. Never saying a word the entire time she tended to him; the little smiles she’d give him, the concern and the love in her eyes, and her soft, soothing hands doing all the communicating. Not once did they speak to one another, and when he had finally calmed down and his breathing had returned to normal, he’d laid on his back with tears still burning his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. And she’d quietly nestled in beside him. Her forehead resting on his shoulder and her fingers combing through his hair. And he’d managed to drift off again; lulled to sleep by the sensation of fingertips lightly gliding across his forehead and the feel of her warm, steady breath against his skin. 

It’s daybreak now; brilliant sunshine peeking over the horizon. The winds had become stronger through the night and he can hear the rustling of the trees and the waves as they crash onto the shore. The patio doors had been left open overnight and now the strong, cool breeze flutters the curtains and fills the room with the distinct smell of salt. For several minutes he doesn’t move. A forearm over his eyes as he takes in the noises from outside and his wife’s soft, rhythmic breathing as she sleeps beside him. She’d rolled away sometime during the night or early morning hours, resting on her stomach with the comforter pulled up to her chin and her face turned towards him; hair covering her face. 

He rolls onto his side; fingertips gently pushing silky dark tresses away from her forehead and out of her eyes; palm resting against the side of her face as he presses a kiss to her brow. A sigh escapes her lips, followed by an incoherent mumble. And while her eyes never open, her hand reaches out for him, finding his chest and then sliding up to the back of his neck. Tyler studies her. The way the ends of those long, dark lashes just brush the tops of her cheeks, the freckles that dust the bridge of her nose, the slight smile that curves her lips, that thin and barely noticeable scar that runs from the left temple and stops in the middle of her eyebrow. She’s at peace. It had been a long and exhausting night and her mind and body are spent from yet again taking on the role of caregiver, tending to not only him, but their three-week-old as well. 

It’s been her way of life ever since they got married. Helping him fight his demons while never having the time or the energy to battle her own. Consistently putting her own issues on the back burner while concentrating on his. Yet she does it. Willingly. Without hesitation. In the same way she’d stayed behind on the Sultana Kamal Bridge despite knowing that no one was coming to help. Sacrificing herself and never asking for anything in return. 

He leaves her to sleep; grimacing the moment he swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and his feet hit the floor. It’s the first time in six months he’d been this desperate for something stronger to take the edge off; not opposed to saying to hell with sobriety and cracking open a bottle of whisky or scotch in an attempt to numb the pain. It’s been two and a half years since he’s experienced the level of relief that Oxy used to bring him; that almost euphoric state caused by half a dozen. There were times –if he drank enough with them- that he’d fall into a deep sleep. Managing eight to ten hours and then waking up completely disoriented; unaware of the time of the day or even where the hell he was. And then the pain would quickly return, and he’d turn back to the meds and the booze, needing the aide of both to simply function. 

His hands tremble and sweat gathers on his brow and the nape of his neck, mouth dry as his heart hammers wildly in his chest. It’s been a while since he’s been this desperate; where he can taste the booze on his lips and his tongue, and he contemplates how to get his hands on those old vices. The demon is powerful this morning; relentless and brutal. And he actually considers getting dressed and heading into town or even one of the bigger cities to find what his mind and his body hungrily crave. e stands at the bathroom sink with the cold water running; hands tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain as he looks at himself in the mirror. Disgusted by who...and what...he sees staring back at him. His eyes are dark and angry. Haunted. Jaw tightly and painfully clenched. Nostrils flaring. And he inhales deeply and exhales slowly and shakily; struggling to contain the overwhelming and powerful need for relief and escape that surges through him. 

Placing his palms flat against the sink, he closes his eyes and tucks his chin into his chest; struggling to regain his control. Attempting to talk himself down off the ledge. Reminding himself of how far he’s come and how much he stands to lose if he falls back into his old habits and way of life. They deserve better than that. His family. They deserve a husband and a father that isn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict. He’s worried. Scared. That he can’t handle this alone; that he’s spiraling out of control and completely helpless when it comes to stopping it. 

He sticks his hands under the running tap; the frigid temperature causing a sharp and startled intake of breath and effectively snapping him out of crisis. The demon that had been sitting his shoulder and whispering in his ear finally retreats. At least for now. And he splashes water on his face and cups it in his palms, drinking from it before running the remnants through his hair. 

Refusing to look back in the mirror before he leaves the room. 

****** 

Tyler heads downstairs and makes himself a coffee –rich, black, extremely strong- and carries it out onto the back patio, passing the empty couch along the way. Kyle never last night: he’d left as soon as he’d brought the twins back and they haven’t heard from him since. But his truck is still parked in the driveway and all his luggage still takes up way too much space. He’s at the neighbor's; no doubt about it. And while one part of Tyler is glad he’s breaking free of Nik’s clutches and the dumpster fire that his life would have become once he married her, another part of him wants to put a foot up his brother in law’s ass. Nik’s going to lose her shit and she’s going wind up back in Australia and on his doorstep and that’s the goddamn thing Tyler needs. She’s already caused six and a half years of heartache and drama. And just when he’d thought was free and clear of it...of her...she somehow found a way to weasel her way back into his life. 

He takes a seat on the bottom step of the patio stairs; elbows on his knees and coffee mug clasped tightly in his hands. Inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly; allowing the cool air to fill his still aching and trembling lungs. It’s refreshing. Relaxing. And he can feel the last of the tension slowly leaving his body; the sand beneath his feet grounding him, the sound of the ocean and the smell of salt water all working together to bring about the beginnings of peace. And from behind he can hear the soft clink of metal upon metal; the sway of the tags on Mac’s collar as he slips through the open sliding doors and pads towards him. Insistently nudging Tyler’s arm: a request to lift it and let him snuggle in tight beside him. He obliges, ruffling fur at the back of Mac’s neck and the top of his head before resting a hand on the dog’s back. 

It’s as if Mac can sense who needs him the most; always finding the kid that doesn’t feel well or is coming down with some sort of illness, going to the closed nursery door and alerting them before Addie even begins to cry, even curling up beside Esme when the postpartum depression hits especially hard and makes it impossible for her to even get out of bed. Even two hours before the start of Addie’s early and difficult start into the world, he had known that something was going on. Refusing to leave Esme’s side, constantly nudging her baby bump with his snout or placing his paw on it; so insistent that she’d snapped at him to stop being annoying and to just leave her alone and Tyler had to lock him outside. Which only resulted in high pitched whining and clawing and chewing the screen door to shreds in a desperate attempt to get back into the house. 

His coffee is gone and the sun has filled the sky when Esme joins him; setting a second steaming much down beside him –along with a tea for herself- before placing her hands on his shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. While he struggles with outward displays of intimacy and emotions, she seems to excel at them. Those small yet comforting touches when he’s not expecting them, the thoughtful little things that she does and he often takes for granted, even those winks and smiles she’ll sneak his way every once in a while. She craves what Mark had been incapable of giving her; affection and acknowledgment, intimacy that exists in its purest and sincerest of forms outside of sex. And Tyler tries to reciprocate; to use more than words to let her know just how much he does love and appreciate her. But it’s been difficult, even after all this time. He knows what he feels and how profoundly he feels it, but getting it out is often an immense struggle. 

Her chin rests on the top of his head and her hands linger on his shoulders. Fingers lightly massaging the tense muscles before her palms slide down onto his chest and back up again; lips pressing against his cheek before she sits down beside him. 

“Good morning,” she greets and kisses his shoulder, one hand coming to rest on the small of his back as the other picks up her mug of tea. 

He leans into her, pressing a shoulder into hers and placing his lips to her temple. “Good morning, baby.” 

“Is it okay?” she asks. “That I sit with you?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Just checking,” she says, and skims her fingertips along his spine. Starting at his tailbone and travelling to the nape of his neck before sliding back again, hand resting just above the waistband of his shorts. 

He sips his coffee; its hot and strong and it brings a smile to his face. “Kids still asleep?” 

“Every single one. Why does Declan sleep on the floor, though? Explain that one to me.” 

“He’s a ginger. Ginger’s do weird shit.” 

“Don’t talk about your red headed stepchild like that,” she playfully retorts, harking back to a conversation months ago about Declan’s red hair being the result a ‘fling’ with the cable repair man. 

Tyler smirks. “You know what...” 

“What? What are you going to do? Nothing. Because you love me too much.” 

“Says who?” 

“Don’t deny it. You can't hide it from me. I know these things. I figure if you’ve stuck around this long, it must be love.” 

“Well it’s definitely not your cooking, so....” 

“You smart ass,” she grins, and her hand moves from his back to his side, fingers softly tracing the edge of the tattoo that decorates his rib cage. 

For several minutes neither of them speak; it’s a quiet and peaceful Sunday morning. A far cry from the night before and things that had haunted him and kept him awake. The nightmare is still fresh in his mind, the images and the sounds on constant replay in his head. And while his physical pain remains the same, the cravings for Oxy and booze had dwindled. Her mere presence is comforting; the touch of her hand upon his skin, the smell that lingers in her hair, that gentle weight of her knee pressed against his. It’s these moments that he finds himself enjoying the most. Sex...love making...fucking...it’s all amazing. Each and every time. And they have been since their first time together. But it’s times like this when their connection seems stronger. Along with their comfort levels with one another and the trust they have in each other. Those are the true driving force behind not only their marriage, but the remarkable friendship they share. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esme asks, her cup presses to her lips, eyes fixed on the ocean in the near distance. 

“Not really,” Tyler replies. 

“Okay,” she says, and presses a kiss to his shoulder; knuckles grazing along his ribs. “You don’t have to. But you can. When you’re ready to.” 

“I know,” he smiles, and pecks her lips. “Thank you.” 

She gives a smile of her own in return, and he can’t resist pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. Addie looks so much like her; those big, dark eyes and those freckles across the bridge of the nose, even the same ears and lips. So beautiful and so perfect in every possibly way. At least in his eyes. 

“Are you still going today?” she inquires, and her hand settles at his waist. “To see your dad?” 

He nods. 

“Do you want me to come with you? I can track down Kyle and ask him to watch the kids. I know he won’t mind. Maybe it will be better for Millie if we’re both there with her. You know, just in case.” 

“Just in case of what?” 

“Just in case things go a little south. That way you’re not trying to deal with your own stuff AND her. She can be a handful and if something happens and you find yourself in crisis...” 

“What do you think is going to happen? I’m only going to see my old man.” 

“Anxiety? Panic attack? Those are difficult and scary things to see you go through as an adult. Never mind how terrifying it would be for her. She’s five and if you’re alone with her...” 

“Ovi said he’d come with me.” 

“I think I should be going with you. As your wife. And I want to be there with you. FOR you. Let me do this, okay? Let me be there for you.” 

“You already are there for me. You always are. Look at last night. Look at the nearly seven years.” 

“I’m there because I love you, you ferociously stubborn but beautiful man. It’s what we do when we love someone. Look at all the times you’ve done it for me. All those Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners at my mom’s you suffered through; never shying away from sticking up for me when she or my brothers started their shit. You always had my back. No matter what.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my wife. The mother of my kids. I love you.” 

“Exactly. And I love you. So....” she gives his side a slight pinch. “...you get a hold of Ovi and tell him thanks, but no thanks. That your wife is going with you. Maybe he’ll watch the kids if you ask nicely enough. We’re not exactly speaking right now.” 

“Well, may it’s time you do. Speak to him.” 

“I’m not ready to deal with him. I don’t want to keep hearing his bullshit reasons for doing what he’s doing. And I’m tired of trying to get through to him. He doesn’t get it. Why I’m so worried about you getting dragged back into all of this.” 

“He’s young,” Tyler reasons with a shrug. “Stupid. He’s only thinking of himself. And he doesn’t have much to lose.” 

“But you have a lot to lose. So do I . So do your kids. And he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the fall out if things go wrong and you don’t come back. And I need you to come back. WE need you to come back.” 

“Hey...stop...” he gently orders, and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into him, lips pressed to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Everything could go right for a change.” 

She snorts. 

“I could break him before he even gets through training. It could be all too much for him and he decides it’s not worth it to keep going. I’m going to push him. Hard. I’m going to make his life hell. He’ll regret the day he even thought about bringing me back into this shit.” 

“Just don’t kill him,” she requests. “Because I did not go crawling around in that disgusting sewer in Dhaka only for you to end up killing him in the end.” 

“I won’t kill him. I promise. Punish him. But not kill him.” 

“And if he doesn’t? Crack and give up?” 

“Then I pray wherever he goes that he doesn’t completely fuck up. Let’s not talk about it, okay?” He squeezes her shoulder. “We’ll worry about that when and if the time comes. Let’s just get past Millie’s birthday and get the training started and see where things end up. Can we do that? Not talk about it until then?” 

She nods in agreement. 

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “By the way, did you know her daughter talks to herself?” 

Esme laughs. “I know. She gives herself a pep talk every morning after she brushes her teeth. She makes me leave the room and then she stands on the counter and talks to herself in the mirror. She totally hypes herself up for the day. You should hear what she says. It’s cute and it’s inspiring and hilarious all at the same time.” 

“She said something to me about having an awesome day and no one dulling her sparkle.” 

“That’s part of it. That’s always in there. But she adds in new things every day. She reminds me of a football coach psyching his players up with some intense pregame speech. She is SO your daughter.” 

“I do NOT talk to myself.” 

“I don’t mean that. I mean she is so much like you in every way. She can be so intense and so focused and then just so sweet and cute and...” 

“Wait a second...” he frowns. “...are you seriously calling me cute and sweet? What the fuck?” 

“Cute might not be the right way to describe you,” Esme admits. “More like ruggedly handsome and phenomenally sexy. But you can be so sweet. Don’t look at me like that,” she laughs, when he gives her a foul look. “It’s true. You CAN be so sweet, and it makes you even more attractive than you already are. I don’t need you to be tough and kick ass all the time. I love the softer side of you. I love all your sides.” 

He grins. 

“Especially your naked sides,” she adds, giggling when he smirks and leans into her; his mouth covering hers in a long, slow kiss that curls her toes and has her fingers digging into his side. “By the way,” she grins afterwards. “Your naked sides were in fine form last night.” 

“So were yours. Along with your hands. And your mouth.” 

“And my teeth,” she adds, and pressing two fingers to the bite mark that graces his left trap muscle. “Sorry. That one’s really noticeable.” 

“You should see the one on my thigh. That one broke the fucking skin AND drew blood.” 

“Excuse you...” she lifts the leg of her pajama shorts, revealing the rather large hickey and bite mark that sits alongside of it. “...you should talk! I don’t want to hear you complaining. One of those CSI people could get a perfect dental impression from that thing. You bite a lot harder than I do.” 

Tyler grins. “You like it.” 

“That’s beside the point. You’re kinky and a bad influence.” 

“I bring out all the best sides of you, baby.” 

“And the dirtiest ones,” she says, and it’s her turn to kiss him. Even longer this time. More intense. Just feeling the tip of his tongue press against hers when they hear the sliding door being drawn further across the track behind them. 

“Stop,” Esme orders without looking over her shoulder. “Which one are you?” 

“Tanner,” comes the reply. 

“What do you want?” 

“Nothing,” little arms circle her neck from behind. “Hi mommy,” he chirps, and pecks her cheek. 

“Hi,” she turns her face into his and tousles his hair. “Did you sleep good?” 

“Yep,” he wraps his arms around her father’s neck. “Hi daddy,” he cheerfully greets, and then settles himself in Tyler’s lap, who in turn runs a palm over his son’s hair; gently forcing the five year old’s head back and pressing his lips to his brow and giving him a wink. “What are you guys doing out here?” he asks. 

“Mommy and daddy stuff,” Tyler replies. 

“Making babies?” 

Esme sighs. “That is not all that mommies and daddies do despite what your sister tells you.” 

“Sometimes mommies and daddies just practice making babies,” Tyler says, and his wife stares at him, both brows arched. “Well they do.” 

“Is that what you guys were doing?” Tanner inquires and helps himself to a sip of his father’s now lukewarm coffee. “Practicing?” 

“We never quite got there,” Tyler admits. “Because someone likes to cock block.” 

Tanner frowns. “What does that mean? Cock block?” 

“It means your dad needs to watch what he says around you,” Esme responds. “And it means you do not go to school and repeat that, okay? You do not use those words around your teacher or out on the playground or anywhere. And you especially do not say them around TJ or there will be trouble.” 

“Don’t worry mommy. I know how to keep my mouth shut,” Tanner assures her. 

“Are you the only one awake?” she asks. 

Tanner shakes his head, the longer strands of hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “Addie’ awake. And crying. I came downstairs and got her a bottle, but she didn’t want it. I think she needs a new diaper. I was going to do it, but I don’t really know how yet, so...” 

“I’m on it,” his mother says, then finishes the last of her tea and stands up. “Maybe daddy can make breakfast.” 

“He can,” Tyler confirms. 

“And call Ovi,” she adds, and bends down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to find Kyle.” 

“He’s next door getting his rocks off if that helps at all.” 

“What does that mean?” Tanner inquires. “Getting your rocks off? That sounds fun.” 

“Fun when you’re much, much older,” his mother says. “Right now, you don’t need to know what that means. Want to come and help?” she offers her son a hand. “You can practice changing diapers.” 

“I do not want to be the diaper bitch,” Tanner informs her. 

Esme arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“I said what I said.” 

“Who taught you that?” 

“I can’t tell you. Snitches get stitches.” 

“Now I know for sure who told you,” she smirks, and digs her toes into the small of her husband’s back. “Do I have to stop you two from hanging out together?” 

“You can’t,” Tanner says. “He’s my dad. We live in the same house.” 

“Then you stop being so much like him,” Esme says. “You got that haircut and suddenly you turned into his Mini Me. I’m going to shave that hair off when you’re sleeping.” 

“No!” Tanner objects. “This hair cut is bitchin’.” 

“I didn’t teach him that,” Tyler informs her. 

“That was Uncle Kyle,” she concludes. “Only Uncle Kyle uses that word in this day and age. You two behave, okay? No more cuss words. I’m getting tired of the teachers complaining about you kids’ mouths. And you...” she presses her toes into Tyler’s ass. “...please watch what you say. They repeat everything. Remember what happened when you call TJ’s a stupid fat cow at the dinner table? It got back to her. The very next day.” 

“I apologized to her. I told her I was sorry. That I was sorry she’s a stupid fat cow.” 

“She is,” Tanner says. “A stupid fat cow.” 

“Enough,” Esme orders, and tousles his hair. “Stop repeating every bad thing you father says and you...” she slaps Tyler’s shoulder. “...stop saying so many bad things around him. This is the sweet one. The cute one. The one everyone likes. Don’t turn in him into his brother.” 

“I could never be that bad,” Tanner scoffs. 

“You just like to extort money out of people,” Tyler says. 

“You fell for it. Mommy said you would.” 

Tyler’s eyes narrow as he regards his wife. “You were in on it.” 

“It was a social experiment. To see how far his cuteness could get him. He totally fooled you. Don’t hate me because the player got played.” 

“Mommy!” TJ hollers, his face appearing in his bedroom window. “Addie’s flipping her shit!” 

“This house is hopeless,” she sighs, and heads for the door. “Utterly hopeless.” 

“Mommy is way too uptight,” Tanner concludes, as she disappears into the house. 

“Just a little,” Tyler agrees. 

“But you love her right?” 

“Of course, I do. I’m married to her. She’s your mom.” 

“Not every mommy and daddy love each other,” Tanner points out. 

“No. They don’t. But I love your mom very much. More than I ever thought I could ever love someone. And she gave me you and your brothers and your sisters and that just made me love her even more.” 

“I’m going to have two wives when I grow up,” his son declares. 

“Why would you do that to yourself?” 

“Why not?” 

“Do you know how hard it is to keep one happy never mind two?” 

“Mommy’s happy.” 

“Think she is?” 

Tanner nods. “She’s sticks around, doesn’t she?” 

“Good point.” 

“I think you’re doing a good job. I mean, mommy’s happy and she smiles a lot and you’re the best daddy ever, so...” 

“Best ever, huh?” He wraps both arms around his son’s waist and kisses his cheek. 

“Ever,” Tanner affirms. “In the whole world. I hope you’re my daddy forever.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? Where am I going?” 

“I heard mommy and Uncle Kyle talking. About you going away and that you might not come back.” 

Fuck. 

“Are you? Going away? You said you wouldn’t go away anymore. When you got back last time. Did you lie?” 

“I didn’t lie. I’d never lie to you.” 

“Then where are you going? Why is mommy so worried about you leaving?” 

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s just some things I need to do. Here at home. And there’s a chance...if they don’t go well...that I might have to leave. Not for long, though. Just for a little bit.” 

“But you’ll come back, right?” Tanner turns around to face him; kneeling on his thighs and holding his face in his hands. “If you go away, you’ll come home, yeah?” 

“Of course, I will. Nothing can stop me from coming home.” 

“Because I’d miss you,” tears sparkle in the five-year old’s eyes. “If you went away and didn’t come back...” his voice cracks. “...I’d miss you so much, daddy.” 

“It’s alright, mate,” he gathers Tanner into his arms; one hand on the back of his head, the other in the middle of his back; feeling the tears that drip onto his shoulder and how that little body trembles against him. “It’s going to be okay,” he promises. “Everything’s going to be okay.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:
> 
> PROFANITY, MENTIONS OF PTSD, ALCOHOL ABUSE, DRUG ADDICTION (PAIN KILLERS), ANXIETY, PANIC ATTACKS

Kyle arrives shortly before eleven; shirt untucked and wrinkled, carrying his shoes in his hands as he takes the beach back instead of the street. 

From where he stands at the kitchen table braiding Millie’s hair, Tyler can see him as he stands by the side of the pool; cheerfully greeting the twins and Ovi –with Declan in his arms- as they splash around. It’s trouble waiting to happen; whatever is going on between Kyle and the neighbor. As angry and annoyed as he is at Nik for years of drama and issues she’s tried to cause in his own relationship, she doesn't deserve to be treated like that. No woman does. Why cheat when you can just cut ties and do things the right way? There are no kids involved, no worrying about visitation schedules or child support or the long-lasting effects of a broken home. Whatever is going on, it won’t help well for anyone involved. Nik will be hurt and jilted, and she’ll end up on his doorstep. And that’s the last damn thing he wants OR needs. 

“Where have you been?” Millie inquires, as Kyle wanders into the house. “And why do you look like shit?” 

“Amelia...” Tyler frowns. “...what was the one rule for today?” 

She sighs dramatically. “No bad words. But it’s true. He does look like shit.” 

“Busy night?” Tyler asks his brother in law; hands working at twining and twisting his daughter’s thick hair together. 

It’s a far cry from what his hands used to do, when they were primarily used for inflicting pain and punishment on others. When his knuckles would be torn apart; broken, bleeding, swollen. And as he gently drags the brush through Millie’s hair, he finds himself horrified that he’s even thinking about the job. That his brain is playing the ‘then versus now’ game while his own flesh and blood sits in front of him; his ‘rainbow baby’ as Esme calls her. The very life that he’d help created while on the job. That had kept him going on the darkest and most trying of days. 

He tries to fight it. That urge to get back into things. That powerful craving for something more. The intensity and the exhilaration. Even the danger. 

“Ow!” Millie cries, and tilts her head back to look up at him, fixing him with a furious glare. “That hurt! Why’d you pull my hair so hard?! 

Fuck. He’s losing it. Or at least he feels like he is. First Ovi with his ‘wanting to try his hand at the job’ bullshit and then the reappearance of Nik in his life and the fucking nightmares and the incessant and desperate cravings for the Oxy and the booze. Now THIS. The reminiscing and the longing for his former life. This is not what he wanted. This is FAR from what he’d wanted. When he’d had his mental breakdown and walked away from New Zealand, he’d been determined to leave it all behind, the blood, the violence, the danger, the death. Content to be ‘normal’. More than happy to finally settle down and enjoy his role as a husband and a father. He wants to be the man they need. The man they want him to be. The man they deserve to have. 

Now he’s slipping. All of his control, all of his willpower, all of his strength and his confidence. All abandoning him. Threatening to turn him back int the old Tyler; the one that couldn’t function without the booze and the pills. The one that willingly put his life on the line and took on whatever suicide mission he could; praying one day he’d catch a bullet and his miserable existence would be over. 

And he knows if he goes there...if he follows that path...this one will be lost to him forever. 

“That hurt!” Millie pouts. “Why’d you do that?!” 

“I didn’t mean to,” he attempts a lame apology. “I didn’t realize I was holding it that hard. I’m sorry,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head; right on the spot that she’s been gently rubbing. He turns his attention back to the task at home, but finds his hands are now trembling; shaking with an intensity that both surprises and terrifies him, and he lets the brush fall to the table with a loud clatter. “Why don’t you go and get your mom to finish up,” he suggests, nervously wringing his hands together, tightly squeezing one, then the other; anxious for the tremors to stop. “She does a better job than I do.” 

“No, she doesn’t,” Millie scoffs. “And she’s busy. With Addie.” 

“I’m sure she’s got some time to finish your hair.” Tyler sees the way Kyle is watching him; the way his head is cocked to the side and his are both curious and concerned. And he quickly shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Go ask.” 

“I don’t want to,” his daughter argues. “I want you to do it. I want...” 

“Amelia!” he snaps, harsher than he’d intended. “I said go and ask your mom!” 

She blinks, then her mouth settles into a firm, grim line and tears glisten in her eyes. The guilt hits him immediately. She shouldn’t be the one paying the price for his issues; she doesn’t deserve to face the consequences of his burdens and his demons. She’s just a kid. A baby still. Innocent and pure. And none of this bullshit is her fault. 

“Millie...I’m sorry...” he attempts to make amends as she shoves her chair backwards and springs to her feet. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I didn’t mean to...” 

“Leave me alone!” she bellows, then stomps out of the room, both her angry, pounding footsteps and her sobs seeming to thunder through the house. 

“Fuck me...” Tyler mutters, and rakes his hands through his hair and runs a palm down his face. The cravings are back; that crippling need for alcohol. Or the meds. Maybe even both. 

“What the hell, man?” Kyle scowls. “That’s your fucking kid. Why talk to her like that?” 

Tyler fixes him with a cold, harsh stare. “You need to mind your own fucking business.” 

“That’s my niece. My sister is her mother. That makes Millie my business.” 

“You don’t even have kids. Until you do, keep your mouth shut about mine. You don’t know what it’s like. This life. Being a dad.” 

“I know that wasn’t you. That you’re not that kind of dad. The one that snaps on his kids. You’re usually the calm one. Patience of a saint. So what the fuck?” 

Tyler sighs, hands on his hips as he briefly closes his eyes. There’s going to be hell to pay: a pissed off wife and a hurt, angry little girl. Kyle’s right. He IS usually the calm and patient one; he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s lost it on the kids. But his nerves are shot; the last remaining shred of sanity feeling as if it’s barely hanging on. 

“You okay?” Kyle asks. “What was that with your hands? The shaking.” 

“It’s the meds,” Tyler lies. “One of the side effects.” 

His hands used to twitch and move in his sleep; to the point it would wake Esme up. She’d said it was like he was back on the battlefields in the Middle East or still on the job; hands and fingers going through the motions of handling a handgun or a rifle, loading magazines, pulling the trigger. There are times it STILL happens. He can be completely relaxed while lying in bed or sitting on the couch or lounging on the beach and his right index finger moves on its own accord. And he actually has to focus and concentrate on making it stop. 

“Haven’t you been on those for years?” his brother in law inquires. “If you’re still having side effects after this long, I’d get your ass to a doctor." 

Tyler’s annoyed. On edge. And it causes him to immediately lash out. “Shouldn’t you still be out fucking the neighbor?” 

Kyle smirks. “So now you’re going take your shit out on me? I may not be able to take you, but it won’t stop me from trying to kick your ass.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Tyler retorts. “Why are you even here?” 

“Esme called me. Asked if I’d help Ovi with the kids while you guys went out for a while.” 

“I don’t mean that. I mean why are you HERE? In Australia.” 

“I’m here to see my sister. And my nieces and nephews. I don’t get to do that very much since you decided to just pack them up and move them to the other side of the goddamn world.” 

Tyler scoffs. “Don’t start that shit with me. I didn’t force your sister to come here. I didn’t put a gun to her head or give her some kind of ultimatum. We decided this together. She was the one who suggested it.” 

“Same way she suggested it the first time?” 

He frowns. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m talking about when she decided to give up her entire life to stay here. For some guy she’d just met.” 

“She gave up a life?” Tyler gives a dry laugh. “What life? A mother that’s treated her like shit for nearly her entire life? Who stayed friends with an ex-husband that that used to beat her and force himself on her? You mean THAT life? She had no fucking life.” 

“And you gave her one?” Kyle challenges. “Some guy that saw her as nothing more than an easy fuck and spent five days taking advantage of that in some shit hole motel in Bangladesh. Who probably wasn’t even going to bother with her once he got out of there?” 

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. You have no idea what went down between me and Esme. Just what you want to believe. Or what mommy dearest put into your goddamn head. I had every intention of continuing things with her. We had all kinds of plans; for what we were going to do after Dhaka. But we never got that chance, did we.” 

“Yeah, how convenient,” Kyle snorts. “Things go completely to hell, she ends up staying here to play nursemaid to some guy she barely knew, finds out she’s knocked up...” 

“Don’t talk about my wife or my kid like that,” Tyler interjects. “Don’t EVER talk about them like that.” 

“And then you decide to do the right thing,” his brother in law continues. “The honorable thing. I’ll give you that much; you stepped up at least. You didn’t leave her alone and pregnant and make her a single mom.” 

“Is that what you think I did? That I ‘stepped up’ and married her because of Millie? I married her because I loved her. And I stick around because I still love her. Because I’ll always love her.” 

“Or because you’re too far in it now. Five kids make it pretty damn hard to walk away. Or is it your way of keeping HER from walking away? I mean, what better way to keep her around? Keep putting kids in her, keep her barefoot and pregnant...” 

Tyler takes a step towards him; nostrils flaring, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re way out of fucking line, mate. Neither of us are stuck here. Either of us could walk away if we wanted to.” 

“What mother is going to leave her kids? Tell me on mother who would do that. I’ll wait.” 

“You think she sticks around because she feels like she has no other choice? Are you listening to yourself right now? You have no fucking clue what things are like between me and Esme. I stay because I love her. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I know...beyond the shadow of a fucking doubt...that she stays for the same reason. So fuck off with your bullshit. This is my house. You’re a guest here. So don’t walk in here like you own the place and start shit talking me. Or my wife. Or my kids. Because I will put you on your ass.” 

“You threaten her like that, too? Is that how you keep her here? Scare her into being a perfect little submissive housewife? Does it make you feel like a big man picking on a little thing like her?” 

Tyler’s nostrils flare once more; fists tightening so hard that the wounds on his knuckles -that he’s gained while working the heavy bag in the gym so hard- actually crack and begin to bleed. He feels how tense his shoulders are, how tight his jaw is clenched. And he knows Kyle is one more word...one more breath...away from getting himself into a situation he can’t possibly handle. 

**** 

“That’s enough!” Esme snaps from the doorway; holding a despondent Millie on her hip. The soon to be six-year-old is long and lanky; legs dangling well past her mother’s knees, toes almost touching her shins. “Kyle...what the hell...?” 

“We were just having a discussion,” her brother says. “Nothing to worry about.” 

“Bullshit. I was in the hallway. I heard almost all of your little discussion. How fucking dare you.” 

“Mommy...” Millie mutters into her neck. “...bad language.” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Esme lays a hand on her daughter’s head and presses a kiss to her brow. “Do you think you could go outside for a little bit? Just for a few minutes. Mommy has some things to say and she doesn’t think you should hear them. Can you do that for me? Please?” 

Millie nods. 

“Just for a few minutes,” her mother assures her, as she places her on the ground and then holds her face in her hands, pecking her lips. “And say out of the sand. You don’t want mess your dress up before grandpa gets to see it, okay?” 

“Okay,” Millie agrees, and then sidestep her father’s hand when he reaches out for her. “No daddy. I’m still mad. I love you, but I don’t like you very much right now.” 

“Wow...” Kyle comments, as his niece stomps from the room and throws the patio door open –and slams it closed- with enough force to rattle the glass pane. “Six-ish going on sixteen-ish. Wonder where she gets THAT attitude from.” 

“First off, fuck you Kyle,” Esme snaps. “Fuck you and your self-righteous, mom like bullshit. Coming here and thinking you can say the shit I heard come out of your mouth.” 

“What I said? You know what he said?” he gestures towards Tyler. “To his own kid?! How he made her cry?” 

“Oh, she told me all about that. And believe me, Tyler is going to catch shit for it, and he knows it. When we’re alone and we don’t have nosey, judgmental assholes all up in our shit. It’s none of your goddamn business what goes on around here.” 

“You’re my sister,” Kyle argue. “That makes it my business.” 

“Like hell it does! I’m a grown ass woman. With children. So treat me like one. And second of all, fuck you again. For talking about me like you were. Never mind that, for talking to my husband like you were. Who the hell do you think you are?” 

“Did you hear anything he said? Or just me?” 

“He was defending me. Defending US. Don’t try throwing Tyler under the bus when I heard nearly every goddamn word. An easy fuck? That's how you see your own sister?” 

He sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that...” 

“Tyler didn’t take advantage of me. Not in the slightest. We were two consenting adult and we wanted to fuck each other so we did. What we did during those five days has no bearing on you. None whatsoever. You have no clue what went on. The things we talked about. The plans we made. And we had them. Plans. To get to know one another the right way. To travel and to spend time learning about one another. But we never got that chance.” 

“Esme...I....” 

“You weren’t in Dhaka,” she continues, and wanders over to the sink; dampening the dish cloth and offering it to Tyler; so he can clean the open wounds on his knuckles. And he accepts it with a small, grateful smile and leans back against the island. “We were. You weren’t on that bridge You have no idea how bad things were and how bad things got and how worse they could have been. So keep your goddamn mouth shut about Dhaka.” 

“All I was trying to say was...” 

“I’m talking now, Kyle. It’s my turn. You’re in my house. And you will not disrespect me and you sure as hell will not disrespect the father of my kids. I stayed here after Dhaka because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with Tyler. Because he needed someone to be there for him. Because busted his ass to get me out that god awful shitty mess and the least I could do was stick around and make sure he didn’t die alone. Because he almost did. Not just on that bridge, either. I stayed because I wanted to. Simple as that.” 

“Fine,” Kyle throws his hands up in exasperation, and moves towards the patio door. “You did what YOU wanted. You didn’t care about the people you left behind. You were immature and selfish and...” 

“You don’t get to walk away from me,” Esme steps in front of him. “You got yourself into this mess, you’re going stick with it until the bitter end. You come in here and talk shit? Well now you’re going to get it right back. I had a shitty ex-husband who liked to rape and beat on women and a narcissistic bitch of a mother and older brothers with their heads so far up her ass....” 

“Baby...” Tyler steps forward, using his shoulder to shove Kyle out of the way so he can stand in front of her; hand settling on her hip. “...settle down, okay? Just stay calm. I know you’re pissed...” 

She ignores him. “I made a life for myself in Australia,” she informs her brother. “I became a wife and a mother and I’m sorry if you think that’s selfish of me for choosing that over my shitty existence in Colorado. And selfish? Because I did what I wanted for a change instead of what everyone else expected of me? That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re just upset I’m not under your thumb anymore. That’s all you’re pissed about. You and mom.” 

“You’re going to resort to shit talking her? She’s practically on her death bed and you’re going to stoop that low?” 

“I don’t give a shit about her. The second she wished death on my husband...the father of her grandchildren...it was over between us. She’s not my mother, Kyle. She hasn’t been my mother in years. Maybe she never was. And I don’t care that she’s dying. Maybe it’s karma. Maybe she finally is getting what she deserves.” 

“Okay...that’s enough...” Tyler gently orders. “...let’s not say shit you know you’re going to regret.” 

“It’s too late for that,” she says. “The second my brother opened his goddamn mouth when it comes to things he has no clue about. I’m not trapped here, Kyle. He's not some fucking predator like Mark was. What do you think Tyler’s doing? Hiding my birth control or poking holes in condoms just so he can get me pregnant? That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit in the past thirty-five years.” 

“Baby....stop...this has gone too far...” Tyler’s hands are on the side of her face, thumbs brushing away the tears she hadn’t even realized she was shedding. “...stop, okay? You’ve said enough.” 

“He has no clue! Absolutely no clue!” 

“I know. And you getting this upset is not going to change that. Just let it go. It’s not worth it; getting this riled up.” 

“He has no idea. What we’ve been through. What went down in Dhaka and on that bridge.” 

“We don’t need to talk about that. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know what happened. And he doesn’t need to know. It was almost seven years ago. Let’s not talk about Dhaka.” 

“You almost died,” her words manage to come out through choked, angry sobs. “On a dirty fucking sidewalk with my fingers shoved in your neck trying to stop you from bleeding out. You almost died right in front of me.” 

“But I didn’t,” he firmly reminds her. “I’m here. I’m right here.” 

“And you almost died in the hospital. During surgery. Twice. And he has the goddamn nerve to act like it was no big deal? That is so fucking disrespectful to you and what you went through and what you still go through.” 

“Esme....” Kyle attempts to step around his brother in law but meets resistance. “I’m sorry. I....” 

“Don’t touch her,” Tyler calmly orders. “Don’t even talk to her. You have no clue what’s going on right now. Stay out of it. I’ve got it under control.” 

“You do? Because it doesn’t fucking look like it.” 

“Would you just shut the fuck up and go and do something else while I deal with this? You have no clue what she’s talking about or why she’s talking about it. So back off.” 

“She’s my sister! If there’s something I can do for her...” 

“Leave her alone. That’s the best thing you can do for her. Leave her alone and let me deal with it. It’s PTSD, you fucking idiot. You can’t just jump in and fix shit. Fuck. Just let me deal with it.” 

This hasn’t happened in months; where the mere mention of Dhaka triggers such a powerful reaction. The last time had been at the therapist’s office, when Esme was asked about her most painful memory of the last ten years. That had led to a full out meltdown complete with hyperventilating and vomiting. After that the therapist had helped them come up with ‘plan of attack’; highlighting the warning signs and how he could either help talk her down before things escalated, or calm things once they got out of control. 

“I just want him to leave,” she struggles to draw breath. “Make him leave. Please.” 

“He’s just worried about you,” Tyler attempts to reason. “He’s your brother and he loves you and he’s worried about you. Don’t even pay attention to him. Pretend he’s not even here. Pretend it’s just us in the room and no one else.” 

“I can see him though,” panic is starting to set in. “I know he’s here.” 

“Close your eyes, then,” Tyler cradles her face in his hands and tilts her head up towards him. “Just close your eyes and listen to my voice, okay?” 

She nods, her hands coming up to tightly grip his forearms as she allows her eyes to flutter closed. And he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose and rests his forehead against hers. 

“It’s okay, baby...” his voice is quiet, keeping the volume low and the tone steady and soothing. “We’re not in Dhaka anymore. It’s over. It’s all behind us now. We don’t ever have to go back there. We made it out. Both of us. We’re both here. And that’s all that matters. We both made it.” 

***** 

Within minutes she’s settling; her body ceasing to tremble, her tears stopping, her breathing returning to normal. And when the crisis has passed, sweat is glistening on her forehead and her skin is a pale, deathly gray. 

He kisses her forehead once more, followed by her lips. “You okay now? You gonna be alright?” 

Nodding, she manages a small smile. 

“Go outside and get some air. You’ll feel better. I’ll get you some water and your meds, okay?” 

“Okay,” she feebly agrees, and he places his lips against cheek and runs a hand over her hair. 

“Leave her,” he snarls at Kyle, when he attempts to step into her path. “For fuck sake, just leave her alone.” 

Kyle backs off, holding his hands up in surrender. Then waits for his sister to step and is out of earshot before speaking again. “What the hell was that?” he asks, as he follows Tyler into further into the kitchen. “Like what the fuck?” 

“It happens every so often when she’s stressed about something. Usually it has to do with Dhaka. When some fucking shit for brains brings it up.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle mutters. “Was it really that bad?” 

Tyler scoffs. “Oh, I don’t know, mate. She had to stick her fingers in my neck so she could pinch a vein off to stop me from bleeding out all over her. What do you think?” 

“I guess I didn’t. Think.” 

“Yeah no shit. You have no idea what went down over there. Everything she went through. Everything she saw. Especially on that bridge. So do me a favor and don’t bring it up. Ever.” 

“I never realized it was THAT bad, I guess.” 

“How could you not have realized it? You know I almost fucking died. That she was the one that saved me. She’s your sister. How could you not realize that would have fucked her right up?” He yanks the fridge open, snagging a bottle of water before shutting the door with his hip, then grabs a prescription bottle from a cupboard near the stove. “She was dealing with it just fine until all this shit with Ovi started. And let’s not even get into what happened when Nik decided to pop back up.” 

“You know she says you guys were fucking, right? Within the last six and a half years. Since you and Esme got married. She told me. That you her and have been hooking up. Least a dozen times. If not more.” 

“She’s full of shit. I haven’t fucking touched her since I met your sister. I wouldn’t cheat on my wife. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater.” 

“I’m not saying I believe her. Not in the slightest. I don’t think you would. Fuck around on Esme. I mean you’ve done some shitty things, but I don’t think you’d do THAT.” 

“I wouldn’t. Ever. Not even in the six months when we were separated did I even think about cheating on her, let alone actually do it. I’m not crazy. I know what I have. I’m not losing it.” 

Kyle nods slowly as he considers Tyler’s words. “I just thought you should know. In case she calls her or shows up trying to cause shit.” 

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck have you done?” 

“What I should have done that night after Esme called Nik out at dinner. I told her it was over That it just wasn’t going to work. That we’re just too different and her career doesn’t exactly leave room for a marriage, let alone a successful one.” 

“So it’s done? Totally? You and her?” 

“It never should have started in the first place. It was a bitch move. Getting mixed up with someone who tried to ruin my sister’s life.” 

Tyler smirks. “You think?” 

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad she didn’t. Screw things up with you and Esme. I mean, you can be a real dick, but I know you love her. And I know she’s happy here. That she’s happy with her life. As a wife and a mother.” 

“I like to think she is. Happy. And she’s amazing at both. I’m lucky. Even if that’s something I don’t say often enough.” 

“It’s all I want for her, you know. To be happy. Especially after all that shit with Mark.” 

“We try not to talk about that around here either. And look, no offense, but when I tell you I’m dealing with something...when I say I’ve got things under control...fucking listen to me the next time. Because I live with her. I’ve been living with her for almost seven years now. I’ve been the one with her through all the bullshit and all the hard times. All the nightmares and the panic attacks and the freak outs. I’ve been the one dealing with all of that. You just made shit worse. I would have had her talked down a lot sooner but you just kept escalating shit. When I tell you to back off, just do it.” 

“Fair enough,” Kyle agrees. 

“You and the neighbor, huh? Is that the real reason you broke things off with Nik?” 

Kyle follows him through the kitchen, out into the living room and towards the patio door. “There’s nothing between Salena and I. Nothing serious, anyway. We’re just having a good time.” 

Tyler smirks. “You mean your dick’s having a good time.” 

Kyle gives a sly grin. 

“Mine had a good time last time last night too, so...” 

“Jesus Christ,” his brother in law scowls. “That’s my sister.” 

“I’ve made five kids with your sister. I think it’s obvious we have sex.” 

“Doesn’t mean I want to hear about it. Or think about it.” 

“Look...” Tyler pauses, fingers curling around the handle of patio door. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and the neighbor and I honestly don’t give a shit, but I’m going to be pissed if Nik shows up to cause problems. I don’t need that crap. Esme especially doesn’t need it. We’ve got enough going on without having to put up with her.” 

“I told her not to bother you guys. To leave you both out of it.” 

“Yeah? And when does Nik ever do what she’s told? You trying to tell her what to do probably just pissed her off even more. I just don’t want that shit here. Around my wife and my kids.” 

“Think she’ll call Esme? Tell her the same thing you told me? That you guys were hooking up.” 

“She better hope she doesn’t. And you better not say anything to your sister, either. Because it’s not true. I’ve never cheated on her. I never will. So if you don’t keep your mouth shut....” 

“Won’t say a word,” Kyle promises. “I don’t understand how it even got this far. Nik wanting on your dick for this long.” 

“Well if you saw my dick, you’d understand. I mean, it’s kept your sister around, right?” 

Kyle smirks. “So did she catch the feels or something? Nik?” 

“Guess so.” 

“But you never did.” 

“I never saw her as anything more than a boss or a friend. We used to fuck. That’s it. Nothing serious. I never wanted it to be. She never got like this until after Esme and I got together. It pissed her off that we were fucking on the job. And then it pissed her off even more when things went further than that. Guess she thought I’d never settle down.” 

“Or if you did, you’d settle down with her.” 

“Who knows. Doesn’t matter anyway. I never saw her that way. I never saw anyone that way until your sister came along. I’d already done the marriage thing. Once was enough. I pretty much avoid forming any kind of connection with someone. No one needed to get mixed up in that kind of mess. Never met a woman that could put with it; the job and everything that came with it. It needed to be someone pretty fucking strong. No one I ever met fit that bill.” 

“Weak women need not apply, huh?” 

“Pretty much. Then your sister came along and...” he shrugs. “...I don’t know...here we are.” 

“Almost seven years and five kids later,” Kyle concludes. “Think there might be a six?” 

“Why are you so hung up on us having another kid? Addie's only three weeks. Still new.” 

“Make it a nice even number,” Kyle reasons. “Half a dozen. You haven’t thought about it?” 

“A couple times, maybe.” 

That’s a lie; over the past three days he’s thought about it at least a few dozen times. But he’s not sure if he actually wants a sixth one, or that the idea of getting dragged back into the unpredictability and the danger of the job makes him feel as if he NEEDS to have another. A way of ‘cementing his legacy’. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to talk your sister into it,” Tyler says. “She already gave in the last two times I changed my mind.” 

“This thing that happened...” Kyle gazes out the window, nodding towards where his sister sits at the top of the patio stairs, arms wrapped around her slender form. “...the PTSD or whatever. She’ll be okay, right?” 

“She usually is. Takes about a half hour, hour, before she’s back to normal.” 

“Will it ever go away? Or is just something she’ll have to learn to live with?” 

“It’s pretty damn permanent,” Tyler reluctantly admits. 

And he both blames and hates himself for it.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF PTSD, ANXIETY ATTACKS

They haven’t spoken since they left the house; a rather brief and terse conversation about where Millie had left not only her shoes, but the noise cancellation headphones she likes to use on trips out of town. That was twenty minutes ago; halfway into their drive to Port Douglas and not one single word has been exchanged, nor even a sidelong glance. They’re both on edge; the aftereffects of the long and exhausting night before, Esme’s brief yet intense battle with a PTSD ‘flare up’, and now the raw and anxious nerves surrounding the visit with Tyler’s father. 

The nightmare plays on a continuous loop in his mind; the old man’s booming voice and vicious words, his mother’s tearful begging and pleading that only cease when the beating begins, Austin’s appearance as a grown man and his refusal to lave Millie behind. It’s all there; every vision, every sound. Even the feel of his heart breaking deep within his chest and the scalding sting of tears as they rolled down his face. And the cravings linger, his brain and body desperate for those old vices. The only coping mechanism he’s ever known or practiced. It’s the familiarity of the old life that he misses; not the dirty work or the blood on his hands but the escape the job had provided him with. He’d constantly been on the go; jumping from place to place, relying only on his skills –and his confidence in them- to get him through each day. He hadn’t had time to think; too busy trying to keep himself and others alive. Now it seems as if he has all the time in the world to think. To dwell. And it’s slowly tearing him apart inside. He knows he should be grateful for what he’s been given; a second chance at life, a normal existence surrounded by people who love him and depend on him. And he IS. Yet at the same time, the past won't leave him alone. It had been his way of life for half of his years on earth, and both his brain and his body are struggling to let go. 

Guilt. So much guilt. Over the fact he just can’t it go. That he can’t leave the past where it belongs and be content with a normal existence. He’s one of the lucky ones; he’d gotten out of the game relatively healthy and with most of his sanity still intact. He was able to find someone to have a family with; someone that not only understood the hardships and the horrors of the job, but didn’t judge him for the things he’d done or the mistakes he made or the number of broken and often dead bodies he left in his wake. Tons of mercs would give anything to be in his shoes, they’d kill –figuratively and some probably literally- to get even a taste of love and happiness and domesticity. And yet he was taking it all for granted and practically pissing it away. 

He casts a glance through the rearview mirror. Millie with her earphones on, her face intense and her eyes rivetted on whatever game or movie she has playing on the tablet in her lap; her baby sister fast asleep in the car seat beside her. She’d forgiven him quickly. He’d sat down next to her on the patio and had never said a word; giving her the time and the space to brood and to get over her temporary hate for him. And in a matter of minutes she’d been climbing up into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck and he in turn had been apologizing profusely for hurting her. He’d never meant to pull her hair or yell at her afterwards; explaining that he had a lot of things on his mind and they were making him angry and anxious –and even sad- and that he never should have taken them out on her. And even though she’d held his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks and said “I still love you, daddy” in that little voice of hers, he had still felt like complete and utter shit for what he’d done. 

He looks over at his wife next; sitting with her elbow resting on the window ledge, her eyes closed with her palm pressed against the side of her face and two fingertips massaging her temple. The color has returned to face; she looks healthy again, vibrant. But her shoulders remain incredibly tense and her jaw tightly clenched. 

“It’s why you have a headache,” Tyler points out, and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Your jaw. Clenching it like that. It’s why you feel like shit.” 

He braces for it. A smart-ass comment or just a ‘fuck off, Tyler’, but neither come. Instead she gives a shaky smile and closes her eyes once more; thumb and forefinger moving up to rub at the bridge of her nose. But he notices her jaw relaxes and her shoulders drop slightly; it’s a good sign, he figures. She hasn’t told him where to go and how to get there and she’s finally starting to relax. So he takes it one step further, dropping a hand from the steering wheel and reaching across the middle console to lay it on her thigh. Feeling his own sense of relief when she doesn’t shoot him a dirty look or yank her leg away. 

“You look really nice,” he says, giving her a soft smile and squeezing her knees as he admires her simple cotton sundress. A light orange that reminds him of the tail end of the sunrise, with a neckline that sits off her shoulders and a hem that just skims the bottom of her knees. It’s hard sometimes; finding just the right words, even when it comes to the simplest of comments or what should be the easiest of compliments. He knows what he wants to say but doesn’t always know how to get the thought across. Usually he’ll rely on body language and facial expressions; she’s always been on expert on reading them, right from the start. That second morning in Dhaka when she’d told him that his eyes did all the talking for him. 

Her eyes open once more and this time she turns her face towards him and gives a smile of her own. Then lays her hand on top of his own and pushes her fingers through his. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “What happened with Millie. I didn’t mean to pull her hair. It was an accident. My mind completely wandered and...” 

“You know what’s not what upset her, right?” Esme gently interjects. “It’s not that you pulled her hair. She knew you didn’t mean to do it. It’s that you yelled at her. You hurt her feelings. You scared her.” 

“I didn’t mean to do THAT either.” 

“What’s going on with you? First last night, now freaking out on Millie.” 

“I had a nightmare. I’ve had nightmares before.” 

“I’m not talking about the nightmare. I’m talking about other things. When we were...you know...” she peeks over her shoulder, making sure that Millie isn’t paying attention. She’s fallen asleep; her head resting on the side of her booster seat, hair falling over her face and those long, dark lashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks. “You were rough,” Esme continues. “And I’m not talking about your usual rough. The rough that I like. I mean like hard core rough. It wasn’t you, Tyler. It was...I don’t know...scary.” 

He doesn’t know what to say. Or if she even wants him to say anything. At first, he’d thought it was all part of the game she likes to play; how she gets when she’s egging him on to be aggressive and manhandle her. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be pain involved; hair pulling, choking, bite marks and bruises left behind. It hadn’t even occurred to him that her resistance and her fighting back were genuine; not until she’d started to cry, and he realized that not only were the tears real, but so was the fear in her eyes. Suddenly it wasn’t a game anymore and he felt sick. That he could ever cause that kind of reaction in her when he’d spent years doing everything in his power to protect her. 

“I know we joked about this morning,” she says. “But that? Last night? That was not you. That wasn’t even Dhaka Tyler. I don’t know who that was.” 

He swallows heavily. There’s bile sitting square in his throat and he’s not sure he wants to vomit or cry. “I said I was sorry.” Tt sounds lame, even to his own ears. 

“I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want you tell me what’s going on. And don’t say nothing. Because it’s been building and building. For days. You’re like this wire that’s being pulled too tight and you’re ready to snap. Things were fine. Things were good. So good. Is it us? Is there was the real issues? You’re not happy and you don’t want there to be an ‘us’ anymore?” 

“What?” He can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes. Of all the fucking things she’d think, that is the most ridiculous. At least in his eyes. “Baby, you know that’s not it. That it’s not us. You and I are the only thing that’s NOT going to shit right now.” 

“Then what is it?” she presses. “I know you, Tyler. Better than you know yourself most of the time. I know there’s more going on than you’re telling me. What is it?” 

“It’s everything,” he admits. “Every single fucking thing. It’s Ovi and it’s Nik and it’s Millie’s birthday and it’s my father and it’s...everything.” 

“Then tell Nik you’re not doing it. Call her and tell her you changed your mind. That she needs to find someone to train him. Because if it’s going to tear you apart like this...” 

“I can’t. I can’t back out now. I bailed on her once. I can’t do it again.” 

“Fuck Nik. You did what you had to do to keep your sanity and come home to your family. You CAN back out. And you need to know if you feel you can’t do it or if it’s only going to make things worse for you. Stop being so fucking stubborn and like yourself for once. Jesus Christ. Why do you do this? Why do you not care about what you’re going through?” 

“I have to do it,” Tyler insists. “It’s Ovi, I can’t let him down. No matter how pissed off I am. No matter how much I want to fucking strangle him. If I don’t help and something happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself. And that’ll be a hundred times worse than what I’m going through right now.” 

“I don’t want you doing this if it’s going to break you, if it’s only going to tear you apart from the inside out. I don’t want that happening to you. Because there’s six people that you need you, Tyler. Whether you think we do or not. I do not want this destroying you.” 

“I just need to get through it,” he reasons. “I just need to bust his ass and hope it either breaks him and he gives up, or that I did a good enough job to keep him alive.” 

“And if you have to go in and get what? What then?” 

“Then I pray I don’t fuck up and I make it home.” 

“Well that’s reassuring,” she mutters, then inhales deeply and exhales slowly, grip on his hand tightening. And minutes pass before she speaks again. “Do you miss it?” she asks, her eyes focused on the road ahead. “The job. Do you miss it? I want you to be honest with me. I want you tell me the truth even if it’s going to hurt. Even if you know I’m going to hate what I hear.” 

“Esme...” 

“Tyler,” her tone is firm. No nonsense. “Tell me the truth. Because lying about it will only make it worse. For both of us. Do you miss it?” 

“Sometimes,” he admits. 

“How often is sometimes?” 

Sighing, he releases the hold on her hand and scratches at the back of his head. A nervous habit. “Lately? Every day.” 

“Wow...” her eyes widen, and she nods slowly. “...I was not expecting THAT.” 

He’s immediately on the defensive. “You wanted me to tell you. You told me to tell you the truth. So I am. You...” 

“Every day, though? Every day for how long?” 

“A couple weeks. Maybe more. A month at the most.” 

She blinks in disbelief. “A month? A fucking month? Addie isn’t even a month old You’re telling me that I was still pregnant with her...trying to keep her inside of me so she’d stand a chance if she was born too early...and that entire time you were missing the job? While I’m trying to keep your daughter safe and alive, you were thinking about THAT? Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” 

“I don’t want to fight,” he keeps his voice and calm and even, despite the fact he feels every remaining of control being chipped away. “You told me to tell you the truth and that’s what I’m doing.” 

“I mean I expected you to miss it and a hard time giving it up. But a month? You’ve been away from it for half a goddamn year. So five months you were fine and now all of a sudden...” 

“It’s just because of Ovi. If he’d never come to me with that shit....” 

“That was a week ago. Not a month ago. What explains the three weeks before he said anything? Are you serious right now, Tyler? What the fuck?!” 

“I don’t know what more you want me to say. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? That it makes me sick that I miss it? That I fucking hate myself for even thinking about it? Is that what you want to hear? That I feel like a shit human being because of it?” 

“I want you to hear you say that you don’t want to go back to it!” 

“I didn’t say that’s what I wanted. I said I missed it sometimes.” 

“What is there to miss? Getting stabbed? Getting shot? Getting fucked over by guys like Mahajan? Killing people?” 

“No,” he scowls. “I don’t miss that. What the fuck? Is that what you think of me? That that’s who I am? That I enjoy that shit?” 

“Then what the hell is it? Because it didn’t end well, Tyler. It didn’t end well in New Zealand and it sure as hell didn’t end well in Dhaka. What is there to miss?” 

He struggles to keep his composure. “Esme, I don’t want to fight. Can we do this later? Can we not wait until we get home to talk about this? Can we just get this visit out of the goddamn way before talking about anything else? I just want to get to my dad’s, stay for a bit, and then leave. Then we can talk about whatever you want.” 

“A month? A fucking month?” 

“Esme...stop...please...I don’t want to fight.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t...” 

“I said I don’t want to fucking fight!” He roars, and his foot slams down on the brake. Bringing the truck to an abrupt and violent halt in the middle of the backwoods country road; tires crunching on stones and gravel, sending plumes of dust and dirty swirling and dancing around them. His chest feels impossibly tight; his heart races and his lungs with every breathe he tries to draw in. He’s dizzy, nauseous; sweat gathers across his forehead and at his temples and back of his neck. And he’s suddenly aware of how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel; knuckles turning white and cracking, wounds reopening. 

***** 

“Tyler...” 

He’s vaguely aware of the hand on his bicep and the sound of her voice; urgent and concerned. It seems as if she’s far away; distorted and muffled, as if he’s underwater and can’t quite make out what she’s saying to him. And as the pressure in his chest builds, it becomes fight of flight. He chooses the latter; throwing the truck into park and reaching for his seatbelt, fingers numb and hands trembling as he struggles with the release. Frustration sets in; profanities slipping from parched lips, hot, bitter tears streaming down his cheeks. 

He feels as if he’s on auto-polit, no longer in control of his actions. And the gravel cracks and pops under his feet as he finally escapes, fresh air feeling as if it’s scalding his already aching as he draws it in large, choking gulps. Wobbling slightly with each step he takes, hands on his hips as he repeatedly paces the length of the truck. The simple counting begins to settle him; one foot in front of the other, reciting the number of steps in his head. The same way he had almost seven years ago on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. When he’d first stepped onto its warzone and began that long and tedious journey to freedom. He’d been in agonizing pain; quickly losing blood, growing weaker with each inch, yet continuing to advance. Spurred on by what he had waiting for him once he finally made it. 

And then Saju’s dead body and the sniper and his useless right leg forcing him to drag himself to safety. A tearful Ovi at his side, begging him to get up. 

Dhaka. Fuck. Fucking Dhaka. It makes the panic build again. Makes it all so seem real; like he’s right there again. Tasting his blood in his mouth and feeling that absence of strength and hope. But he hadn’t been ready to give up just yet. Because he had something...someone...to lose and was going to fight for them. And there’d been that glimmer of hope; when he’d gunned down those last two assailants and limped his way towards the finish line. But that little bastard Farhad had shot him from behind and... 

Fuck Farhad. Fuck Dhaka. Fuck Amir and Gaspar. 

He forces all thought and memory of it out of his mind; closing his eyes as he leans back against the grill of the truck. Concentrating on better things...happier things. Getting married, experiencing the birth of his ‘rainbow baby’ and all the others that came after her. Reminding himself that he has people who love him. Unconditionally. That rely on him and depend on him and make him want to be a better man. He would have given up a long ago; had he NOT had them. If Esme hadn’t of been when he woke up in the hospital nearly seven years ago. 

His breathing has returned to normal and the dizziness and nausea nonexistent when he hears one of the doors open behind him. The sudden press of her shoulder against his is comforting; it grounds him. Brings him back to the here and now. She’s done this before; talked him down from many a ledge. And he has no idea why she sticks around and keeps giving him chance after chance, but he’s thankful she does. 

“Hold your daughter, Tyler,” she says, as Addie lays along her arm. “Hold her and feel how real she is. Feel that she’s here. That YOU’RE here. Not wherever your brain is telling you you are.” 

“I can’t. Not like this. What if I hurt her? What if I...” 

“Take her,” Esme insists, and he relents, bringing that baby...HIS baby...up to his chest; one hand on the back of her head, a forearm under the bum. She’s so tiny...so light...so fragile. So perfect and pure. And he places his nose against the side of her head; feeling her hair against his skin, taking in the soft scent that clings to her clothing and hair, feeling her warm and the beat of her heart against him. 

“That’s your reason,” Esme tells him. “Your purpose. Why you have to keep fighting and not let this destroy you.” 

The tears come again, a mixture of shame and guilt. That he can have so much but not even realize it or appreciate it. That he was even given these things in the first place. All the bed decisions, all the blood on his hands... 

“I’m sorry.” he manages. “I am so fucking sorry.” 

“For what?” Her hand is on his back, resting between his shoulders. He can’t bring himself to look at her; afraid of what he’ll see her eyes. Disgust. Disappointment. Regret. “What are you sorry for?” she asks. 

“Everything. Everything fucking things. All the shit I’ve put you through. That I STILL keep putting you through. I fucking hate myself for it.” 

“I know you do. And I don’t' want you to. You have no reason to hate yourself.” 

“Dhaka.” He says simply. 

“Dhaka has nothing to do with this. I’ve told a million time that I don’t blame you for how things went. You did everything you could that day. For Ovi. For me. It was out of your control. There was nothing more you could have done. You don’t think I realize that?” 

“On the bridge. You shouldn't have had to do what you did.” 

“That’s not your fault either. I don’t blame you for what I had to do or what I saw. I don’t you responsible for that. And I sure as hell don’t hate you. What will it take to make you realize that? To stop all that guilt and all that blame and all that hate for yourself. What more do you need me to say? Because I’ll say it. Whatever you need to hear, I will tell you.” 

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I just don’t fucking know.” 

“This has to stop. The way you shouldn’t everyone goddamn thing on your own. Stop keeping shit inside and letting it eat you alive.” 

“Why do even stay with me?” he asks. “When I’m such a fucking mess?” 

“Because I love you. Because you’re my husband and my lover and my confidant and my best friend. Because you have a huge heart and you’re a good man that was forced to do terrible things.” 

“But my brain...” 

“Is troubled and beautiful and it’s going to be okay. You’re not only in this Tyler. Stop acting like you are. Let me help you. Let me love you. Please.” 

Esme curls her arm around his waist and rests her head against his arm, and for several minutes never of them speak. And eventually the tears subside, and he takes a long, shaky breath and places his lips against the side of Addie’s head. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, and presses a series of light, feathery kisses to his shoulder. 

“Yeah...I’m okay.” 

“We should just go home. You can call your dad’s and tell them that something came up and reschedule. I don’t think...” 

“I’m fine. I told Millie I’d do this for her.” 

“You know,” Esme muses. “You’re going to have to eventually say no to her. She's going need to learn about disappointment at some point in time.” 

“Not today though. Let’s just do this. For her. Okay?” 

“Okay. Do you want me to drive or...” 

“You are NOT driving my truck,” 

She smirks. “I think you love your truck more than me some days.” 

“There’s nothing I love more than you.” 

She smiles at that, and he kisses her softly. “I’ve driven your truck before,” she reminds him. 

“And I’ve had it every time. You know how long it takes me to reset everything? Mirrors? Seat? I get in and my knees are up by my ears.” 

“I have little legs! I can’t help it. Just because you’re absurdly tall...” 

“Have you ever considered I’m normal height and you’re absurdly short?” 

“You’re not normal height,” she laughs. “Not even close to it. You’re all legs and torso. And so are you kids. Well, except for this little nugget,” she smiles down at Addie. “This one is all me.” 

“Poor kid.” 

“Hey!” she objects and pinches his side. “That’s not nice!” 

Tyler grins. “Can we still be friends?” 

“Maybe. Depends how you make it up to me.” 

“I’ll buy you tacos for lunch.” 

“That’ll do,” she says, and stands on her tip toes to kiss him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

He nods. 

“I just want you to be healthy, Tyler. That’s all I want. Because I love you and I worry about you and I don’t anything happening to you. You need to stop torturing yourself so much about Dhaka. I’ve never blamed you. Or hated you. What happened is not your fault. I need you to realize that.” 

“I’ll try,” he promises. “I’ll try remembering that.” 

“You saved my life. Not just there. In general. In every way a person CAN be saved. Don’t ever forget that.” 

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her once more. “So much.” 

“I love you too. Which is why I stay. Don’t ever ask me that again.” 

“I won’t.” 

She presses a kiss to his shoulder and rubs the middle of this back. “When you’re ready,” she says, and gives him a small smile before returning to the truck. 

He wonders if he ever will be. Ready. If he’ll be able to truly let the past go.


	27. Chapter 27

She introduces herself as Bonnie. A tall, slender woman with striking features; steel gray eyes and short cropped silver hair and high cheekbones. And Tyler doesn’t think much of until she adds, “your father’s special friend”. He vaguely remembers her...or at the very least someone resembling her...standing on the front porch of the old family home. The day he’d taken Millie to see the old man before they left for Mumbai. At that time there’d been no possibility of returning to Australia; Amir Asif’s people had found out he was still alive and were out for revenge and knew exactly where to find him. Going to his father’s that day had been a last-ditch effort to hash things out and patch them up. Or so he’d thought. 

“You don’t remember me, do you,” Bonnie comments, as they linger on the front porch following introductions. And he wants to tell her that there’s some days he doesn’t remember what he did ten minutes ago, never mind what happened years ago. A side effective of not only the tremendous blood loss on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, but his brain being starved of oxygen during the times he’d flat lined in the operating room. “I was there the day you came to see your father at the old home,” she continues. “Five...six years ago.” 

“Almost six,” Tyler confirms. Millie had only been two months old then. Three weeks before they’d found out Esme was pregnant again. They wouldn’t be told it was twins for another three months. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

“I was there too,” Millie pipes up. Always confident, never shy or afraid to engage with complete strangers. Sociable, to a fault. “Do you remember me?” 

Bonnie crouches down; a gentle hand on Millie’s shoulder as she engages with her eye to eye. “I peeked in on you through the window. You were just a tiny little thing. I remember you had blond hair then. And your feet were bare, and you had the cutest little toes. Amelia, right?” 

Those big blue eyes widen in surprise and delight. “You remember my name? That was a long time ago.” 

“I used to be a teacher. I used to have to remember a lot of names. Old habits die hard. Your grandfather remembers your name, too. He woke up very excited this morning knowing that he was going to see you today.” 

Tyler can’t stop the doubtful smirk that tugs at the corner of the mouth, and he feels his wife dig her elbow into his side when she notices it. 

“Really?” Millie’s smile grows, crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. “I made him something. My birthday’s coming. I’m going to be six.” 

Tyler’s shoulders immediately tense at the mere mention of that age, and he anxiously shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It’s irrational of course; the fear that Millie will wake up the morning of the big day and will have come down with something horrible and untreatable. But his brain isn’t exactly being rational these days. 

“I want grandpa to come to my party,” Millie says. “So I made him this...” she unzips the plush unicorn knapsack she has slung over one shoulder. She’s quite eclectic today; the bag and the baby blue ‘princess dress’ with ruffles and frills and those dirty old Spiderman sandals. And she pulls out a handmade card and shows it to Bonnie. “Daddy helped me,” she proudly chirps. “It’s got sparkles and stickers of kittens and unicorns and butterflies and all the stuff I like. Even glitter. Lots of glitter. Do you think he’ll like it?” 

“It’s beautiful,” Bonnie gushes. “I think he’ll love it. Do you want to go and give it to him?” 

“By myself?” For once Millie sounds hesitant, and she looks up at her father, followed by her mother, then curls all her fingers around two of Tyler’s and leans into his legs. “I don’t think I want to go by myself.” 

“I’ll go with her,” Esme speaks up, and then takes the baby carrier from Tyler. “She probably has to go to the bathroom anyway and Addie definitely needs a diaper change.” 

He lays a hand on the small of her back and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. Things have been better since his meltdown in the middle of the road; surprisingly rational and calm considering how powerful and near crippling the anxiety and panic had been. And they haven’t talked about it or the issues surrounding it since. He knows it’s inevitable; he owes her an explanation for why he’s been so fucked up and on edge the last few days. It’s a conversation that has to happen –including the desperate cravings for the meds and the booze- but he is absolutely dreading. It isn’t the first time that he’s felt like he was slipping; he’d fallen off the wagon more than once during his various attempts at sobriety during the past six and a half years. But this time he knows there will be no more chances. If he fucks up, that’s it. He loses everything. And that’s the most terrifying thought of all. 

“First and last?” Bonnie inquires, when Esme takes an uncharacteristically nervous Millie by the hand and escorts her inside. “The girls? First and last children?” 

He nods. “There’s three more in between though. All boys.” 

“That’s quite the brood. A big family for this day and age.” 

“What can I say?” he gives a shrug. “It’s one of the few things we’ve actually agreed on in the past seven years. Wanting a big family.” 

Three had been the original limit; none of them planned. Most had come as a complete shock. The twins being quickly after Millie was born, Declan making his presence known despite the fact his mother had been on birth control at the time. Millie came about during an unconventional time, but she hadn’t been that much of a surprise; complete absence of any form of protection over the course of five days meant it would have been more a shocked had if Esme hadn’t gotten pregnant. Addie was the only one that had been somewhat considered; they’d agreed on a fifth without knowing that she’d already been conceived. 

“Your father couldn’t remember for sure,” Bonnie says. “He knew for sure that there were two of three. And he knows there’s two little girls. That’s a good day for him, when he remembers that much. A very good day.” 

Tyler just nods. Hand shoved the pockets of his jeans, eyes on his feet. He knows he should feel something when it comes to his old man’s illness. Or at the very least he should express some kind of sorrow or even remorse for letting the years pass by without attempting to mend fences. But he feels nothing. At least none when it comes to his father. But the nightmare the night before has left him feeling many things towards and FOR his mother. And for that terrified little boy that had spent years cowering in his bedroom closet. 

“I know things haven’t always been easy between you and your father,” Bonnie sympathizes. “That things were strained between the two of you.” 

“That’s what he told you?” 

“He said you were a difficult child. That it only got worse as you got older. Especially into your teen years. That you were very smart but acted out a lot. That you were always misbehaving at school and...” 

“I was difficult, was I,” Tyler gives a small, dry laugh. “I wonder why that was.” 

“I know you had your troubles. With discipline and authority. And controlling your emotions. I know...” 

“You don’t know shit,” he interjects. “Is that what he told you? That I was a bad kid? That I was out of control? That’s what he said to you?” 

“It’s understandable,” she attempts to lay a comforting hand on his forearm, but he scowls and yanks it away. “You lost your mother at a young age. That’s a tremendous loss. It’s not surprising you started acting out.” 

“You’re not blaming this on my mother,” he can’t control the vehemence that creeps into his voice. Or the way his fists continuously clench and release. And that tightness in his chest returns; a vice tightening around his heart and squeezing at his lungs. “There’s no way you can blame this on her.” 

“I’m certainly not blaming her for dying. I’m simply saying it takes its toll on loved ones. Especially those so young.” 

“He used to beat the shit out of her. Did you tell you THAT? That he used to get drunk nearly every day after work and come home and put his hands on her? Did he tell you that I’d hide in the closet listening to the whole thing? I was a little kid. Millie’s age. Even younger when it started. And that’s what I dealt with. Almost every goddamn day until the day she died. I bet he didn’t tell you all that, did he.” 

“He told me they argued. That they had their quarrels.” 

“Arguments don’t cause black eyes and busted lips and concussions and trips to the hospital.” 

“It’s not my place to judge. I don’t know what happened in the past between your father and your mother. And you were a little boy and you only HEARD these things. You don’t know for sure what happened.” 

“When I was nine, he figured I was old enough to see what was going on. He used to make me watch; used to threaten to beat my ass or hurt her even worse if I didn’t. He wanted me to see how a ‘real man controls his woman’ and how he ‘rules his house’. So I did see it. And when she died, I was the one who took over the role as his favorite punching bag; the one that he took all his shit out on. You don’t know what happened.” 

“You’re right. I wasn’t. But...” 

“You weren’t there. But I was. I lived through it. Until I got too big and strong and I was able to put fear into him for a change. So don’t fucking stand there and tell me I was a ‘difficult kid’. You have no clue what growing up in that house was like.” 

“And now you’re here for what? Revenge? That why you reached out after all these years?” 

“He called me first. A week ago, when he needed some shit done around here. And you know what, I showed up and I did it. No questions asked. I’m here because my kids should probably get to know him before it's too late. I’m not here for revenge. I’m not here to make him for what he’s done. He either won’t remember of if he does, won’t give a fuck. I’m here for my kids. Not for me. Not for him. For my kids.” 

“So you have nothing to say to him?” 

“I have tons I want to say to him. A shit load of stuff I’ve been holding onto for years. But what good is going to do? He’s never regretted a goddamn thing that he did to me or to my mum. So what good will it do? It won’t do fuck all.” 

“You have a lot of anger inside of you,” Bonnie observes. 

“You think?” 

“You haven’t had an easy life, have you. You’ve spent years with all of that anger inside of you. Trying to find a way to either get it out or cope with it. I can see it in your eyes; you’ve seen a lot of horrible things.” 

“I’ve done a lot of horrible things,” Tyler admits. “To people who deserved it.” 

“In the military.” 

“In other jobs too.” 

“What kind of other jobs?” 

“Jobs that paid me damn good money and let me pretend it was my father I was beating on.” 

Bonnie blinks at his brutal honesty. 

“You don’t know anything about me. About the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve done. The life I’ve lived. You only know what he’s told you. About his failure of a son who fucked up his life and abandoned his dying kid and had his marriage fall apart. I’m sure that’s the picture he’s painted of me, isn’t it?” 

She nods. 

“I nearly died seven years ago. On a dirty fucking bridge in Bangladesh. I came this close..." he holds his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “...to dying that day. And for some reason, I’m still here. After all the shitty things I’ve done. I got a second chance. I’ve got a wide and kids and a pretty damn good life. But I bet he never mentions that; the good things I’ve done. Because he doesn’t see me that way. He just sees me as a fuck up. The kid he never wanted; some burden that was dropped in his lap. So don’t stand here and pretend you know who I am or what I’m about. No disrespect, but you know shit.” 

“Daddy!” Millie bursts through the screen door, and his fists immediately open, and his shoulders relax. 

She’s been through enough today; she doesn’t need to see him in that kind of state. Her face is glowing, and her eyes are big and bright; she’s full of childhood exuberance and excitement. And she’s perfect and innocent and she deserves so much better than he can ever possibly give her. 

“Daddy look!” she holds out her left hand; a highly polished silver dollar nestled in her palm. “Look what grandpa gave me! It’s from the year I was born. He went to the bank and got it special just for me!” 

He knows that Esme has sent her out there; that when he hadn’t followed shortly behind and joined them in their visit that she’d immediately assumed the worst and was worried he’d have another ‘episode’. That Millie would be the quickest and easiest way to get him down of whatever edge he was teetering on. And it’s worked; those big blue eyes sparkling up at him and that little voice and the way the word ‘daddy’ sounds when it comes out of her mouth. It’s always so sweet. So genuine. And he can remember the first time she’d ever intentionally said it as baby; just shy of her first birthday, standing in her crib and reaching up for him and nearly making him cry. 

“That’s pretty cool,” he gives her a smile and lays a hand on top of her head. “You’ll have to put it somewhere safe when we get home. Where your brothers won’t find it.” 

She nods in agreement and tucks it into his pocket for safe keeping. Then looks up at him with her head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing. “Are you going to cry? You look like you’re going to cry.” 

“I’m fine,” he assures her, and combs his fingers through hair; letting the thick, soft tresses slip between his fingers. “Just tired. It wasn’t a good night last night.” 

“Daddy doesn’t sleep good sometimes,” Millie informs Bonnie, then wraps both of her arms around one of his thighs and leans against him. “He has a lot of hurts. From the bad guys.” 

“Okay...” Tyler gives an uncomfortable laugh. “...we don’t need to talk about the bad guys.” 

“He used to rescue good people from bad people,” she continues. “And he got hurt a lot when he did. And he almost died! Before he even found out I was in mommy’s tummy. He almost died and mommy almost had me all by herself and I never would have met him, and he never would have met me and...” 

“That’s enough,” he scoops her up with one arm and settles her on his lip. “Bonnie doesn’t want to hear about that. Boring stories about my old job.” 

“Daddy used to beat people up. He even killed some of them.” 

“Amelia...please...” he presses a kiss to the side of her head. “...no more, okay? We don’t talk about that stuff. Especially with strangers.” 

“Bonnie’s not a stranger. She’s grandpa’s girlfriend. So that makes her my grandma, right? I mean, other than the mean one in Colorado. She’s horrible,” she says the last part to Bonnie. “She’s so mean. I don’t like her. I’m glad we don’t' see her anymore. She makes mommy cry and then daddy gets mad and tells her off. My mean grandma, not mommy.” 

“You don’t have a grandma,” Tyler reminds her. “She died a long time ago. When I was little.” 

“Bonnie can be my grandma if she wants. I don’t mind.” 

“I wouldn’t object to that,” the woman in questions says, smiling as she reaches out to cup Millie’s face in her palm. Fingertips grazing her cheek before Tyler steps away, breaking all contact. “I never had children of my own, so I don’t have any grandkids and...” 

“Let’s go visit,” he suggests, cutting her off before she can finish. There’s no way in hell that this woman...whoever the hell she is and whatever role she plays in his father’s life...could ever fill those shoes. “Then we go and get lunch. Sound good?” 

“Sounds good,” Millie agrees, then wraps an arm around his neck and places a kiss on his cheek as he steps past Bonnie and into the house. 

**** 

The visit has gone surprisingly well; the old man in good spirits, doting on his granddaughters and spending the majority of his time cuddling the baby and reminiscing about the few rare good times that had existed in Tyler’s childhood. And he’d attempted to smile at the memories and offer his own commentary, but they’d only left a bitter taste in his mouth and a tightness in his jaw and throat. 

He’s been unable to stop the continuous loop playing in his brain, the sights and the sounds from the vivid and heartbreaking nightmare. He hadn’t wanted to hear about the bonfires on the beach or the roasting of marshmallows within their flames. He hadn’t given a shit about the odd family camping excursions they’d take along the Gold Coast. Those memories had been too rare. Too fleeting. And now that he’s an adult and can look back on the situation, Tyler knows the old man only engaged in those activities to give his mother and himself a false sense of security; so she’d stay in the marriage under the pretense that things were getting better, only to have them fall apart again weeks later. It’s how his father had kept her around; always promising to change and making noticeable improvements before resorting back to being the monster he was. 

There’d be more horrible times than good ones. And it makes him sick that the old man refuses to even acknowledge that or take responsibility for what he’d done. 

“When did Sarah dye her hair?” His father asks now, as they sit side by side on the back patio, watching as Bonnie gives Esme and Millie a tour of the various flower and vegetable gardens. 

Sarah. His ex-wife. Who’d couldn’t possibly be any different from Esme if she tried. Tall, on the thicker side, green eyes and long blond hair. And it didn’t end there. Sarah was boisterous and loud; obnoxious even. Needy and clingy and constantly needing validation. Someone who prided themselves on being strong and independent when they were anything but. 

“Dad, that’s not Sarah,” he attempts to be as calm as possible while correcting him. “Sarah and I haven’t been together in sixteen years.” 

Any mention of his ex brings back a lot of hostility; both towards her and to himself. He’d done a shitty thing; abandoning Austin when he was dying. And he’d never forgive himself for that. But their marriage had been strained and troublesome from day one; she hated being a soldier’s wife and was very vocal about it. It hadn’t taken her long to start fucking other guys while he was deployed, and he probably would have left as soon as it started had she not ended up pregnant and he’d not believed her when she’d insisted the baby was his. 

“That’s Esme,” he continues. “You came to our wedding, remember? At the same place you and mum got married. By the opera house.” 

Bonnie had explained this could happen; coherent one moment, not remembering a damn thing the next. And Tyler had long ago made a vow to himself –after a neurologist had explained his own brain issues following the Dhaka incident- that if he ever got THAT bad, he’d put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. 

Confession clouds the old man’s eyes. “How long have you been married to her?” 

“Six and a half years.” Sometimes it seems like six months, other times it feels like sixty years. So much as has happened during that time: leaving for Australia for Mumbai and winding up back in Dhaka. Taking custody of Ovi and moving to Colorado. Michael McMann and the bullshit in Ireland and then New Zealand. Five kids and a trial separation he’d been one hundred percent sure was going to turn into a divorce. And not in that order. 

“And the little girl?” 

“That’s my daughter. Amelia. And this is Adeline,” he lays a hand on the baby’s back as she sleeps soundly along his thighs, stomach down. 

“Like your mother.” 

Tyler nods, struggling with the bitterness and the anger that eats away at him. That the old man-despite all the heartache and damage he’s caused over the years- has managed to live such a long life while his mother’s had been tragically cut short. It’s what pisses him off the most; that the punishment for all the beatings and all the vile, degrading things he’s ever said has taken so fucking long to arrive. 

“It’s a beautiful name,” his father muses, a soft smile on his lips as he watches the activity in the garden; Millie crouched in the grass, giggling as a chipmunk eats sunflower seeds out of her palm and Esme takes a video of the moment. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I remember when I first saw her. Those blue eyes of hers and those long lashes and that red hair of hers...” he gives a happy sigh. “...she took my breath away.” 

Tyler wonders if it’s the dementia talking or if the old man is telling the truth; if he actually did feel that way when they first met. 

“Her brother introduced us,” he continues. “We were in the army together. I’ve told you that, yeah?” 

Tyler nods. 

“Brought me to his place when we were on a leave. That’s how we met. Your mother and me. Through him. She was sitting in the backyard, reading a book under a tree. And she looked up and smiled at me and it was like my heart stopped beating and the earth stood still. You ever felt like that?” 

He smiles as he looks across the yard, at where his wife is taking her turn at feeding the chipmunk; showing even more excitement and wide-eyed enthusiasm and wonder than Millie had. He feels it now in the same way he’d felt it seven years ago when she’d walked into his place in the outback; he’d never met anyone like her and knew he never would again. 

“All the time,” Tyler says. “Every time I look at her.” 

“It’s an amazing feeling, innit? Especially when they smile at you or they take your hand or touch your arm. And how they sometimes look at you like you’re the most incredible guy on the face of the earth, even when you’re feeling anything but.” 

He nods. He’d experienced that last night when he’d had the nightmare and the panic attack that had accompanied it. And in the middle of the road that very afternoon when he’d had the ‘meltdown’. She never judges him; tending to him with the same kind of tenderness and patience that she uses with the kids. Sticking by him through insurmountable amounts of bullshit and heartbreak. Always looking at him like he’s the strongest, bravest man in the world; always trusting him with her life and the lives of their children. Even when he feels like a complete and utter failure. 

“You love her.” It’s more a statement than a question. 

“With everything I am and everything I have,” he admits. 

“So you got this one right, at least. Didn’t go so right the first time, did it.” 

Tyler smirks. He knew it could only last so long, the fond reminiscing and the touching words. “No,” he agrees. “It didn’t.” 

“You did a horrible thing, you know. Taking off like that. I don’t care what your reasons were. You never abandon your own like that.” 

He nods slowly, taking in his father’s words. It’s nothing he hasn’t said to himself a million times over the past sixteen years. There isn’t a vicious word that he hasn’t called himself, no end to the guilt and the regret that he feels. It’s a cross to bear; one he’ll carry for the rest of his life. 

“Hope it doesn’t happen again,” the old man sighs. “When something goes wrong. Because you’ve got a good thing there and if you walk away again...” 

“I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear me say? That I royally fucked things up and I feel horrible about it? Is that what you want to hear? That I hate myself and I’ll probably hate myself until the day I die? That’s what you want me to say, yeah?” 

“It’s nice to hear a little remorse come out of you.” 

“You’re going to get on my ass about remorse? You? Of all people?” Tyler scoffs. “That’s rich. That’s really fucking rich.” 

His father’s eyes narrow. “You don’t talk to me like that, boy.” 

“First of all, I’m not your boy. I’m a grown ass man. With a wife and kids. Second, I’ll talk to you any goddamn way I want.” 

His voice is louder and tone harsher than he’d intended, and he sees how both Bonnie and Esme look up and glance towards the porch. A frown on his wife’s face, her brow furrowed. He can see the concern in her eyes...the worry. And he’s thankful when Millie tugs on her hand and diverts her attention. 

“Don’t you talk to me about remorse and regret,” Tyler lowers his voice. “After everything you’ve done. All the things you said, all the things you did. To mum. To me. You have the nerve to get on my ass about the mistakes I’ve made?” 

“I know I haven’t always been a good man...” 

“You’ve never been a good man. When the hell were you a good man? You think being nice once and while and taking us places and buying mum flowers or jewelry made up for the shitty things you did? You’d promise to change, and you would, and it would last what? A month? At the most? Just so she’d stick around. Then you’d start your crap again.” 

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, Tyler. But...” 

“I was a kid. A fucking kid. And I used to hide in my closet and listen to everything you said and everything you did. I remember going to the hospital to see mum and you warning me on the way there not tell the nurses or the doctors the real reason she was in there. Because you’d pushed her down the stairs and busted her head open and you convinced them that she fainted and fell. Do you remember that? Because I fucking remember that. And I was Millie’s age when that happened.” 

His father’s face hardens, eyes darkening, jaws clenching. 

“Yeah, you remember. I know you do. You remember all the times you talked down to her and all the times you put your hands on her. How about when you tried convincing me that that’s the way all women shouldn’t be treated? That all men were just like you. And thank God I never believed it, or I would have grown up thinking that it was true, and I would have beat on my wife and my own kids. I’ve done some shitty things over the past six and a half years; I’ve lied, and I’ve broken promises, and I’ve made some bad choices. But I’ve never...ever...raised a hand to my wife. And if I ever do...if I ever even think about...I’ll fucking kill myself. Because that means I’m just like you and she deserves better than that.” 

“Hey,” Esme greets, as she climbs the stairs to the patio. “Everything okay? You seem a little...upset.” 

“I’m fine,” he assures her, and she steps behind his chair, putting her hands on his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You ready to go? I’m ready to go.” 

She nods. “Millie’s going to get hangry soon and you’re...” her hands slide across his shoulders and down his arms and then back up again, pausing to squeeze his biceps as she drops a kiss on the top of his head. “...pretty tense.” 

“I’ll be okay,” he says, and lifts a sleeping Addie from his lap and tucks her into his chest. Forearm against her back and palm supporting her head as he stands. “We were just talking. Right, dad?” 

“My son has a big mouth,” he responds. “Tried to slap it off him a few times growing up but obviously it never worked.” 

Esme nervously chews her on her bottom lip, eyebrows arched as she looks up at her husband. 

“It’s fine,” Tyler runs his free hand over her hair, settling it on her back as he kisses her forehead. “Just ignore him. He didn’t like the things I had to say.” 

“Can we just go?” she asks, visibly anxious. “Let’s just go. Don’t say anything else. Not with Millie here. Please.” 

He nods in agreement, then glares at the old man when he gives a derisive snort and a snide, “Obvious who wears in the pants in your family.” 

“What do you want me to do, dad? Beat her into behaving? Knock her around so it will keep her in line? Think that will show her who’s boss? Break her nose, give her a black eye, knock out some teeth?” 

“Tyler...please...” Esme pleads, and her fingers curl around his forearm, nails pressing into the flesh. “...let’s just go.” 

“She’s probably the one that knocks YOU around.” 

“You know what, dad...” 

“Tyler...” her voice is more forceful now. “...enough. Just walk away...be the bigger man and just walk away.” 

“Better listen to her,” the old man scoffs. “She probably lays a beating on you from time to time. Seeing as you’ve gotten so soft.” 

“Tyler...” Esme glares at him. “...don’t even engage. Just go. Go and take the baby to the car and I’ll get Millie. Please?” One hand fists the front of his t-shirt, the other reaches up to rest on the side of his face; fingers pressing into his cheek, encouraging him to look down at her. “Just take the baby to the car, okay?” 

“Are we leaving?” Millie happily skips up the stairs, pigtails swinging and bouncing. “I’m so hungry could eat the ass out of a dead rhinoceros.” 

“Excuse me?” Esme frowns. “What did you just say? Who taught you THAT?” 

“That sure as hell wasn’t me,” Tyler says. “Of all the weird things I’ve said, that’s not one of them.” 

“Ovi taught me,” Millie sheepishly admits. “Sorry. I AM hungry though.” 

“Go with daddy,” Esme instructs. “I have to get Addie’s baby bag and your shoes from the house. Go on. Both of you.” 

He places a hand on her hip and his lips to her ear. “Don’t say anything. Even if he tries to cause shit with you.” 

“I won’t,” she promises, and he pecks her lips before scooping Millie up and slinging her over his right shoulder, her head and top half of her body dangling down his back. 

“Bye grandpa!” the five-year-old calls in between her giggles. “See you at my party! Don’t tickle me too, daddy!” she squeals. “You’ll make me pee my pants!” 

Esme smiles as she watches them go, waiting until they disappear around the side of the house before turning to her father in law, smile fading. 

“What the hell is wrong with you? That is your son? Do you have any idea how lucky you are to even still have him in your life?” 

He doesn’t respond. Mouth set in tight, thin line as he stares blankly ahead. 

“He could have died seven years ago. In fact, he did, and they brought him back. Twice. If there’d been a third time, they weren’t even going to try to save him. Do you have any idea what he’s been through? What he still goes through? What his life has been like in the last sixteen years?” 

Still no answer. 

“Don’t you even wonder what he was doing when he left the army? Do you want to know? Do you care at all?” 

“Security work.” 

“He was a mercenary,” she says, and she notices his eyes widen. “A hired gun. He went into shitty places and into dangerous situations and put his life on the line to help other people. You’re lucky to even have him and you’re going to treat him like you do? You can’t see that he’s trying? That he wants to get through to you? You totally screwed him up as a kid. And it’s left him totally messed up as an adult and...” 

“Esme...” Bonnie’s voice is stern as she climbs the steps. “...I think you should leave.” 

“I know you’re never going to apologize to him. Even though you should. And he’d probably never accept it anyway. But he’s still your son. And he’s going through hell right now and he’s trying so damn hard to get himself better and if you’d just meet him halfway...” 

“I owe him nothing.” 

“He’s your child! And I know he’s a grown ass man and he’s a husband and a father, but he’s still your son. And I should hate you for what you did to him when he was a kid and how it’s messed up for the rest of his life. But I actually feel sorry for you. Because he’s a big man with a big heart and he’s good to me and good to his kids. He is trying so hard. And I need you to help him. I’m begging you to help him. Or help me help him. Please. That’s all I want. For him to be okay.” 

“It’s too late,” the old man says. “It was too late years ago.” 

“You don’t know what you’re missing. The kind of man that he is. And I find it pathetic that you can’t even look him in the eye and tell him you’re sorry. Whether he wants to believe it or not. You can’t even love your own son. What kind of parent does that? What kind of evil lives inside someone that that they turn out the way you did?” 

“Esme...” Bonnie tightly grips her arm. “...you need to go.” 

“And you’re just making this worse,” she addresses the other woman. “You’re ignoring it too. Everything he did to Tyler, everything he did to Tyler’s mother. You’re just turning a blind eye to it and enabling this shit. What is wrong with you people? I feel sorry for both of you. I really do.” 

“Leave,” Bonnie orders. “Now.” 

“I am going,” she yanks her arm out of the woman’s grasp, then turns on her heel when she reaches the door. “If he’d died what then? Would you have even felt bad? Would you even have mourned him? If I hadn’t had been there, he would have died alone in that hospital and you probably never would have known. How pathetic is that? You wouldn’t have known your own child was dead. I had to call you and tell you what happened. And even then, you showed up pissed drunk and you brought his ex-wife. Classy. Real classy.” 

And with that she stomps into the house, slamming the door behind her.


	28. Chapter 28

After lunch they pay a visit to Port Douglas beach. The town is popular among tourists and the area is packed; every inch crammed with families in swimsuits and pop up shelters, young adults playing football and frisbee, children building sandcastles and running in and out of the water. There’s no rush to get home. Kyle and Ovi have the boys under control and there are still a lot of hours left in the day. It’s been a long one already; the panic attack in the middle of the road, the disastrous ending to what had started as a relatively positive and pleasant visit with Tyler’s father.

Neither of them speak about it; Millie is young and impressionable and over the moon about having a grandfather in her life and neither want to ruin that for her. She’s done nothing but talk about her time there; the kisses and the cuddles and the silver dollar and getting a chipmunk to eat out of her hand. And it made them both smile as they listened to her; that joyful rambling and those musical giggles and the exuberance over her upcoming birthday party. Neither have the heart ro rain on her parade; not wanting to break her heart with the cold hard fact that her grandfather probably won’t even show up that day. It’s who he is. Who he’s always been. And while she’d be initially crushed, having all of her friends at the house -and the appearance of her new puppy- would help her recover quickly, telling her too soon would cause her to dwell. Which would only work her up into an emotional frenzy that would be almost impossible to control.

While she plays in the surf -princess dress and all- they lounge in the sand; spreading out a tattered and well loved blanket that Tyler had brought along from the truck. It’s seen a lot of years; the same one they’d sit on when they’d take Millie to the beach when she was Addie’s age. Or on trips to the park or out for picnics or on camping trips when they’d live in Colorado. And had been around since before then; the edges frayed, holes patched together with messy stitching, the colors faded. Sometimes she wonders just what that blanket has seen; the history and the memories that those fibres hold. If it had ever been taken on excursions like this with his first family. If his ex wife had sat on the very spot where she sits now nursing their baby, if Austin had ever laid on it when he was Addie’s age or if he had ever been wrapped around his wet and shivering body when there’d been no towel to be had. 

She knows it sounds stupid; even thinking about things like that and allowing them to get under her skin. And in the past six and half years the only part of his previous life she’d ever thought about or they’d ever really discussed was Austin’s illness and eventual death. Even after Sarah had shown up at the hospital following Dhaka, she’d never sat back and thought of the fact he’d been someone else’s husband first. So caught up in spending every waking moment at his bedside and then finding out she was pregnant that everything seemed irrelevant. And normally it doesn’t bother her; the thought of him being with someone else. Hell, he’s been with lots of women by his own admission and she’d never thought twice about it or even cared what or who’d been done prior to her. Aside from Nik. His past is just that. In the same way hers is. But when your father in law –sick or not- constantly refers to you by the ex-wife's name despite the fact it’s been sixteen years and the two of you look nothing alike, it tends to weigh you down. 

She tries to put it out of her mind, concentrating on the baby pressed to her chest as she feeds, and Millie twenty yards away already making friends. 

“I don’t know how she does it,” she comments. “Everywhere we go it’s like this.” 

Tyler lies on his stomach beside her, a cheek resting on the forearm he’d been using as a pillow. And he raises his head and glances over his shoulder to where his daughter is sitting in the wet sand, playing and animatedly conversing with other kids. 

“Give it a few minutes,” he says. “She’ll punch one of them in the face and that’ll be the end of it.” 

Esme frowns. 

“She’s like you,” he says with a yawn, and rests his back down on his arm, face turned towards her. 

“I don’t punch people in the face five minutes after I meet them.” 

“I don’t mean that. I mean she’s social. She makes friends easily. People are drawn to her. It’s the same way with you.” 

“I was paid to be that way.” 

“You can’t fake shit like that. People either like you or they don’t. It was just a plus that it made it easier to sweet talk and manipulate them afterwards.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or...” 

“I mean it worked on me didn’t it,” he chides. 

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face as she leans down to place a chaste on his lips. 

“You think you’d be used to that after almost seven years.” 

“I obviously am. I’m still here, aren’t I.” 

“Yeah...” he grins and reaches out to lay a hand on her thigh. “You are. For some goddamn reason you’re still around. And I’m still putting up with it.” 

“You’d be miserable if I suddenly wasn’t around anymore. Well, more miserable than you already are,” she teases, and then gives a small yelp and directs a kick in his direction when he pinches the inside of her thigh. 

Rolling over onto his back, he groans at the stiffness in his shoulders and neck as he props himself up on his elbows, knee audibly cracking when he stretches out his legs. 

“Baby, every day your body is making more and more noise.” she comments, and while it’s meant to be playful, he can hear the concern that tinges the words. 

“You think the noises are bad, you should feel what it’s like to be in this body.” 

He’s been pushing himself too hard in the gym; extending hour and a half work out to nearly three. More work than he’d put into getting into the shape he’s in now. He’s already thirty pounds heavier than he’d been in Dhaka; shoulders and chest wider, arms bigger, calves and thighs more powerful. He’s the most confident he’s been in years; physically he knows he’s up to any challenge that he could face IF he has to go get back into the game. The skills never leave you; they’ll come back quicker and sharper than ever once he trains Ovi. His worry is his mental state; if his brain will be able to handle the strain and the pace and the things he’ll have to resort to in order to stay alive. 

“She’s more like you than you realize,” Tyler says, as he watches Millie with her new friends; smiling at the sound of her laugh and the sight of her smile. 

“Oh please,” Esme laughs. “Where do you see this? Because she is all you. Head to toe. You even have the same ears and the same feet. Never mind the facial expressions and the attitude.” 

“There’s a lot of you in here. I see it more every day. How easy she trusts people and makes new friends. And never mind how fucking smart she is. She’s scary almost. That she’s THAT smart.” 

“She’s the perfect mix of both of us, I guess. Everything that’s amazing in you and everything that’s amazing in me. Although I think we both know where she got all her bad stuff from.” 

He stares at her pointedly. 

“As if Tyler. She totally got her asshole side from you. You can’t convince me otherwise. Where do you think she got her temper and her mouth from?” 

“And luckily for her, she got the looks from me too.” 

“You’re such a fucker,” Esme laughs, and flicks her thumb and forefinger against his earlobe. “Are you calling me ugly?” 

“Never. Look how beautiful Addie is and she looks just like you.” 

She smirks. “That was an extremely good save on your part.”

“You know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me, baby. There’s no one that can come close to you and you know that.”

She does. It’s one of the things he’s always been good at ; making her feel like she’s the most incredible woman on the face of the earth. Always finding ways to let her know how beautiful she is in his eyes. It could be in his eyes when he simply looks at her; whether she’s dressed up with makeup on or it’s five thirty in the morning and her hair is a half assed ponytail and yesterday’s eyeliner is smudges and she already has baby puke on her pajamas. Or the little compliments he tosses if when she’s least expecting it, or how he kisses and touches her when their love making is slow and tender and he spends his time worshipping every inch of her body. There’s never a time where she hasn’t felt unattractive in his eyes. Even when she’s constantly bringing attention to all her faults and blemishes.

“And I would be miserable,” he says. “If you weren’t around anymore.”

He hates thinking about it; what it would be like if -for some unknown and horrible reason- he found himself as a single father to give kids. And it’s been weighing heavier on his mind since Michael McMann had revealed all of the sick and twisted things he would have done to her before killing her. It has only added insult to injury; for years he’s been carrying around the secret of the real details behind Gaspar’s five million dollar offer and what Asif had had in store for her. Some of things are just better left unsaid, and it’s a burden he’s willing to carry for the rest of his life.

“You’re that used to me, are you?” She chides, attempting to inject a little humour into a suddenly tense situation. She knows how his brain works; the wheels that start turning when he begins to dwell on the ‘what if’s’. And she hates the way his smile disappears and his features harden and eyes darken. “You’ve gotten that spoiled? Having someone do your laundry, clean up after you, put out whenever you want.”

That manages to get a grin out of him, and he rolls over onto his side, pressing a kiss to her thigh before resting on his elbow, side of head in his palm. 

“That’s your bad shoulder,” she points out.

“It’s fine. Hardly bothering me today.”

“And by hardly bothering you, you mean on a pain scale of one to ten, you’re at a twelve instead of...I don’t know...a hundred.”

“You worry too much.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m sorry I care about you and want you to be okay. I’m sorry that I’d you to live past fifty. That I’d like us to grow old and gray together and constantly drive one another instead until I take my last breath.”

“A bad shouldn’t isn’t going to kill me.”

“You said yourself it’s getting worse.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s going to put me in an early grave. So stop…” he reaches across his body with his free hand and rubs her knee, kissing her thigh once more. “I’m fine. I’ll get it looked at as soon as this shit with Ovi is done. I promise.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” she huffs.

“So you tell me. Every single day. For the past almost seven years. I’m fine...honest…” his hand rests on her legal fingers brushing against the smooth, sensitive skin at the back of her knee. “If there was something really wrong, I’d tell you.”

“You would?”

His eyes fix on hers.

“Don’t give me that look,” Esme scolds. “Don’t use those eyes against me. You know they’re my weakness.”

“I thought your weakness was my back and shoulders.”

“The eyes are what get me the most. And the easiest. How do you think you managed to seduce me as easily as you did?”

He gives a sly grin. “I thought it had something to do with the hand I had around your throat.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You like it.”

She just grins.

“You don’t have to admit it. You’ve made it pretty obvious. I mean, we don’t have five kids for nothing.”

“We could have made them all through boring old vanilla sex,” she points.

“Only we know we didn’t, so…” her rolls onto his stomach once more, attempting to relieve some of the discomfort in his joints. And he drapes an arm over her thighs, side of his head once again resting on a forearm. 

And he closes his eyes; the calmest he’s been all day with the sun beating down on his tired and aching body, relaxed by the sound of the ocean and the feel of her skin against his.

***

“Are we going to talk about it?” Esme inquires.

“About what?” Tyler mumbles sleepily.

“About what happened today. On the way to your dad’s.”

“It was a panic attack,” he states matter-of-factly.

“I know that.”

“I’ve had them before. You’ve been with me for most of them.”

“And I know that too.”

“I thought we got past it. It was only a few minutes and…”

“Forty five.”

His eyes flicker open. “What?”

“It was forty five minutes.”

Tyler frowns. Had it really been that long? Time hadn’t seemed to drag that slow. He would have swore it was ten minutes, tops. Not closer to sixty. “Are you sure?”

“I timed it. From the time you got out of the truck and when you got back in. It was forty five minutes.”

“That has to be some kind of record,” he dryly remarks.

“This isn’t a joke, Tyler. They’re getting worse. They’re getting more intense and they’re lasting longer and…”

“I’m taking the meds if that’s what you’re going to ask next. I haven’t skipped any days.”

“Maybe you need to be on different meds,” Esme suggests, as she peeks under the edge of the receiving blanket that protects Addie from the sun. She’s fallen asleep mid feed and her mother runs a finger tip along the bottom of both feet to tickle her awake. And the baby gives a small start and then returns to eating. “Stronger meds.”

“I don’t want to be on any meds.”

“Well that’s not an option, is it. What is going on with you, Tyler? Ever since this whole Ovi thing. You’ve just been...I don’t know...off.”

“Do we have to talk about this now? Here? Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“There’s people at our house.”

“There’s people here too,” he points out.

“Strangers. Who aren’t even listening.”

“I already told you. The shit with Ovi’s brought a lot up to the surface. Things I haven’t thought about since we left Colorado. About the job.”

“And the fact you miss it.”

“Are we going to fight? If we’re going to fight, let’s just stop now, yeah? Because I do not want to fight with you. Especially about this.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either. But that hurt. Hearing that. Hearing you say you miss it and you’d rather be out there than home with your family.”

“First of all…” he pushes himself up onto his elbows. “...that is not what I said. I did not say I’d rather be doing the job than be with you and the kids. I’d never fucking say that. I said I miss it sometimes. Not that I want to go back to it. That’s the last fucking thing I want.”

“How can you miss it and not want to go back? That makes no sense.”

“It’s not the actual job I miss. It’s the pace of things. Constantly moving from one thing to the next. No time to think too much and dwell on shit. Now I have too much time to think and it’s doing my fucking head in and I feel like I’m going insane. I went from that to this…” he nods in Addie’s direction. “...and it’s two entirely different things and I’m having a harder time dealing with it than I thought I would.”

“Do you regret it? Going from that to this?”

“Of course I don’t. All that matters to me is you and the kids. You know that. But sometimes I miss the way things were. Not the beating the shit out of people, not the blood, not the killing, not the crazy shit. Just the pace. That’s it.”

“The escape of it.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I guess. I can’t explain it. I just know how it feels. Do I want to go back to it? Fuck no. I have way too much to lose.”

“Would you go back if there was no me?”

“Esme, I never would have stopped doing it. And if there was no you, I’d be dead. So that question doesn’t even make sense. If there was no you, I would have died in Dhaka. That’s not a maybe. That’s a sure thing.”

“And if I was to say that I’d be okay with it if…”

“But you wouldn’t be,” Tyler doesn’t give her the chance to finish. “So why even ask that?”

“Because if it’s the only thing that’s going to keep you happy and sane…”

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying. I am happy. With you and the kids. I’m happy with my life. I’m just having a hard time letting go of who I was before. Just because I miss it sometimes doesn’t mean I want to go back. The job was an escape, like you said. From my shitty fucking life. If I hadn’t had the job, I would have killed myself a long time ago. But now I have you and I have my kids and that’s all I want. I just need time; to let this go. And I need you to stop taking it personally. This isn’t about you and I, this isn’t about the kids. It’s all about me.”

She nods slowly, considering his words. And neither speak for several minutes; her eyes fixated on Millie and her new friends as they laugh and splash in the water, his eyes intently watching her. Chewing nervously on her bottom lip and fidgeting with a loose thread on the edge of the receiving blanket; eyes hidden behind the sunglasses she’d stolen off him earlier. 

“If going back is what you need to do, then…” she shrugs. “...you need to do it, I guess.”

“I already said I’m not going back. I don’t want to go back. Why…?”

“If the job is what’s going to keep you sane, you need to do it. Because I don’t want you staying home and then finding out six months later or a year later or two years later than you were unhappy the entire time. Because that will turn into a lot of regret and a lot of animosity and I don’t want that. Because that will destroy us. A lot quicker than the job will.”

“Fuck me…” he groans, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Are you even listening to me? I don’t want to go back. You’re assuming I do because I said I missed it. I gave it up. To be with you. To be with my kids. I walked away. For you. For us. And now you’re telling me it's okay I go back and abandon my family like all the times I did before. That makes no fucking sense.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she explains. “And if that’s what makes you happy.”

“For fuck sakes,” Tyler snarls. “That’s not what makes me happy. You make me happy. Our kids make me happy. Not the job. Fuck the job. All I said was that sometimes I miss it. The pace. The not having time to sit and overthink shit and dwell on everything. That’s all I said.”

“I don’t know what more to do,” she confesses, sounding dangerously close to tears. “I don’t know how else to help you. And it just seems easier if I just give up and you back. Because I’d rather you do that and things go back to somewhat normal than see you going through what you’re going through now. Mauve that was our ‘normal’. The job. You being gone so much and me just dealing with it.”

“None of that is normal,” Tyler argues. “That’s a fucked up version of normal.”

“But it worked.”

“Until it didn’t. Until things really started to go to shit in New Zealand. Or are we just going to pretend that never happened?”

She sighs heavily.

“It was my decision to leave. I gave it up. Willingly. Because I couldn’t do it anymore. Because I was sick all the bullshit that came with it. I was tired of leaving you and the kids and constantly worrying about whether I was going to make it home or not. And I know you don’t want to think about that every time I walk out the door; whether or not I’m coming back.”

“That’s the last thing I want. But…”

“How can there be a ‘but’? How is this making any sense to you? The job would only make things worse.”

“I could learn to deal with,” Esme insists. “And I did deal with it.”

“Until you couldn’t anymore and you kicked my ass out. Or did you forget about that? Six months, remember? We were apart six months and I was a fucking mess. All I did was work and drink and fuck things up with you and my kids. I’m not going through that again. And you shouldn’t want to either.”

“It wouldn’t get that bad this time. We wouldn’t let it. There were other things going on then, too. Not just the job. You went back to drinking and the meds, and it all mixed together and it was a complete and utter shit show. But this time…”

“It’s a stupid fucking idea and you know it and I can’t believe you’d even bring it up. Like what the fuck, Esme?”

“So what do we do? Because I am all out of ideas, Tyler. I don’t know what more I can do to help you deal with whatever you’re dealing with. I get you miss it. I do. And I knew it would be hard for you to walk away; it was a huge change in your life. But there’s many things going on and you’re keeping them inside and I don’t know how to get through to you.”

“So you just want to give up? Just say ‘fuck it, go back to the job and get yourself killed’? Because that’s what it sounds like. That you’re giving up. On me. On us.”

“I am not giving up,” she argues. “If the job is the one thing that can actually keep everything together…”

“Esme…” he sighs heavily, then closes his eyes briefly, hand splayed across his forehead; thumb rubbing at one temple, fingers working at the other. “...it’s what nearly destroyed us before. What makes you think this time would be any different?”

“Because this time I’m telling you I’m okay with it. If you feel it’s what you need to do, I’m fine with it. I’m giving you my permission. It’s not like you’re just going ahead and making the decision on your own like last time.”

“No. You’re making the decision for me. You’re deciding it’s the only way to fix things and I’m telling you it’s not the answer.”

“So what is?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he snaps, voice louder and much harsher than he’d intended it to be. And he sits up turning his body to face the water, their shoulders pressed together. “The job is not the answer,” he insists. “I don’t know what is, but it’s not that. I won’t survive if I go back. I already know that. Not with everything else that’s going on.”

An eyebrow lifts. “Everything else? What…?”

“There’s something I need to tell you. And I should have told you soon as it started. But we just had Addie and you were going through your own shit and I didn’t want to add to it and make things worse for you.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles. “How bad is it?”

“It’s pretty bad.”

“Are you having an affair?”

“What?” He gives an incredulous laugh. “No. Fuck no. That is the last thing I’d ever do. I’m not a cheater. You know that.”

“So it’s worse than that?”

“Yeah...I guess...in its own way.”

“Tyler, what have you done?”

“It’s pretty fucked up and you’re going to be pissed or disgusted or both. I don’t know.”

“Tyler…”

“I started about a week ago. When Ovi brought all this job shit up. I didn’t think much of it at first. Because I’ve had weak moments before. You know that. That there’s times I’ve felt like I was slipping.”

“With alcohol.”

He nods. “That day we went out for lunch. That place he picked was a sports bar.”

“Please tell me you didn’t…”

“Drink? No. I didn’t. But I could smell it. I could even taste it. So I just got away from it the best I could and I never thought about it again the entire time I was there.”

“Okay, so you had a weak moment. That’s not unusual. Even the doctor said…”

“I thought that’s all it was. I’ve had them before. Where I thought I wanted to drink; something to just take the edge off. But then it started getting worse and worse and started thinking about it all the time. Especially when the nightmares started. And suddenly I couldn’t control it. The need for it. Especially after last night.”

“Tyler…” she inhales deeply and exhales slowly, attempting to keep her composure. “...what did you do?”

“Nothing. I wanted to, but I didn’t. But I was so close, Esme. I was so fucking close. To actually leaving the house and finding a way to get it. And not just the booze. The meds too. The Oxy. I was so fucking close,” his voice falters; a mixture of shame and defeat. It’s the first time he’s actually let the addiction beat him. For months he’s been battling it. Confidently. And although there’d been times he felt as if he were slipping, he’d always been able to shake it. Now he feels as if he’s drowning; addiction pulling him down and refusing to let him go unless he surrenders. 

And that’s the last thing he wants.

“Even the Oxy?”

He can hear it in her voice; the emotion that weighs down every word. And he closes his eyes in a vain attempt to hold back the flood of tears that threaten to escape. “Yeah…” he admits. “...even those.”

“Why? Why all of a sudden? Why…?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of them before. It’s always been just the booze. And then nightmares about Austin and Millie started and then last night about my mum and my dad when I was just a kid and the pain…” he shakes his head. “...I’m in so much fucking pain. All the time. And I don’t know if it’s physical or mental or what the fuck it is. I just know I need something...anything...to just take it away.”

She places Addie in the middle of the blanket and moves closer to him; on her knees as she wraps an arm around his shoulders and then places her free hand on the side of his head, drawing it down towards her.

“Don’t..” he objects. “...people are fucking staring.”

“So? Fucking let them. Who cares?” Her fingers are in his hair; tips massaging his scalp. And he circles her waist with both arms and rests his forehead against her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to. I just couldn’t. Not when you’ve already got so much else going on. Not when you’ve got your own issues and your own shit to deal with. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“It would have made it worse...so much worse...had you gone ahead and started back up again. That would have been the worst possible thing that could have happened. You should have told me.”

“I thought I could just deal with it on my own. I’ve done it before.”

“But you shouldn’t have to deal with it alone. And you don’t have to. Jesus Christ, Tyler. You have to stop doing this. Keeping everything inside of you. This doesn’t just affect you. You’re an addict. You’ll always be an addict. You’re always going to have to fight. You can’t just go back on that shit and then come off it and over and over again. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know. I know it doesn’t.”

“You need to tell someone. The therapist. The doctor. Someone.”

“I’m telling you.”

“Someone can actually help you. I can only do so much. I can help you and talk you down and get you away from it, but eventually that’s not going to work anymore. You need help. Professional help.” 

“So they can send me back to rehab? Weeks away from my family?”

“You haven’t actually relapsed. They wouldn’t send you there unless you did. But they can stop you from needing to go back. That’s what you want, right? You don’t actually want to be that way again, do you?”

“Of course I don’t. But that’s all I know. That’s how I coped. The meds and the booze. I don’t know anything else.”

“And that’s what they’ll help you with. Finding ways to cope. You’re not the first person that’s come to them with this, trust me.”

“I feel like a huge fucking failure. Like I’m just one big fuck up after another.”

“First of all, you’re not a failure. People relapse. It happens. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. And second, you’re not a fuck up. You’re strong and you’re brave and…”

“Stop...just stop...stop saying that shit…”

You’re strong and you’re brave,” she adamantly continues. “And you’ve been through so much in the past seven years alone. Things that would have easily killed a weaker person. You’ve been through hell and back and you still don’t give up. So you stop. You stop shit talking yourself all the time. You are not a failure and you’re not weak and you’re definitely not a quitter.”

“I swear to God if you tell me not to let anyone dull my sparkle…”

She laughs at that. “Well, your beard does still have glitter in it. I meant to tell you earlier and I never got around to it and you’ve been walking around looking a little sparkly today.”

“What the fuck…” he pulls away, running a palm over his beard and then frowning at the glitter that sparkles against his skin. “...are you fucking kidding me?”

“I told you that shit gets everywhere. And it takes forever to get it out. I mean, it’s not a bad color on you at least.”

“I’m going to have to shave the whole thing off.”

“Like hell you are. It will come out. Eventually.”

He frowns. “How long is eventually?”

“Two or three…”

“Days?”

“Weeks? Months? I don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ..”

“It’s not that bad,” Esme assures him. “Honest. It’s only a little bit here and there. And someone will only notice it if they get really close to your face. Or when the sun hits it just right.”

“It’s coming off,” he decides. “As soon as we get home.”

“Does it help if I tell you it looks cute?”

“That makes it fucking worse!”

“Don’t shave your beard off. Not all the way. Trim it if you have to. But don’t get rid of it entirely. I’ll cry. Ugly cry. And you don’t when I ugly cry, so…”

“I hate when you ugly cry.”

“Exactly. And I’ll ugly cry times ten if you shave your beard right off. And I’ll ever have sex with you again. Ever. You’ll have tons of calluses on your palms in one month alone.”

“I already have calluses,” he reminds her.

“You’ll have more. A lot more. Tons. Because I will cut you off and I will not give in and I know you won’t go and get it somewhere else so...yeah...callouses.”

“First you were upset about the hair. Now it’s the beard.”

“I caved in with the hair. And I still miss that hair. But I’m not giving in when it comes to this. I don’t care if you trim it. Just don’t get rid of it. It’s how I know you. How I’ve always known you. It’s like a security blanket for me. So don’t…” she pecks his lips. “...please?”

“You are so fucking lucky I love you.”

“I am,” she agrees. “And we’re going to get through this. Everything that you’re going through. We’ve gotten through a lot worse. IF we can survive that first year after Dhaka, I’m pretty sure we get through anything.”

“I still have to do this shit for Ovi. And if he fucks up…”

“Anything,” she insists, and kisses him again. Longer this time; holding his face in her hands. “You’re not in this alone, Thyler. You need to remember that.”

“I know.”

“And Millie’s on her way over here…” she removes the sunglasses from her face and slips them over his eyes, preventing their daughter from seeing him close to tears. 

She knows daddy cries; that a lot of daddies cry. And that it doesn’t make them weak or ‘girly’. But she’s fiercely protective of him and when he shows emotion, she can’t hold back her own water works.

“You are soaked, little miss.” Esme frowns. “I hope daddy remembered to pack that change of clothes I asked him to put in the car before we left.”

“I’ve got my shit together,” Tyler confirms. “Do you have to…” he begins, then groans when Millie not only tackles him onto his back, but plops down heavily on his lower stomach. “...jump on me.”

“Now daddy’s all wet,” Esme sighs. “And I know he doesn’t have a change of clothes.”

“It’s not that,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Do you know where she just landed? And how hard she landed on it?”

“I think your voice just went up five octaves,” his wife teases. “Are you okay?”

“No. No I’m not. Remember that frozen bag of peas? I think I’m going to need another one when we get home.”

“Listen buddy, I’ve pushed five kids out my you know where, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m suddenly feeling really bad about kicking Saju in the nuts in Dhaka. Millie, you know how you said you didn’t want another brother?”

“Yep,” she responds.

“I’m pretty certain you just made sure that’s not even remotely possible anymore.”

“Mommy will have to kiss it better later,” Esme says, tousling his hair and then tending to buckling Addie into her carrier.

“You’re damn right you will. It’s your daughter that did this.”

“Oh so now she’s just my daughter. That’s not how it works. We went fifty-fifty on her. You put in ten minutes of work, I put in nine months.”

“Ten minutes my ass. It’s never been only ten minutes. Especially during those five days.”

“Are you going to be okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Tyler flips her the middle finger. “You should give it mouth to mouth.”

“You’re a pig.”

“You’re the one who offered to kiss it better. Millie…” he grabs her by the hips and moves her off of him. “...you used to be my favorite. Why you do me like this?”

“Ice cream would make you feel better,” she concludes.

“What am I going to do? Put it down my pants?”

“Stop it,” Esme scolds. “Little ears! And you, Amelia, are right. Ice cream would make daddy feel better. And so would buying ice cream. For us.”

“Millie’s walking home, just so you know,” Tyler grumbles, as he struggles to his feet; hobbled more by the pain in his knee than the damage his daughter had inflicted.

“No I’m not!” she argues, and then shrieks when he grabs her by the hips and holds her over his head, settling her on his shoulder. “I’m not walking.”

“You can jog beside the truck. I’ll drive slow.”

“I don’t think so daddy,” she wraps her legs around his neck and rests her chin on top of his head. “Mommy would never let you make me jog.”

“Mommy can jog with you.”

“Like hell she can,” Esme scoffs. “Only time I’m running or jogging is if zombies are chasing me.”

“Zombies aren’t real,” Millie informs her.

“I don’t know,” Tyler says. “Have you ever seen your mother at five thirty in the morning? Ow! Shit!” He grimaces when his wife grabs a hold of the top of his left hip and pinches as hard as she can. “That actually hurt.”

“I could take you,” she informs him.

“Yeah? Let’s go right now. Me and you. One on one,” he playfully challenges, and grabbing a hold of her ponytail, gives it a firm tug. 

“You shit!” she retorts, and retaliates by kicking him in the ass. 

“You’re so lucky you didn’t go for the front like the savage I know you are,” Tyler grins, then snags her by the wrist and pulls her tight into his side. Hand settling on her hip, lips finding her temple. And her own hand briefly rests on the small of his back, then slips its way into the pocket of his jeans.

For that moment, everything seems right in the world. And he feels optimistic. About fighting his demons. 

About the future.


	29. Chapter 29

The water is scalding. Causing her to wince; ripping the breath from her lungs as she steps underneath it. Accepting it’s brutality and punishment in an attempt to exchange physical pain for internal. She bites down on her bottom lip hard enough to break skin and draw blood; holds her breath and bouncing up and down on her heels as she suffers through the temporary agony in the hopes of gaining long term relief. 

Her heart aches. A pain far more intense than anything she’s ever experienced in her thirty-five years. An emptiness has settled deep inside of her; holes that had long ago been patched back together threatening to burst wide open. The anguish is unbearable. The start of what feels like prolonged state of mourning that comes with expected yet still devastating loss. It’s a painful and bitter pill to swallow when you’ve the end of your rope and no matter how desperately you try to hold on, you still wind up torn apart and broken in the end.

Tyler’s confession had blindsided her; knocking the wind clear out of her and sending both her emotions and her reality into a violent tailspin. She’d a setback when it came to alcohol. After all, he’d fallen off the wagon three times in the last six and half years and the last time she’d relegated herself to the fact that it would always be part of their life. Comforting herself with thoughts oh how at least he wasn’t a mean or a violent drunk. Loud and obnoxious, and often overly emotional and sensitive and sometimes even absentminded and neglectful, but never intimidating or aggressive. That she would never tolerate.

But he hadn’t had Oxy in his system since the rehab stint after Dhaka, and it had been successfully flushed from his system and he’d never gone back to it again. It’d been a tough battle, but he’d come out happier and healthier without the added weight of dependency. For almost seven years he’d never given the drug a second thought and had dedicated himself to living a cleaner life; hating the mere thought of taking anything stronger than over the counter pain medication despite being in near constant agony. 

Things had been better. Even with alcohol still in the picture. Once he was off the Oxy he became calmer. More content. Those jagged and rough edges softening. But then the Dhaka nightmares began and was closely followed by depression and PTSD; powerful and unrelenting demons that had dragged him into the very depths of hell. Convincing him that he -and everyone around him- would be better off if he had died that day on the bridge. There’d been no reasoning with him while in that state, and it had taken two legitimate suicide attempts and as many psych ward stays to convince him to get the help that he so desperately needed.

But they’d made it through. Somehow emerging from the darkest and most dreadful times -and a six month separation- stronger than ever. Surviving things that would have torn most couples apart. And even though the battle with alcohol had remained, not once had he ever mentioned needing or wanting or Oxy. Even while rehabbing from painful knee and shoulder replacement surgeries. He’d just battled through it; never complaining, barely wincing or grimacing even on the worst days. He’d accepted it as his new natural state of life; permanent punishment for the bad decisions and the horrible things he’d had to resort to just to stay alive. A life of physical suffering in exchange for having a life at all.

It had been hard. Hearing the confession as it tumbled from lips. The stark and brutal realization of just how lost and troubled he actually is; seeing the desperation and vulnerability...and even shame and disgust...in his eyes and all over his face. It’s difficult; loving someone that much and having to watch them suffer. Knowing that there’s more you can do for them and feeling completely and utterly helpless. There’s no words that can make things better or take all the pain -both physical and mental- away. 

She’d known the moment he’d said it that things were out of her reach. That HE was out of her reach. That there was nothing more she could say or do that would make even the slightest bit of difference. That if things keep spiralling out of control and the want and need became too powerful to control, he would fall back into old habits. And that will be the final straw. No more chances. No more thinking that love alone is enough to save someone. It should be -and it would be- in a perfect world. But there’s only so much she can take; only so much fight left in her. And if he gets to that point, she will have lost him. With no chance of ever getting him back.

The tears come now. Spilling down her face and joined by painful, choking sobs that cause her entire body to quake. Tears of anger and frustration; profound sadness that accompanies an impending loss. The ache in her heart and the tightness in her chest increasing, and she places both palms and her forehead against cool, smooth tile and closes her eyes. Standing directly under the steaming, pounding water until there’s no more tears to shed and the sobs settle into nothing more than soft, pitiful whimpers.

You can do this, she tells herself, even though the emptiness and the tremendous sense of loss say otherwise. You’ve gotten through worse. You got through Dhaka. You got through what happened on the bridge. You can get through this too.

She thinks of those minutes and hours immediately afterwards; sitting in a packed OR waiting room still clad in the same clothes and Doc Marten boots she’d been wearing on the bridge. Covered in dirt and grime and blood. So much blood. Some of it still bright and damp and smelling fresh, other areas thick and dark and stiffening the fabric of her t-shirt. It had caked and stained her hands and gathered under her nails; travelled all the way to her elbows and was streaked across her face and forehead and had even settled in her hair. She’d been alone. No Nik. No Yaz. No team members whose names she didn’t remember. And the shock of just what had happened -the things she’d seen and the things she’d done- had left her feeling numb. As if her body and mind were acting on their own accord and she had absolutely no control over them.

She can remember the looks on other peoples’ faces. Their outright horror and disgust at being confronted by so much blood, their obvious concern for her fragile mental state, and genuine curiosity. Complete strangers had offered her drinks of water and juice and small snacks, yet couldn’t refrain from asking well meaning yet horribly invasive questions that she had no reasonable answers for. A nurse had brought her a pair of scrubs and socks to change into and had escorted her to a staff shower so she could clean herself up. And she remembers standing under the water watching as all the blood washed away; swirling around at her feet before disappearing down the drain.

She hadn’t been in the waiting area for ten minutes before the surgeon had come out with his first update; grim faced and stern, not an ounce of confidence in his eyes. Giving her the clear plastic bag packed with Tyler’s belongings; whatever could be salvaged, that was. Combat boots, cell phone, the watch and the bracelets he’d been wearing, the utility vest. She’d spent half an hour in a public washroom trying to scrub the latter clean; sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to ignore the rips and the tears and the bullet holes, using hand soap to attempt to get all of the blood and dirt out. Her stunned and foolish brain convincing her that it HAD to be done. After all, he might need it again.

Tightly screwing her eyes shut, she drops her chin to her chest; breathing slow and steady as she lets the steaming water pound against her body. And while soothing, it does nothing to wash away the vivid and haunting memories that will forever plague her mind.

****

She finds him on the couch; in nothing but a pair of tattered old sweats with his legs stretched out and his bare feet propped on the coffee table. Eyes closed and breathing soft and steady; Addie lying high on his chest with her face against his neck, his cheek pressed against the side of her head and a protective hand on her back. It’s quite the sight; that big, strong man made up muscles and tattoos and scars with a tiny baby clad in a bubble gum pink sleeper. And she’s quiet and stealthy as she picks up his cell from where it sits on the coffee table, quickly snapping a picture before returning the phone to its resting place.

“What’cha doing?” It’s a groggy mumble, stirred awake when he feels her plucking the empty baby bottle from where he’d set in between his thighs.

“You fell asleep,” she explains, then places the bottle on the table. “Want me to take her? I can put her in her crib and you…”

“Leave her. She’s fine for now.”

With his free hand he reaches out and takes hold of her wrist, gently tugging her towards him and down onto the couch. Arm wrapping around her when she settles in tightly against him; legs tucked under her, head against his shoulder, a hand on his stomach. 

The familiarity of him is comforting; smooth skin against her cheek, the smell that clings to him, the warmth of the strong, solid body and the feel of those tight, well defined abdominal muscles under her fingertips as she slowly and methodically traces each one. Yet she can feel the tension in her shoulders and that aching -that dread- that lingers in the pit of her stomach. And she wonders if he’s falling again; if those demons and those monsters have finally agreed to let him rest. Until she feels the brush of his thumb along her shoulder and then his body moving against hers as he carefully moves Addie from her resting place; laying her along his forearm with her head in the crook of his elbow, then tucking her tightly into him. 

“Everything okay?” Tyler asks, and she nods. “You haven’t said much since we got home.” 

That was eight hours ago, and since then they’ve maybe had five minutes of meaningful conversation. Despite putting on a good front with the smiles and the laughs, they’d been fabricated for the most part. She’d been quiet and distant. With him, with the kids, even with Salena who’d cover over to ‘hangout’ with Ovi and Kyle while they held down things on the homefront. 

He’d thought things were okay; that his confession and the open and honest -and completely rational- talk afterwards had been a good start. That while it was going to be a long, hard road, at least they were beginning it on the right foot. And he hates how weak it makes him feel; how the last seven years of fighting PTSD and depression and everything that comes with him have left him a neurotic, self conscious mess.

“There hasn’t been much to say,” she says, as her fingers continue their exploration of his abs and the small scars and imperfections that mar his stomach. “It’s been one thing after another since we got home.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s been a little...I don’t know…”

“Off the reservations?”

He chuckles. “That works.”

“And it annoyed me that there were so many goddamn people here. Ovi and Chloe and Kyle and Salena. Like what the hell? We’re not a drop in centre or a shelter for wayward youth.”

“Well someone did have to watch the kids.”

“They should have left when we got back. They didn’t have to stick around. It’s like having four other kids. We have to entertain them and feed them and worry about keeping them happy. I’m their maid or their mother. Like, fuck off already.”

Tyler grins. “You’re feisty tonight.”

“It just pissed me off. I love having my brother visit and I like Salena and it’s nice to have a friend. But God. Go away. I like when it’s just us and the kids and I don’t have to worry about other people.”

“Fuck ‘em. I don’t worry about anyone else. Just my people. That’s all that I care about.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad my brother is next door eating the neighbour’s ass like a cupcake?”

“When you say it that way? Yes. It is. It is wrong. In so many ways.”

“I mean, I know he just met her and despite what he says, I know it’s one of the main reasons he broke things off with Nik. But at least he’s out of my hair. I’ve got enough to deal with. I don’t need his bullshit on top of it.”

“You know what I think? I think we’re the last two people who should be talking about things happening too fast between him and Sabrina.”

“Salena,” she corrects. “I don’t know if you actually don’t remember her name, or if you just call her Sabrina just to be a dick.”

“It’s just to be a dick,” Tyler admits.

“You honestly don’t like her? It’s not just you being paranoid for no reason?”

“It’s not that I don’t like her. I just don’t trust her. And not in a paranoid or overprotective way. I’m working on being okay with the ‘you having friends’ thing. I’m good with that. There’s just something about her. Something that doesn’t sit right. And you've always said I have good instincts.”

“Very good instincts. Amazing instincts, actually.”

“Well they’re telling me that there’s something not right with her. That she’s not who she says she is. Who you think she is. Even Millie said she doesn’t trust her.”

“Well in all fairness, Millie is five and hates anyone who doesn’t put pineapple on pizza or who eats steak cooked past medium rare.”

“I just want you to be careful. I’m not saying don’t talk to her or don’t hang out with her. ‘Cause I get that you need friends. Just be careful around her. Don’t get too close, don’t say too much. That’s all I ask.”

“Okay,” she says, a smile on her face as she pats his stomach and kisses his shoulder. “See how agreeable I can be when you don’t freak out and we actually talk about things?”

“You are less of a bitch.”

“You know, you start out so well and you always manage to end so badly.”

“Kind of like everything in my life.”

She frowns. “That is not what I meant and you know it. I meant it as a joke. I was teasing you.” She tousles his hair, then runs her fingers through it. Loving the messy ‘bed head’ look it so easily takes on. “Are you alright? You’re not…?”

“Thinking about getting drunk and high? No. I’m not. I honestly haven’t thought about that since this morning. I don’t think about it all the time. It’s not every day, twenty four hours a day. Just when shit happens.”

“Like Ovi wanting help,” she concludes. “And your dad. And the nightmares.”

Tyler nods.

“I mean I get it. I do. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling or what’s going on in your head, but I know you struggle. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and a lot of things inside of you that are weighing you down. And I know the kind of life you’ve lived. The things you’ve seen and the things you’ve had to do. That would mess anyone up.”

It’s been a lifetime of turmoil. An abusive childhood, the death of his mother at a young age, a tumultuous marriage right out of high school, and the death of his first child. And he’d spent years devoting himself to the military and then to the job. Never taking time to truly rest and worry about himself.

“I don’t want you to think less of me,” he says. “I don't want you being disgusted or disappointed or…”

“Okay, first off,” Esme interjects. “I won't let you talk about yourself like that. Because none of that is true. I’m not disappointed or disgusted. Not in the slightest. And I could never think less of you. Because I know what kind of man you are and I know you’re strong and resilient and you’re loyal and protective and all those amazing things that make you, you. I mean, yeah, I won’t lie; there’s some things about you that drive me batshit insane.”

Tyler smirks.

“But it’s stupid shit like your snoring and how cold your feet are and you have the nerve to put them against me in bed. Or how you refuse to separate laundry before putting it in the machine and we’ve had to throw out so many clothes. Or how our last Christmas in Colorado you actually used a staple gun to put the lights on the house.”

“Don’t hold back baby,” he grins. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“But it’s dumb stuff like that. It’s the little things that drive me nuts but don’t make me love you any less. And I bet you have a whole list of things that drive you crazy when it comes to me.”

“It’s not actually a list, but…”

“But they’re still things that drive you nuts, right? Do they make you love me any less? Even the more serious things. Are they horrible enough to make you think less of me?”

“Of course not.”

“Well then why would I think that way about you? You’re not a terrible person because you’ve got issues. It’s not like you were a mean or an abusive drunk. That would have been a lot worse.”

“You would have totally kicked my ass if I ever got like that.”

“I would have given you the ass kicking of a lifetime. And then I would have taken your kids and left and I would have made sure you never found out. And that would have hurt you a lot more than anything physical I could have done.”

It’s the harsh and honest truth. As much as she wants him around, she would be more than capable of surviving without him. Of taking the kids and giving them a good life; somewhere safe and happy, away from the turmoil and heartache that booze and drugs would cause. And he wouldn’t blame her if she did leave. If that six month separation had taught him anything, it’s that she’s a hell of a lot stronger than anyone...even him...gives her credit for.

“If you go back to that...the booze...the meds...especially the meds..I can’t stay with you, Tyler. I can’t. Not because I don’t love you. Because I do. With everything I am and everything I have. But I love my children more and I won’t let them grow up like that. I refuse to let them go through that. I can live with going back to the job, but if you go back to the way you were when we met...if Oxy comes into this house or I find you’re sneaking off and doing it somewhere else...we’re done. I’ll walk out of here and I will take those kids and I won’t look back. And I know you don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that.” 

Emotion chokes at him; tears filling his eyes as he looks down at the baby sleeping soundly against him. So tiny and so perfect. Everything that’s beautiful and good about the two of them existing in those six pounds and fifteen inches. Five times he’d experienced this; the joy and the profound love that comes with being a dad. And six months away from his kid had felt like a lifetime and had nearly destroyed him.

“You could survive without me,” she says. “But I know you wouldn’t survive long without them.”

“I don’t want to live without any of you,” he tells her. “We’re in this together. The second we found out about Millie and when we decided to get married. I don’t want to lose them and I don’t want to lose you either.”

“But you will. If you go back to the way you were. The booze, the Oxy, the death wish. If you go back to that, we are not going to make it. Because I need to think about those kids first. I won’t let them grow up like that and you shouldn’t want them to either.”

“I don’t. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that person again.”

“I can handle the job. If you decide you want to go back, I can accept it and we can live like that. That won’t kill us. But the rest will. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to have to walk away. Because I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone, especially after Mark. I’d rather live with you than without you.”

“Even with the snoring and the cold feet?” he teases.

“I just tell you to put on socks or to roll over and be quiet. Sometimes I plug your nose until you can't breathe and you wake up.”

“So you are homicidal.”

“I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to wake you up and to stop your snoring. Now if I covered your nose and your mouth, you might have a valid concern.”

Tyler smirks.

She tightens the hold on his hair, then presses his lips to his temple, followed by his ear, then down to his cheek. Lips warms and feathery as they travel along his jaw as she speaks. “You are the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. And I need you to fight this. Harder than you’ve ever fought anything else. Even after Dhaka. Because you have little humans that love you and adore you and would miss you so much. If you can’t do it for myself or for me, do it for them. I mean look at her…” she reaches across to him to run a palm over Addie’s head; the dark hair soft against her skin. “...look how beautiful she is. How perfect she is. You did this. You helped make this. Something so amazing. Why would you not want to fight?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t know I have anything left to fight it.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You don’t give up. You’re not a quitter. Maybe before we met and you felt like you had nothing to lose and thought you deserved to die. But now you have everything to live for. So if you think I’m just going to sit back and let you...of all people...just give up, you have another thing coming. So stop,” she kisses his cheek. “Stop your shit and get it together and fight this thing. Promise me, Tyler. That you’re not going to give in to this.”

“I’m not going to give in,” he assures her. “I don’t want to lose you or my kids. That would kill me quicker than anything else ever could.”

“See , now THIS is when being ferociously stubborn is a good thing,” her face and voice seem brighter. “And isn’t she something else?” She traces the outer edge of Addie’s ear with her fingertip. “She’s just so tiny and so perfect and so amazing.”

“And beautiful,” he adds. “Just like her mom. We did good, yeah?”

“We did. Five times. It’s surreal, isn’t it? If you think about where you were seven years ago compared to now.”

“I don’t even want to think about where I was seven years go. I mean, other than when you walked into my place looking all cute and shit in your little shorts and your tank top.”

“I still can’t believe you remember what I was wearing. It’s not like it was anything spectacular. Not like Nik and her blouse cut down to her belly button nearly.”

“I never paid attention to what she was wearing. I was too busy looking at your ass in those shorts.”

She laughs. “You were honestly checking out my ass?”

“And other things,” he admits. “I’m a guy. I’m gonna look. Especially when fresh meat walks through the door.”

“Fresh meat? Really? That’s what you thought of me?”

“I don’t mean it in that way. I didn’t know who you were; I’d never seen you before. And you just show up out of the blue and walk in looking like that? Yeah, I checked you out.”

“You were very sly about it because I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you. I was nice to you.”

“That was nice? That was you being nice?”

“Okay, so maybe you annoyed me a little.”

“I annoyed you now?” she laughs. “How did I annoy you? I barely spoke to you or looked at you.”

“I didn’t like that Nik just showed up like that and brought someone with her. And it threw me off that you looked like you did and your ass looked like it did. And I hadn’t had sex in like four months, so…”

“That’s what it was! I annoyed you because you were sexually frustrated.”

“Pretty much,” Tyler nods. “And you were wearing those shorts and that strap of your tank top kept falling down. I kept wanting to push it back up but Nik was there and that would have been really awkward if I’d kicked her out and made her wait while I banged you.”

“Awfully bold of you to assume I would have succumbed to your advances.”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “You so would have.”

“Actually, yeah. I would have,” she agrees, and then bursts out laughing and drops her forehead onto his shoulder. “You’re a bad influence! You and your blue eyes and your stupidly handsome face. For what it’s worth, you sort of annoyed me too.”

“How? I behaved myself.”

“You did. But I was annoyed at how ridiculously good looking you were. I’ve seen a lot of mercenaries, but I’d never seen one that looked like that.”

“So you were checking me out too.”

“Of course I was. I’m not blind. I know a good thing when I see it.” She jumps off the couch and heads for the kitchen, returning with a carton of ice cream and two spoons. “I mean, you were all tall and big arms and broad shoulders and the pure definition of walking sex. And the voice…” she drops down beside him once more, handing him a spoon and pulling off the lid on the ice cream. “...that would have sealed the deal. If you had said drop your pants, I would have done it, no questions asked.”

“Talk about a wasted opportunity.”

“Well we made up for it over the course of five days,” she reasons. “I couldn’t give it up in the first ten minutes. I already looked like a big enough slut after knowing you for three days.”

“For the record, I never thought you were a slut.”

“That’s reassuring. I thought you were one, so…”

He frowns. “That’s not nice.”

“A guy doesn’t look like you and not get laid a lot. I’m just saying. And the things you knew how to do and how well you did them? Yeah. I knew you were a player.”

“Yeah? Well for someone who claims to have only been with three guys including me, you knew a little too much and were a little too willing to let me do certain things.”

“You’re going to complain about it seven years later? Really?”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just saying how it seemed.”

“Well you spend four years never having an orgasm other than the ones you give yourself, then let’s see how you feel when someone comes along and gives you multiple. I have to say, you were on the ball that night.”

“I wanted you to keep coming back for more so I had to make a good first impression.”

“Oh believe me. You did. Because here I am, seven years later, looking like a hot mess after having five kids, and still putting out.”

“You’re beautiful. Always have been. Always will be.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Even after that many kids?”

He gives her a wink and leans in to kiss her. “Especially after that many kids.”

****

He groans as he stands; a grimace on his face and limp more pronounced as he carries Addie to her playpen; gently placing her inside and then tightly tucking a blanket around her. 

“You okay?” Esme asks, as he returns to the couch, sitting down beside her once more. “You haven’t limped that bad in a long time.”

“I’m just stiff as hell,” he assures, then frowns as he reaches for one of the spoons. “Are you trying to make me fat?”

“You’re in a bulk. Ice cream will help you do that. Although I should be getting you fat. So then I don’t have to worry about all those thirsty teachers and playground moms.”

“You already don’t have to worry about them. Besides, you should be more concerned about the neighbor.”

Esme grins. “She thinks you’re a snack.”

“A snack? Fuck her. I’m the whole goddamn buffet.”

“Plus extra dessert. And those warm lemon smelling face cloths some places give you.”

Tyler grins. “I think that’s honestly the best and the weirdest compliment anyone has ever given me. Just so you know, you’re the whole dessert section of the buffet. Plus extra chocolate sauce and sprinkles.”

“You keep sweet talking me like that and I may just jump you right here.”

“Yeah? You promise?”

“We’ll see…” she singsongs, and they lapse into a companionable silence as they dig into the ice cream. Listening to Addie’s soft breathing and the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife that lingers on their property.

“So…” he breaks the silence. “...I was thinking.”

“Uh oh. I don’t know if I like the way you said that.”

“About what you said today. About the job. How you’d be okay with me going back.”

Both eyebrows arch as she regards him.

“I just want you to hear me out, okay? Just listen to what I have to say before saying anything back or freaking out on me. Can you do that?”

Esme nods.

“I have an idea. Actually, it was Ovi’s idea first but I tweaked it and made it make more sense. More beneficial. For me. For us. As a family.”

“Alright,” she swallows some ice cream and helps herself to another spoonful.

“What if I started my own operation? If I got my own group of guys together and made up a team and got the word out that we’re available and looking for work? What if I was the boss. The Nik of things, so to speak.”

“Where would you find the guys?”

“It’s been almost seven years since Dhaka but my name still has a lot of pull. I let people know I’m looking for mercs, there won’t be a shortage of interested people. And I have a few that have been itching get back into it and would jump at the chance. Remember Nathan?”

“The marine from New Zealand?”

“He’s been wanting to break away from Nik for a while. Says she’s losing her touch and things are going to shit. He’s put his name out there but has gotten a lot of interest.”

“What are his numbers like?”

“Decent. Got a good kill record. Not that that means everything when it comes to the job. But he hasn’t gotten seriously hurt, hasn’t gotten a client or a teammate killed, or royally fucked up.”

“So he’d be one to take a chance on.”

Tyler nods.

“Who else?”

“Just guys I’ve worked with before. That I know work hard and I can trust. Nik won’t be happy though.”

“Because you’re getting into it and getting a piece of that pie?”

“That and I’d be pinching some of her guys. And she knows if people know it’s my operation, we’ll start pulling all the big jobs. Word travels fast in the game and if surviving Dhaka did anything…”

“It boosted your reputation,” she concludes. “Big time. People will be shocked. If you decide to get back in it. Especially if you get back in as a boss. Is that really something you want to do? Or would you rather be right in it getting your own hands dirty?”

“I’d rather come home to my family. And there’s a way better chance of that if I just run things. I mean, I’d have to go where the jobs are, but I wouldn’t have to go out right out in the field. I’d just stay behind and run shit.”

“Hmm…” Esme taps the bowl of her spoon against her lips as she considers his word. 

“What are you thinking?” Tyler asks. “And be honest. Don’t just say that you think I want to hear.”

“Well, first, I think it’s a huge step for you.”

“In a good way, or…”

“Of course in a good way. In a very good way. You have the experience. You know how you want things done and you know how you want guys to be. And you know they’ll work for you and that they’ll work well.”

“But…”

“Actually, there is no but. Not that I can think of. And I already told you that I was okay with you going back. Even when it was just the thought of you back out in the field. Could you run things from home? Until there’s a job and you have to go wherever?”

“Baby, in this day and age and with the technology out there? I could run things while taking a shit.”

“And it’s something you’d be happy with?”

“I think so. I think it would stop me from missing the job. I’d still be in life, but not actually in it. I would be a hell of a lot safer, that’s for sure.”

“I know I’d feel better about it,” she admits.

“It would take a bit. To get everything off the ground. I might need your help.”

Her eyes widen.

“Just with intel stuff and getting the word out. Nothing serious.”

“I am not getting involved like I did in Ireland.”

“I wouldn't want you to. Strictly behind the scenes. I promise.”

She sighs. “I suppose I could help with that. What’s in it for me? What kind of payout do I get?”

He grins. “My undying love and loyalty?”

“I already have that. Next.”

“Lots of dick?” he tries again.

“I already get that.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know then. What do you want?”

“I want to go away. Just the two of us. For a couple days. Three at the most.”

“Okay,” Tyler agrees. “Where?”

“I want to go to Kimberley.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Why the hell would you want to go there?”

“I want you to call Koen and tell him we want to stay at the shack. That we’ll pay for him to stay somewhere else for two or three days. I want to go hiking and I want to camp for a night at that gorge you told me about. Where you jumped off the cliff and scared the shit out of Rata.”

“That’s all you want?”

Esme nods.

“Really? You don’t want flowers or expensive jewellery or…”

“I don’t want those things. I want to go away. With you. Just the two of us. And that’s where I want to go. Can you make it happen?”

He gives a confident smile. “Consider it done.”


	30. Chapter 30

Quarter after eight in the morning and he finds himself standing at the end of the driveway; barefoot and in a pair of dirty jeans and a ratty t-shirt. Eyes still glazed over from sleep and hair tousled and messy; sipping from an oversized mug of steaming black coffee laced with three shots of espresso, watching the three oldest as they play across the road. Supervising -albeit sleepily- as they attempt to build a fort on the edge of the woods using broken branches, fallen tree limbs, and old stumps. Listening to them squabble over what food they could put inside to lure in koalas and kangaroos and then keep them as pets. Tanner is the only logical one of the bunch, vehemently arguing that koalas and kangaroos are wild animals and should never...ever...be anything but. And even if it was okay to have them as pets, it’s obvious that the only reasonable and believable food they’d be attracted to would be vegemite sandwiches. This IS Australia afterall.

It had been a better night. The pain hadn’t been as intense; under control with over the counter meds and a heating pad over his knee and an ice pack under his shoulder. His confession earlier in the day had lifted a tremendous weight off his conscience; knowing that she would support him as long as he dedicated himself to the fight had boosted his waning confidence. It had been his main concern: how she’d react knowing that he was not only slipping, but slipping hard and fast. Concerned that she’d be disgusted with him. Ashamed. That she’d somehow think less of him because the battle has become too powerful to fight any longer. She’s always looked at him as if he’s the most amazing man on the face of the earth; always feeling safe and secure and protected. And he hated the thought of not longer being the things she wanted or needed. That she deserved. 

But all her assurances and even ultimatums had done wonders -at least temporarily- for his broken and tortured mind. Falling asleep much quicker than usual and staying that way until the twins were shaking him awake and telling him that it was ten minutes before the bus arrived and mommy needed help. It’s the first time in years that he’d slept past her; usually up at the crack of dawn AND several times through the night. But she’d let him sleep through; handling both of Addie’s middle of the night feeds and the kids’ morning routines on her own.

There’d been no nightmares. No dreams of any kid. Waking only once when he’d heard Addie begin to fuss, then feeling his wife’s hand on his chest and her lips against his forehead; the soft, sleepy voice telling that it was okay, to just rest. After that, nothing until Tanner and TJ had come bursting into the room and jumped on the bed; way too loud and way too boisterous but excited to start a new week at school. The battle with the principal had been short but successful; TJ had avoided a suspension and would receive an apology for being signalled out and the other boys would be properly reprimanded for their bullying. It didn’t make the actual issue go away; the kid still has problems that they need to get to the bottom of, things that definitely need to be treated in one way or the other. But it was a start; in the same way admitting to his own issues was. It was part of the journey; confessing to and accepting your shortcomings in order to work on fixing them.

The shoulder is sore, but not the worst it’s been; not as many crunches and pops when he was pulling on his t-shirt. And the limp is there -it would be for the rest of his life- but nowhere near as pronounced as it was the night before. As if getting those deepest and darkest secrets out in the open had not only calmed his mind, but his body as well. The pain will return; both physically and mentally. But he knows now just what need he needs to do. The people he needs to reach out to, the steps he needs to take.

The sound of a car door slamming captures his attention; briefly glancing to his left, just in time to see Salena waving to whoever is behind the wheel of a black jeep parked at the end of her driveway, a stack of file folders in one of her hands, a take out cup of coffee in the other. The vehicle lingers; engine idling. And from even two hundred yards away, Tyler can easily identify the make and model: older model Jeep Grand Cherokee, with back tinted windows and a sunroof and noticeable damage to the front grill and a cracked passenger side headlight. His sunglasses make it easy to hide the way he keeps an eye on things; his head turned towards the kids, nursing his coffee while he observes the unknown -and potentially threatening- vehicle. He’s eerily calm; the breath he exhales long and steady. No anxiety, no shaky nerves. No cold sweat or nausea. He’s been in this kind of situation before. Numerous times; too many to count. And he knows...beyond the shadow of a doubt...that he can handle any and every threat that could come his way. You don’t spend years in the game only to have your confidence and skills disappear the moment you leave it. They’re ingrained in you; fingers still itch for a trigger, brain still quickly and efficiently assesses situations and comes up with appropriate courses of action.

The driver remains behind the wheel; staring straight ahead, sunglasses covering his eyes and no expression registering on his face. Caucasian, mid to late forties, blond hair in brush cut. He’s broad shoulder and barrel chested, emphasized by a well fitting suit jacket; white dress shirt, no tie. And it isn’t until he notices the driver put a hand to his right ear and his lips begin to move that Tyler’s instincts kick it up a notch. It’s an earpiece. No doubt about it. An older model with all of its glitches and poor sound quality; not the high tech, wireless ones that Yaz had managed to score for the job in New Zealand. And the stranger is watching him. Intently. Even with those mirrored aviator shades it’s obvious as hell. This isn’t the first time that Tyler’s been watched; he’s stepped on a lot of toes, pissed a lot of people off, made a lot of enemies with all the wrong people in all the wrong places. 

“Guys!” He keeps his voice and face calm as he calls to the kids. There’s no sense in alarming them; his goal now is to keep up the appearance of a relaxed, happy family getting ready to start the day. 

They’re less than thirty yards away; he could send them into the woods if he has to. All three shockingly clever and resourceful; they’d know exactly where to hide and to stay as quiet and still as possible; not emerging from their safe places until he came to get them. But he’d rather it not get to that; preferring to keep them as close as possible. 

“Get over here,” he gently orders. “Bus will be here soon.”

They grumble in disappointment and reluctantly stomp over, and he focuses on both them and the vehicle down the road; tending to brushing dirt and grass off their clothes and picking leaves out of their hair while keeping an eye on whatever is happening in front of the neighbor’s house. It’s the first time since Ireland and Michael McMann that he’s felt this on edge when it comes to the safety of his kids. He’s always alert; always ready and willing to protect them at the drop of a dime. But this kind of intensity is something he hasn’t felt in months; instincts telling that things aren’t what they seem. Salena isn’t the friendly -it not TOO friendly- and bizarre new neighbour. She’s more. So much more. And that isn’t just some random visitor showing up at the house.

“Stand over here,” Tyler jerks his head in the direction of the truck, then places one hand on Tanner’s shoulder and the other on the back of TJ’s head, firmly guiding them in the direction he wants. “Amelia…” he uses her full name, letting her know that he means business and she’s not to argue or ignore him.

“How will we know when the bus comes?” she inquires, as she joins her father and brothers on the other side of the truck, out of the Jeep driver’s line of sight.

“It’s big and yellow,” TJ huffs. “How would you miss it?”

“And it’s noisy,” Tanner added. “You’re gonna hear it.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. You guys stay there,” Tyler instructs, and then walks to the end of the driveway; back to the road in order to be facing them at all times. Head once again facing forward yet his eyes constantly moving.

The engine on the Jeep is off now, but the driver remains behind the wheel; his attention intently focused on a cell phone clutches in his hand. Until he notices Tyler is back in plain sight.

“Millie…come here for a second…” he motions for her towards him, then scoops her up and settles her on his hip. “...we’re going to take a selfie. Send it to Bonnie so she can show grandpa, okay?”

“Okay!” She cheerfully agrees, and he pulls his phone from the back pocket of his jeans; turning and angling their bodies just right so that the Jeep’s licence plate is visible in the background. It will be blurry, but Yaz had shown him apps and enough tricks on the computer that he’s confident he'll be able to zoom in and clean the image up enough to be able to make out the letters and numbers. Then he’d cash in some favours he’s owed; guys that will get him the name and address of the Jeep owner before the end of the day. If not sooner.

There’s enormous relief when the school bus arrives; knowing that the kids will be away from the house IF something does transpire. And he kisses them and tells them he loves them; the hugs are tighter and last longer than usual. But they’re none the wiser; bickering with one another as they climb the steps and then rush down the narrow aisle to their seats. Those little faces pressing against the windows; beaming smiles as they wave to him as the bus pulls away, doing a U turn at the edge of their property and then continuing down the road. He notices the way the driver of the Jeep watches the larger vehicle as it passes. The guy’s a rookie; his entire body and head turns as he observes. And there’s a brief moment of panic when the engine springs to life just as the bus reaches the end of the road; Tyler’s instincts immediately consider the worst case scenario: that it’s actually the kids the driver had been watching, not him. That they’re the ones he wants. And his heart pounds furiously in his chest; he can hear the rush of blood in his ears and the sweat that beads at his temples and across his forehead as he second guesses his decision to send them away. It would have been better to keep them there with him; he can keep them safe and protect them and defend them in ways no one else possibly can. His jaw is painfully tight and his stomach queasy when the Jeep reverses, only to be filled with instant relief when the vehicle swings onto Salena’s property and disappears behind the rows of trees that line the driveway.

***

“What’s going on?” 

The sudden voice behind him causes him to startle. Ovi. Sidling up beside him with one of his hands shoved in a pocket on his shorts; eating an apple that he holds in the other.

“You always sneak up on people like that? You want to get knocked the fuck out? Because THAT’S how you get knocked the fuck out.”

Ovi frowns. “I called your name. Three times. You didn’t hear me?”

“Guess not. Must have been when I was getting the kids on the bus.”

“The bus had already left. You were just standing there. Just staring off into the woods. What were you looking at?”

“Thought I saw something.”

“Probably a dingo,” Ovi reasons. “Did you hear them last night? They were going crazy back in there. All kinds of howling and barking and shit.”

Tyler shrugs. “Must have slept through it.” 

Aside from humans hell bent on revenge, the dingos are by far the biggest and most serious threat living there, and he keeps a hunting rifle -safely stored- for when they need to be dealt with. There’s other weapons too; a medium sized stash locked away in a gun locker in the garage. And a Glock he keeps in a safety box in the top drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed. Old habits die hard; the edge will always be there, as will the desire to protect what -and who- is his at all costs.

“What are you doing?” he asks Ovi. “We don’t have any jobs today.”

“You told me to come over after the kids went to school. You sent me a text last night. First you don’t hear me calling you and now you don’t remember?” he laughs. “You going senile AND deaf?”

“Still half asleep I guess,” Tyler reasons. “You wanna come in? Grab a coffee? Have some breakfast?”

“Isn’t Esme in there?”

“Yeah. So? What’s she going to do to you? She doesn’t bite. Well, anyone other than me, that is.”

“She’s still mad. We haven’t talked since that night. When she said what she said. I’ve tried to talk to her, but…” he shrugs, sadness and regret shimmering in his eyes. “I don’t want her to be mad.”

“You have to admit, she made a lot of valid points. I do have a lot to lose. If I don’t come back, I’ve left five little ones without a father. A wife without a husband. It’s not just me anymore.”

“I know.”

“You still thinking about doing this? The job? You been reconsidering it at all?”

Ovi shakes his head.

“Good. Because I’ve got a business proposition for you this time. And I think you’re going to want to hear it.”

He cocks an eyebrow; head tilted to the side. “What kind of business proposition?”

“What if I told you that there’s a way to get both of us into the job. Without having to involve Nik. Just you and me and a few guys I can pull in. Until I can get things off the ground and build on it.”

Ovi nods slowly, taking in his words. “I’m listening.”

“Let’s go inside,” Tyler says, and then turns and heads up the driveway. “I think you might want to be sitting down for this.”

****

“You have to do this now?” Esme’s voice is a harsh whisper as they stand in the kitchen; Ovi on the back patio entertaining Declan. “Why didn’t you tell me last night that he was coming over? I’m still in my pajamas.”

“So? He doesn’t care. He’s seen you in pajamas before. He’s lived with us for almost six years now.”

“I haven’t showered, I have baby puke in my hair, and I smell like vomit. Not exactly how I want to greet the company.”

“Technically he’s like one of our kids so he’s not exactly company.”

“You could have at least given me a heads up,” she huffs, as she begins gathering up the kids’ breakfast dishes from the table. “I look like shit.”

“You look beautiful.”

“As much as I appreciate your efforts at constantly boosting my confidence and as much I love you for it, I’m a mess. And not a hot one, either.”

He begs to differ; her nightshirt stops just above the knee and her legs are smooth and well toned and tanned and the various tattoos that decorate them and the top of one foot are on full display. And he can’t help but think about how they’d felt last night when they’d been wrapped around his waist while he’d fucked her, or when they’d been draped over his shoulders while he went down on her. 

Not the time, he tells himself, and silently urges his hormones to get their shit under control. Definitely not the time for this. 

“You couldn’t have given me ten minutes to shower to and put clean clothes on?” 

“It’s Ovi. Who gives a shit?”

“I do. I give a shit. And not just because I look like hell, but because Ovi and I are in the middle of a thing…”

“Fuck the thing. Get over the thing. Kiss and make up.”

Esme sighs, busying herself with returning milk and juice to the fridge.

“Besides, things are going to change. I’m going to get him away from Nik and get him working for me. And then I can control exactly what he learns and what kind of jobs I send him on. So, in a way, that completely voids the whole thing you and him have going on.”

“Okay...no...it doesn’t,” she says, and shuts the fridge door with her hip before turning to face him, arms crossed over her chest. “He was still going to drag you back into all the bullshit and all the mess. Even after I pointed out all the things you’ve been through and all the things you are still going through. None of that mattered to him. Not even the fact that if you died, you’d leave kids behind. He didn’t care. And you know what? It pissed me off and it fucking hurt.”

“Okay...I get that…” he lays his hands on her shoulders. “I do. That’s all completely valid.”

“What is up with you? Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists. “You don’t even sound like yourself.”

He frowns. “What do I sound like?”

“I don’t know. But you don’t sound like you. You seem...I don’t know...hyper.”

“Well in all fairness, I did put three shots of espresso in my coffee this morning.”

She snorts. “That’ll do it.”

“I get you’re pissed. And hurt. I totally understand why. But take it from the source, yeah? He’s a kid.”

“He’s twenty. That makes him a grown ass man.

“He’s a kid,” Tyler insists. “You know that. You know what he’s like mentally. He is still a kid. And kids say stupid shit and they do stupid shit. Especially teenagers. Think this is bad? Wait until ours are that age. Especially Millie.”

“I’d rather NOT think about that. Why are you being so pushy about this? I’ll forgive him when I’m goddamn good and ready. And I’m NOT ready. So please stop. Stop pressuring me into kissing his ass, okay?”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I just think it’s gone on long enough and you’re the adult and you should be the one to extend the olive branch or whatever. And he’s right out there, so….”

“Tyler…” she places her hands on his hips. “...I am going upstairs and I’m going to take a shower and get dressed and then Declan and I will walk over to Salena’s and…”

“No!” It comes out more forceful than he’d intended it to and he sees the way her brows shoot up. “I don’t mean ‘no’ as in you can’t go over there,” he attempts to explain. He can’t tell her about what he saw; the mysterious Jeep and the stranger behind the wheel with the earpiece that had been intently watching him and the kids. She’ll only accuse him of being paranoid and overprotective and will only be more irritated than she already is. “She’s got visitors. Sabrina. Salena. Whatever the fuck her name is.”

“Yeah, Kyle’s over there. But he’s hardly a visitor considering what they’ve been up to.”

“Not just Kyle. I saw someone. While I was putting the kids on the bus. First she was sitting in the car with him and then she got out and whoever it was just sat there for a bit with the engine running and…”

Her eyes narrow. “You were spying? On our neighbour?”

“I wasn’t spying. I was observing. I just happened to look over and…”

“And you saw her get out of some guy’s car.”

“It was a Jeep, actually. A Grand Cherokee. Black. Sun roof. Tinted back windows and damage on the grill and a fucked up passenger headlight.”

Esme gives an incredulous laugh. “You noticed all of this while you were waiting for the kids for the school bus.”

“Bus was late,” Tyler shrugs. “Gave me time to notice things.”

“And where were our kids while you were doing all this noticing?” she inquires.

“With me. In the driveway. I wasn’t letting them wander all over the place. I WAS watching them. But she does have a visitor. Your friend. After the bus left, he pulled into the driveway.”

“Okay...this is just…” she sighs and shakes her head. “...you were waiting for the school bus with our kids. Not doing surveillance.”

“Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I guess so. Fine,” she surrenders. “I won’t go over there. I hardly feel like showing up while she’s having a threesome with my brother and some random. But I am not getting involved with you and Ovi and your talk. I’m staying out of it. I said I was fine with whatever you wanted to do and that’s all the involvement you’re going to get from me. This is all up to you now, Tyler. This was your idea and you can deal with it. I’ll support you a hundred percent and I’ll help you WHEN you need it. But right now? I’m not dealing with him. I just can’t. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Now, I’m going to shower and put fresh clothes on and I’m going to leave you alone to do whatever it is you’re going to do. The baby’s in her playpen and if you’d just listen for her…”

“I will,” he says, and then lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her. Long and soft and sweet, until she’s standing on her tiptoes; arms circling his neck and her body leaning into his. And when it’s over, he pulls back and grimaces. “You DO smell like puke.”

She sighs heavily and rolls her eyes, then puts her hands on his chest and pushes him away.

“Still beautiful though,” he calls to her, as she heads for the door. “Baby puke and all.”

She laughs, then flips him the middle finger and leaves the room.

***

The remnants of breakfast clutter the patio table; pancakes, eggs, bacon and fresh fruit. The coffee still piping hot in their mugs. Neither of them speak; Ovi’s attention on the cell phone in his hands, Tyler’s on Esme and Declan down on the beach. She’s in that one piece black suit that’s so simple yet so sexy; cut high on the hip and tied around the neck. Her skin is wet and glistens in the light, and she wears one of his ball caps to protect her head and eyes from harsh rays of sun that bounce off the ocean. She has a firm grasp on Declan; her hold tight on the back of his life jacket as he fearlessly wanders further into the water and she follows dutifully -and protectively- behind. 

He can’t help but think of how vulnerable they are; out in the wide open like that and him a hundred yards away. And he wonders if someone is watching them right now; a pair of binoculars pressed to their face, observing everything from the confines of the neighbor’s property. There’s no panic or anxiety that accompany those thoughts. Just rage. Pure, raw and violent rage that someone would not only have the nerve to threaten his family, but that his past life and the things he’s done and the people he’s pissed off are once again catching up to him.

“So…” Ovi says, as he places his phone on the table. “...this business thing.”

“Where’s Chloe?” Tyler asks.

Ovi shrugs. “Still sleeping, I guess. Why?”

“She been in contact with her family? Anyone else back home?”

“She talks to her folks all the time. And a few friends.” Ovi sips his coffee. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do any of them know? Who I really am? What I used to do?”

“Just her parents. And you said it was okay to tell them as long as they promised to keep their mouths shut about it. Which they have, as far as I know. Why?”

“That’s it? No one else? No friends, no other family? That she would have told?”

“She wouldn’t have a reason to tell anyone. It’s no one’s business; what you used to do. What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right? Why? What’s going on? What…?”

“Nothing,” Tyler gives a small, reassuring smile “Just some stuff that’s been on my mind, that’s all. It’s probably nothing. So you still want to do it? You still want a shot? At the job?”

The younger man nods.

“You’re one hunderd percent sure it’s what you want?”

“Look, I appreciate the breakfast and the coffee, but if you’re just going to try and talk me out of it…”

“I want you to come work for me.”

Ovi blinks.

“I’m starting something up. My own gig. A way to get back into the game without actually getting back into it. It’ll start slow and be pretty small at first; us and a few guys I’ve worked with before and I know I can trust. It’ll take a while to get off the ground. Money won’t be great at first. But I’d rather you be working for me than Nik.”

Ovi’s eyes narrow and his brow furrows. “Isn’t that the same idea I had? Wasn’t it…”

“We’re not going to be partners,” Tyler informs him. “This isn’t going to be fifty-fifty. I’m in charge. I’m going to be running things. It’ll be strictly my operation. You’ll just be working for me. As a merc. If that’s still what you want to do.”

“It is. It definitely is.”

“I’m going to bring someone in to help train you. Someone I helped over in New Zealand. Young guy; ex Marine. He’s good. Damn good.”

“As good as you?”

A sly smile tugs at the corners of Tyler’s mouth. “There’s no one as good as me, kid.”

It isn’t conceit. It’s just the truth. He knows it. Ovi knows it. 

“And these people will work for you?”

“I know they will. Once they hear I’m back in the game, they’ll jump at the chance. You don’t how things world; how things travel in the circle. My name and my rep were pretty well known before you and Dhaka. Surviving that shit? That just made them even bigger and better. I know I can pull this off. Once word gets out who is running things, we’re going to be pulling in the big jobs. Big jobs that pay big money.”

“How big?”

“IRA gave me five mill, right? We’ll be pulling in money even bigger than that. Per job.”

Ovi’s eyes widen and he nods slowly, palms rubbing against the side of his mug as he considers everything being said.

“I’ll be the one that decides what you do,” Tyler continues. “You’re not going to get the choice on what jobs you go on. Not until you have a lot of years in. That’s how it works; more experienced guys get the harder and more dangerous gigs. These are guys that have been doing this shit for a long time. Ex military. SASR, Marines, Navy Seals, Green Beret. Shit like that. These are guys that have seen shit and done shit you can only imagine. You won’t be stepping on their toes. Not on my watch. Understand me?”

“I understand.”

“You gotta start at the bottom. Just like I did. You think I started out doing shit like Dhaka? Fuck no. I was getting sent on jobs that only took a couple of hours. Mickey Mouse shit that a toddler probably could have done. But there’s a ladder you have to climb; you don’t just get put at the top without earning your way. It doesn’t work that way. It’s going to take a while to get there. You gotta want it.”

“I do,” Ovi insists. “I do want it.”

“You gotta put in the work, kid. You gotta bust your ass to make a name for yourself. To get sent out there with the big boys. And this guy I have in mind, Nathan, he’s going to put you through the ringer. And so am I. Until I have you on the ground in a puddle of your own puke and piss, crying for your mother. I’m not fucking around here. I’m dead serious. So if you don’t think you have what it takes, you better back away right now. Because I don’t want fuck ups. Fuck ups lead to people dying. Good people. And I won’t tolerate that shit. Hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“I’m going to give you some names and numbers. Of guys you should talk to. That’ll have all the advice and all the stories that you need to hear. I’ll let them know you’re going to call. From here on out, you work for me and only me. And you only talk to me and who I tell you to. No more Nik. You cut ties. Completely. Okay?”

Ovi nods. “Okay.”

Tyler swallows the remains of his coffee and stands up. “I got people I need to call. Contacts that can help us out and get us what we need. Weapons, ammo, tech. All that shit. We start the day after Millie’s birthday. First thing in the morning. I’ll get Nathan here sooner so you guys can meet and get to know each other. I don’t want you talking about this to anyone, understand me? Not Chloe. Not Nik. Not Kyle. No one. The only three people around here that know about this are me, you, and Esme. Keep it that way.”

“I will,” the younger man promises.

“I’d be hitting the gym,” he suggests. “Hard core. I’ll meet you in there around one. I’d eat some more and hydrate the fuck out of yourself. You’re gonna need it.”

“What are you going to do?” Ovi asks, as Tyler heads for the door.

“First I’m going to get this shit started and off the ground,” he replies. “Second, I’m going to find out just who the fuck the neighbour is.”


	31. Chapter 31

Two days later he finds himself on a chartered plane to The Kimberley; paying handsomely and out of pocket for the privacy and security that a flight of that nature could...and would...provide him with. Contacting an old buddy from his SASR days that had started his own travel company flying people throughout the northern territory of Australia; mostly tourists wanting to spend their time roaming the remotest of places. Thrill seekers who wanted to try their hand at cliff diving or getting up close and personal with the prolific wildlife; exploring the waterfalls and the gorges and getting a taste of life in the outback. When Tyler had called and offered triple what one day of flights would bring in plus a bonus for fuel and for a vow silence, his buddy had jumped at the chance. Clearing his schedule for twenty-five hours and offering at be at Tyler’s beck and call, promising not to ask any questions or expect any answers or explanations. He was on a need to know basis, and he simply didn’t need to know.

He rents a vehicle in Broome under a fake name; paying cash and giving extra when he fails to provide any identification verifying who he is. He barely speaks; simple yes or no answers, never giving too much or too little. Keeping his sunglasses over his eyes and his ball cap on his head; beard trimmed close to his face; hair tightly cropped to the scalp. He wants to keep things on the down low just in case he is on someone’s radar. The less people who know his business, the better. Fewer bread crumbs left scattered about means he has a better chance of keeping things off the grid. If someone IS watching him and his family, it’s of dire importance to keep things quiet. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t arouse suspicion. And most importantly, don’t put an even bigger target on your back.

He sits in the car rental parking lot; behind the wheel of a Range Rover that’s used to the roads and can handle the rugged and sometimes unforgiving terrain, checking his text messages and emails. The mystery of who Salena actually is continues to deepen; there’s no record of anyone with that name -first or last- having ever attended college of university anywhere in Australia within the past twenty years. Nothing found through the department of transport; no record of a driver’s license issued through them, no vehicle ownership, no tickets or other driving infractions. It’s going to take long than Tyler had anticipated or hoped; his contacts needing time to hack into government databases. Years on the job have left him a wealth of ‘friends’; people who respect and trust him ,who he in turn can rely on to not ask too many questions and he knows won’t turn him away when he shows up out of the blue asking for help.

There had been no luck on the Jeep; other than learning that the plates had been stolen three days before from a grocery store parking lot in Victoria. How they’d ended up on a vehicle in Cooktown presents an even bigger question. He’d wanted to avoid confronting Salena himself; hoping he’d get the answers he wanted -and needed-without resorting to calling her out. He plans to give it three more days. If he hears nothing by the end of the week, he will go over to the house and demand she tell him what the fuck is going on. No one puts his family in jeopardy. Perceived or not. And if he doesn’t hear what he wants, she will find out the hard way just how savage he can actually be. 

He calls home. One of the ‘rules’ they’d adopted years ago -and stuck to - when they’d first gotten married was to always call when you reach your destination; so the other knows that you’ve arrived safe and sound. The other is that you never leave the house without saying ‘I love you’. Life is too short, and if Dhaka had taught them anything. it was how quickly and drastically things could go wrong; your entire existence dramatically -and permanently- altered. And although he hadn’t seen the Jeep or the driver in the past forty eight hours, the lack of leads and solid information have left a bitter taste in his mouth, along with the even more speculation and suspicion. Things are NOT what they seem. He’s one hundred percent sure of that. It isn’t paranoia or hypervigilance or a case of him being an overprotective husband and father; it’s fact. The neighbour and the Jeep driver both sounding the alarm and kicking his instincts into high gear.

He hasn’t said a word. Not wanting to spook her or the kids. For now he simply plays his cards close to his chest. Keeping an eye on everyone and everything; coming up with a game plan for every possible scenario.

“But when will you be home?” Tanner asks, sounding dangerously close to tears. He’d expected Millie or TJ to be the emotional and sensitive ones; they’ve always taken his absences a lot of harder than their brother. Tanner had always been the strong and stoic one; the emotional and moral support for his siblings. But since Tyler’s return from New Zealand, the dynamic between them has changed. Their relationship tighter and stronger than ever.

“I’ll be there when you get home from school tomorrow,” Tyler assures him, his own lump of emotion sitting squarely and solidly in his throat. It’s so fucking hard. Leaving them. Even when it’s just an overnight trip.

“You promise?”

“I promise. I just have a couple of things to do. An old friend to see. Then I’m coming right home.”

“”You’ll be here when we get off the bus?”

“I will. And I tell you, I’ll pick you guys up. We’ll go out and do something before going home. Just the three of us. Okay?”

“Okay daddy,” Tanner swallows noisily.

“You tell Millie and TJ what I said. That I’ll meet you guys at school. And you help out your mum, yeah? You do whatever she saw and whatever she asks. No giving her a hard time. Promise?”

“I promise. You promise, too? That you’ll be there to pick us up?”

“I promise, mate. I’ll be there.”

“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too. And I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me talk to mommy.”

“Okay,” Tanner sniffles noisily, and there’s a slight rustling as the phone is passed from one person to the other, followed by Esme giving gentle yet firm orders about starting -and finishing- homework before anyone is allowed time on the beach.

“You got there okay?” She speaks to him now, voice quiet and tired.

“Safe and sound. It’ll take a couple of hours to get there. I don’t know how good the reception is going to be when I get there. It used to be shit when I lived there.”

“That must have been so disappointing for you and your harem of women,” she teases. “Hard to sext with unreliable reception.”

“You’re a smart ass, you know that?”

“So you tell me.”

“If the signal is decent later, I’ll sext you later.”

“Yeah?” she laughs. “I think I’d rather it happen over the phone. So I can hear your voice. I’d much rather hear you say disgustingly dirty things than type them. You’re a master of naughty talk. And in that voice, ” she sighs happily, then turns serious. “You sound tired.”

“I am. It wasn’t a good night last night.”

Another nightmare; a new one this time. Of masked and heavily armed men breaking into the house and binding him to a chair and forcing him to watch as they raped and murdered his wife. Then shooting him -non fatally- before taking off with the kids. He can still hear their voices; his children...his flesh and blood...screaming in terror and pleading with him to help them. He’d woken up with a choked sob; bolting into a sitting position, body covered head to toe in sweat, tears streaming down his face and his heart pounding and his chest aching. Somehow he’d managed to not wake Esme up, and for an hour he’d laid beside her watching her sleep. Marvelling in the way the moonlight bathed her skin in an ethereal glow and how her lips were curved into the smallest and softest of smiles; the ends of her eyelashes brushing against the top of her cheeks and her body rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. 

And when she’d mentioned at breakfast how restless he’d been through the night, he’d lied and placed the blame on his shoulder and knee. She didn’t need to hear that; the horrific and grotesque details of some fucked up night terror. In the same way he’d never tell her about Gaspar’s real offer and the things Asif had planned for her.

“You’re okay now?” she asks. “Is it any better?”

He wants to tell her that physically he feels pretty damn good; nothing more than a dull ache in the shoulder and a stiff knee. Mentally he’s struggling. The cravings for the Oxy have diminished, but the ones for booze are powerful and nearly all consuming. It’s the stress of not knowing what’s happening; the worry of the unknown. Just exactly who is the new next door neighbor? Who was it that had been watching him and the kids? Is his family going to be safe while he’s gone? Ovi and Kyle are there; and while it gives him some piece of mind, they don’t stand a chance against the type of people that Tyler has faced.

“It’s better,” he replies. “Knee’s a bit stiff but that’s nothing new. I’m always going to hobble like I’m eighty. I’m used to it now.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think your hobble is kind of cute,” she says.

“I’d like to tell you that that makes me feel better, but when you use the word cute…”

“You ARE cute though. In a lot of ways. And you can’t convince me otherwise. You call me cute.”

“Because you ARE cute. You were especially cute this morning when you were looking up at me while waking me up by sucking my…”

“Okay,” she interrupts with a giggle. “We do not need a play by play of this morning. Because it will only get me all hot and bothered and now is not a good time to be hot and bothered. Behave yourself, okay? Don’t get into any trouble.”

“I promise I will not get into any drunken bar brawls.”

“I’d like you stay sober, please. I know how much Koen likes his beer and he’s going to want a drinking buddy and he hasn’t seen you in a long time and...”

“I know how to say no. I’m forty years old. I won’t give in to peer pressure.”

“I just worry about you. I know you’re in a bad place right now and being away from home might make the urges stronger and…”

“ I’m not going to lose you. Or my kids. I’ve got this. It’s not going to beat me.”

“You’re a strong man, Tyler Rake. Regardless of what you think.”

He smiles. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too. Come home quick, play? We miss you. I miss you.”

“That soon?” He grins. “That’s gotta be a record.”

“Well I’ve gotten used to you being around. I know I sometimes bitch and moan about you…”

“Sometimes?”

“...but I still like having you here.”

“Yeah? Well I like being there. You make it pretty easy to stick around.”

“Even with all my bitching and moaning?”

“Even then.” 

“Drive safe, okay? And don’t tell me not to worry about you because that will never happen. If you can get a signal, call me later. Just so I know how you are. I kind of like hearing your voice before I go to sleep.”

“I will,” Tyler promises. “I’ll be home tomorrow. My flight gets in at noon.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Esme, you don’t…”

“I’ll pick you up,” she insists. “Don’t give me a hard time about this. Just me do something nice for you, alright?”

He smiles. “Alright.”

“We’ll talk soon. I love you, Tyler.”

He’s always loved the way his name has sounded coming out of her mouth. Whether it’s sweet and loving like just now, or soft and sleepy when he wakes her up after she’s falling asleep against him on the couch. Or when she’s in the midst of a round of hysterical giggles when he’s tickling her mercilessly or when it’s interspersed with moans and sighs during more intimate moments or she’s screaming it loud enough to wake the dead.

“I love you, Esme,” he says in return. “So much. I’ll see you when I see you.”

She gives a small laugh. “You haven’t said that in a long time. That used to be our ‘thing’. Whenever you’d leave for a job, you never left without saying that. I’ve missed it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that she disconnects the call. And for several minutes he sits there in that dusty parking lot, tears stinging his eyes as he stares down at the phone clutched tightly in his hand.

****

The road is ragged and rough, but there’s a familiarity to it that Tyler has missed. The way the SUV rocks and slides; the crunch and pop of stone and dirt under the tires and the patter of pebbles against metal and the windshield. The plume of dust that is kicked up behind him. It’s been years since he’s been out this way; returning once shortly after he’d finished his stint in rehab after Dhaka. His counsellor convincing him that it would be beneficial to his progress if he visited one last time; the act of saying goodbye to that part of his past giving him a sense of closure, and making it easier for him to get on with the present AND the future. But he’d felt nothing upon his return; he’d never formed any kind of bond with the place, using it primarily as just somewhere to eat and lay his head. And drink himself into oblivion nearly every night.

His mind is much clearer now. It’s been years since he’d last taken Oxy, and six months since even a drop of booze. He feels a little more nostalgic; the mountain range and the sparse treeline coming into view, spying the rusted old gate that’s still standing after all these years. 

He immediately thinks of that afternoon seven years ago when he’d returned home to find a helicopter sitting in his front yard and Nik waiting for him on the porch. He’d been irritated at first; all he’d wanted was to be alone and to wallow in his own self pity and maybe even drink and drug himself to death. Then he’d realized that Nik was likely bringing what he needed the most: an escape. That she had something big for him; a job he couldn’t -and wouldn’t- refuse. And he remembers standing in the kitchen as she sent into a spiel about one drug dealer snatching another drug dealer’s kid and how he was being held in Dhaka. The front door had been open and he’d let his mind wander as she spoke and that’s when he saw her: a tiny brunette with an impossibly tight and toned body in jean shorts, tank top, and flip flops, climbing out of the helicopter. Chatting and laughing over her shoulder with Yaz as she headed towards the shack. Pausing on the porch as Maggie -his old and faithful canine companion- happily greeted the newcomer; immediately flopping over onto her back and demanding stomach rubs. 

He’d stood there watching; barely hearing a word Nik said as he noted all the tattoos and the piercings in her nose and and just below her bottom lip. The way one strap of the tank top kept slipping off her shoulder. Knowing that his life was about to change, but never imagining just how much.

Koen is standing on the front porch when Tyler steps out of the SUV; an Australian cattle dog with a yellow bandana tied around its neck sitting patiently as his friend’s side, tail wagging in excitement. Koen’s one of his oldest -and dearest- friends; serving together throughout their years in the SASR. Walking through hell together in war zones like Kabul and Kandahar; dodging bullets and escaping death and shedding blood, sweat, and tears. He’s a decade older than Tyler; grittier, weathered. Several inches shorter; stocky and wide, his youthful and more muscular days behind him. But he’s rough; tough as nails and fearless. And even now Tyler would still trust him to have his back in even the most dire and dangerous of situations.

“Jesus...Christ…” Koen grumbles as Tyler approaches, and then ruffles the scruff of the dog’s neck. “...Sadie, get the shotgun. We’ve got a sketchy bastard in our midst.”

“Is Sadie your right palm or your left?” Tyler inquires.

“Always were a smart ass little prick. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Nope. But I kiss yours.”

Koen smirks, and in two strides he’s off the porch and embracing Tyler warmly; a tight, affectionate huge that comes with years of surviving the worst together. “Holy shit…” he drawls, and gives Tyler’s hair a tussle and then holds him out at arms length. “...you’re a big bastard now, ain’t ya.”

“Two thirty, two thirty five. Maybe a bit heavier.”

Koen squeezes Tyler’s shoulders, then his biceps. “Like a fucking brick wall. What the hell she been feeding ya?”

“Lots of good shit. She treats me right. I can’t complain.”

“Can’t believe she’s still putting up with the likes of you. I gave her the chance, you know. When you were all laid up in that hospital with a tube in your dick. Told her if she wanted a real man, I was ready, willing, and able. She wouldn’t take me up on it, though. Already attached to you for some fucking reason. How you keeping? Things are good? You look good.”

“I feel good. What’s this?” He slaps the back of his hand against Koen’s stomach. “When ya due?”

“I oughta slap that shit eating grin clear off your face. And I would if I hadn’t missed your sorry face. Good to you, mate. Damn good to see you.” Koen embraces him once again. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it. Didn’t look too good for a while.”

“That was almost seven years ago,” Tyler points out.,

“Been that fucking long?” Koen gives a long, low whistle and shakes his head. “Sometimes feels like it was just yesterday. Getting that call. How she ever tracked me down while you were in a coma, I’ll never know.”

“A nurse gave her my phone. She just went through my contacts, picked a name, and hoped for the best.”

“You’re a fucking lucky bastard, you know. Having a girl like that. Any lady that will stick by your side like that...do the things she did...well that’s a lady worth keeping. You’ve been treating her right, I hope. Because I’m not above calling her and finding out. Or kicking your ass if she’s got bad tales to tell.”

“We’ve been through some shit,” Tyler admits. “But she’s still hanging in there. For some reason or another.”

“Needs her goddamn head read, if you ask me. Why should she be stuck with that,” he nods at Tyler. “When she could have this?”

Tyler just chuckles, and Koen slings an arm around him and leads the way inside.

****

The shack is more habitable now; the living area, bedroom, and kitchen are still open concept, but a wall now separates them from the bathroom. There’s insulation and sheetrock; no rickety wooden planks with gaps and holes that used to let in the rain and dirt when the wind storms picked up. It’s plain yet bright; light beige pint, a wood floor glazed over with a natural stain, hand constructed butcher block counter tops in the kitchen and a toilet, sink, and tub in sparkling condition. The roof is still tin though, and Tyler can vividly recall the sound of rain hammering against it; lonesome and depressing on the darkest and emptier of nights.

Koen gestures for him to take a seat at the kitchen table -the same one that had been there when Tyler had given him the place nearly seven years ago- and he takes a seat in one of the weathered and wobbly chairs. Watching as his old friend moves to the cupboard above the sink and takes out two glasses and a half empty bottle of whisky. Tyler doesn’t say anything at first; silent as Koen pours the amber coloured liquor into the glasses and then places one in front of him before taking a seat across the table. 

He considers it; just ONE drink. Something to take the edge of. His fingertips against the cold, smooth surface of the glass; smelling it, tasting it on his lips and his tongue. The craving gnaws at his belly and preys on his mind; telling him he needs it. Deserves it. And the rim of the glass is pressed against his lips when the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window catches the white gold of his wedding band. The glint capturing his attention; a proverbial kick in the ass for even considering what he was about to do. And he sets the glass down on the table without taking a single sip.

Koen frowns. “Something wrong?”

“I don’t do this anymore,” Tyler says. “Drink. I haven’t for six months.”

He expects some kind of trash talking, or at least a laugh and incredulous shake of the head. But Koen just gives a nod of understanding and then stands up, carrying the glass to the sink and dumping the whisky down the drain.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say something?” He asks, then grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and then sets it down in front of Tyler before returning to his seat. “Sober, huh?”

“Half a year now.”

“Must have been hard.”

“Still is,” Tyler admits. “But I made a promise. To stay clean. To my wife and my kids. And that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

Koen grins. “Good man. About time you cleaned yourself up. You were on a pretty dangerous path there. Didn’t like the way you were headed. But you’re a stubborn bastard and you wouldn’t listen to a damn thing I had to say. Go figure it took a pretty girl to get through to you. She’s good?”

“She’s good,” he confirms. “Very good.”

“And the kids?”

“Getting big. Every day I look at them and I notice things changing about them. And they’re smart. Crazy smart. Especially Millie. So much like her mom.”

“Well thank God she got the brains from her momma because if she got the looks and the smarts from you, I’d pity the poor child. And the new one? How’s she doing?”

“Growing like a weed. Still tiny as hell though. Looks just like Esme.”

He reaches into the side pocket of his cargo short and takes out his phone; bringing up the photo gallery and then passing the cell to his friend. 

“Now ain’t she a teeny thing,” Koen smiles, as he scrolls through the pictures. “How does something that small come from the likes of you? And Jesus, look at the twins. Spitting image of you. Especially this little bloke…” he holds the screen out towards Tyler, showing him a picture of Tanner taken just minutes after he’d gotten Tyler’s old hair cut; the one he’d been sporting when he’d met Esme. “...which one is he?”

“That’s Tanner. The youngest of the two.”

“Fucking looks just like you. Especially with that hair. That’s how I remember you looking. With that hair. Now you got a mini me wandering around out there. Hope all the parents lock their daughters up. Especially if he’s anything like you. You’re very fortunate, you know. Never thought I’d see you like this...a husband...a father...but I’m glad I did. If anyone deserved to get their shit together and deserved to have a second chance at life, it was you. And this…” he holds the phone out once again; a candid photo of Esme on the beach. A close up that Tyler had taken after he’d tried to teach her how to surf; her hair wet and dangling down the sides of her face, freckles of sand on her forehead and cheeks, a slight sunburn on the bridge of her nose, eyes sparkling as she smiled. 

“You lucky fucker,” Koen scoffs. “You better keep on the straight and arrow, ‘cause I reckon there’s a lot of blokes that wouldn’t mind taking your place beside the likes of her.”

“She’s definitely a keeper,” Tyler agrees. “I’m not letting her go anytime soon.”

“Or ever,” his friend says, and he nods. “I was surprised when you called and said you were taking a trip out here. Didn’t expect to you see until next weekend when I gave up the place up for a couple of days. What’s going on? Everything okay?”

“I’ve got something I want to run by you. An idea. A business proposition. I thought it was best if I didn’t wait until next week. And that we should talk about it face to face.”

“Sounds pretty serious. You okay?”

“I’ve got some shit going on.” Tyler admits.

“The PTSD still?”

He nods.

“That shit is a fucking nightmare,” Koen mutters, and takes a long swallow of whisky. “So what’s this about? This idea? This business thing?”

“I’m getting back into the game.”

“The mercenary gig? Why the fuck would you want to do that? Didn’t learn your lesson the first time you took a bullet to the throat?”

“This won’t be like the last time. This is different. I’m different.”

“You’re fucking crazy is what you are. Wanting to get back into that shit. You’ve got a family now. Think that’s the best life for them? For a wife and kids? Especially five little ones. Why would you want to put them through that? Going away and leaving them to wonder if daddy’s ever coming home?”

“Leave my kids out of this. It has nothing to do with them.”

“It has everything to do with them,” Koen growls. “I can see why you’d want to do this if you were alone and had nothing to lose. But fuck, mate. You’ve got everything to lose. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tyler scowls. “You going to listen to what I have to say or are you just going to keep lecturing me?”

“I should be beating your ass is what I should be doing. For being so fucking stupid.”

“You done? You going to let me talk or…”

“I need another drink to put up with the likes of you,” Koen mutters, then gets up from the table and pours himself another. 

“I’m starting my own business,” Tyler tells him.

“Your own merc business?”

He nods.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Koen knocks back the whisky in one gulp. “Why the ever loving hell?”

“I’ve already started getting the word out. Reaching out to people I’ve done jobs for, guys I’ve worked with, contacts I’ve held onto. Once things really start spreading around, there won’t be a shortage of jobs. And guys willing to jump ship to come work for me.”

“So why you here? Why come talk to me?”

“I’m offering you a job.”

Koen’s eyes narrow. “As a merc?”

“A well paid one.”

“Holy...shit…” Koen chuckles and shakes his head. “What in the blue hell?”

“You and I go back a lot of years,” Tyler reminds him.

“A hell of a lot,” his friend agrees.

And I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t trust you. With my life I know a lot of guys...a lot of experienced mercs...and I still would want you having my back over any of them.”

“Don’t try and sweet talk me, blue eyes. Your pretty face won’t work its magic on me.”

“You’ve got the experience. You’ve put in a fuck of a lot of years with the SARS. Even more than me. So you’d be able to do this. You’re a hell of a good shot, you’ve got tons of combat experience, and you know your way around a tons of different weapons. Your hand to hand combat leaves a little to be desired, but…”

“A little to be desired, huh? How about we go outside right now and I show you how good my hands are.”

Tyler scoffs. “You wanting me to fight me or are you offering to jerk me off?”

Koen smirks.

“I know your military benefits are shit. Probably not much more than mine. You can’t live off that forever. I’m offering you a chance of a lifetime here. We’re talking big money.”

“How big?”

“These would be big jobs. High profile clients. You know that gig I had in Ireland? Right before we moved back here?”

Koen nods.

“I got five million for that. And that was only part of the job. I didn’t even need to see it through. Imagine the kind of payouts we’d bring in from big spenders?”

“Are you telling me I’m sitting across from a millionaire right now?”

Tyler just smiles.

“Jesus fuck. Are you serious?”

“I won’t tell you who paid me. That doesn’t matter. But we’d be attracting people with even more money and even bigger scores to settle. You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound like something you’d go for.”

“How many of us are there?”

“I’ve got three so far. An ex Marine, Ovi…”

“The kind you pulled out of Dhaka?”

“...and Rata.”

Koen’s glass is pressed against his lips. “You already talked to that rat bastard? Before me? When?”

“Last night he came by the house. He was in Cairns with that new girlfriend of his. Didn’t take much to get him to come on board.”

“Yeah, he’s always been a few bricks short a load, though.”

“I need you in on this,” Tyler insists. “You’d be the perfect fit. I know the things you can do. I saw them...for myself...in Kabul and Kandahar. This is right up your alley.”

“How the hell are you going to pull this off? Get everything you need? Guns, ammo, whatever the fuck else a merc uses.”

“You don’t spend years as a mercenary and not make contacts. Reliable ones. I’ve got a guy stopping here in the morning. He has a haul of stuff for me. Rifles, handguns, utility vests, grenades. You name it. And there’s more where that came from. A lot more.”

“You’re fucking insane, you know that? Getting mixed up with this shit again.”

“Maybe,” Tyler admits. “But it’s what I know. It’s who I am. Why piss away an opportunity like this?”

Koen sighs, then shakes his head and gets up to fetch himself another drink. 

“So,” Tyler says, as he leans back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. “You in or out?”

“Fuck it,” Koen growls, then downs his drink and slams the empty glass down on the counter top. “I’m in.”


	32. Chapter 32

With the kids in bed, she sits on the back patio with a pot of tea and her laptop; the area illuminated by just the screen and the strings of white mini lights that line the edge of the overhang and wrap around the railings. It’s ten thirty at night and despite a state of both mental and physical exhaustion, she can’t sleep. Concern playing on her; gnawing at her stomach and sitting heavily on her chest and making her a nervous wreck. It’s many things. The worry that surrounds Tyler’s mental state and his heightened battle with the demons of addiction, the anxiety of their -as not only a couple, but as partners and teammates- delving back into the dangerous and unpredictable world of the job, TJ’s lingering and worsening issues at school. Now there’s an incessant nagging deep within her; a warning that something just isn’t quite right. She can’t quite put her finger on it or explain exactly what she feels, but it’s there. Neither dread of overpowering worry, but a nibbling of suspicion; something telling her that things aren’t what they seem. She doesn’t feel threatened or in danger; it’s nothing that serious. But something IS wrong.

She checks her email; a shared account she’d set up with Tyler when he began putting the word out that he was getting into the game; creating his own operation and looking for only guys interested in mercenary work, but people who could supply -on an ongoing basis- with everything he’d need to run the business. Interest has come fast and furious and hasn’t slowed down; an inbox flooded with still practicing mercs looking to jump ship and join his team, retired guys with the itch to get back into it, old military buddies wanting to try something new, contacts with seemingly endless supplies of weapons and ammo and technology. Everything and anything that a merc business could possibly want and need. And with the aid of a pen and pad of paper, she takes notes, jotting down names and numbers and details; underlying those that need to be contacted first. There’s so much to do and it’s all happening so fast; coming together a lot quicker and easier than either of them had expected it to. It’s what a good, solid reputation and years of shedding blood, sweat, and tears will do; earning you valuable resources and gaining you a long list of people wanting -and willing- to work alongside you. Even former clients that had been loyal to Nik have been in contact; high profile and extremely wealthy, so pleased with his previous work and results that they’re suggesting other high rollers who need work done.

She returns a vast majority of the emails; explaining who she is and what her role in the game was years ago, and what it is now. Then snaps the lid closed on the laptop and leans back in her chair; sighing heavily as she rakes both hands through her hair and then closes her eyes, hands clasped together and resting on her stomach. Relaxed by the sound of the ocean behind her and the breeze rustling the tops of the trees; feeling on the verge of sleep when she hears the faint yet noticeable creaking of the patio’s wooden steps. Giving a small start; hair on the back of her neck standing on end, hands immediately gripping the arm rests of the chair, eyes snapping open as her head turns in the direction of whoever is sneaking up on her.

“Sorry,” Ovi gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. I was half asleep. You know how things always sound ten times as loud and seem ten times scarier when you’re drifting off?”

He nods, then nervously wrings his hands together before showing them in the pockets of the plaid sleep pants he sports; anxiously bouncing up and down on his heels. Lips set in a thin line, the glow from the mini lights shimmering in his dark, soulful eyes.

“Want some tea?” she inquires, and his posture and face immediately relax. “Just go and grab yourself a mug. And something to eat if you want. I wasn’t expecting company.”

His smile is brighter now; nerves settling. And he heads into the house and returns minutes later, bringing with an oversized mug, bottle of honey from the fridge, and a package of Oreos.

“Excellent choice,” she praises, as he slips into the chair across from her; pouring himself some tea; adding a dollop of honey before opening the cookies. “You couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, as she helps herself to an Oreo, plucking off the top layers and pressing her tongue flat against the white icing.

“I haven’t been sleeping well for a couple of days,” Ovi admits. “A lot on my mind.”

“I hear that.”

“Have you heard from him?”

Esme nods. “He called before the kids went to bed. Just to check in on things and tell them a bedtime story. Or two. Or three. That was a couple of hours ago. I haven’t heard from him since. Not even a text message. But he did say that the signal can get really bad out there, so…” she shrugs. “...it is what it is, I guess.”

“How did he seem?”

“Fine, I guess. Tired. He’s dealing with some shit. With the PTSD and the anxiety and the depression and all the crap that comes with the. But all things considering, he’s doing alright. Things could be worse, I guess.”

“You’re worried about him.” It’s more a statement than a question.

“I always worry about him. Too much, probably. But it’s kind of my thing. I think he’d be worried if I WASN’T worried. I don’t know…” another sigh; finger scraping icing off the cookie and then popping it into her mouth. “Things are...weird...right now.”

“With the whole getting back into the job thing?”

“Honestly, I expected it. I had told him that if he missed it THAT much and it would be the one thing that could keep him sane, that I was okay with him going back. And this way? Running his own business? There won’t be as much worry and stress like there would be if he was going on a job.”

“But..”

“But, like I said, he’s dealing with some things. And these things are worse than anything else.”

“He told me,”, Ovi says. “About wanting to drink. Even about wanting to do the Oxy.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and she sips her tea. “And people wonder why I have bad nerves and gray hair.”

It’s been a journey; starting on the Sultana Kamal Bridge and leading up to this very moment. While she doesn’t regret a single moment or the decisions she’s made, it’s foolish to pretend that things have been easy; that her sanity and patience haven’t put through the ringer. Thankfully there’s been more good times -amazing times, actually...than bad. But when things do go wrong, they’re horrible and soul stealing.

“Do you think he will?” Ovi asks, and she can see the concern in his eyes and hear it in his voice. “Drink? Go back to taking the pills?”

“I honestly don’t know.” It’s painful to admit, and she feels prick of hot, bitter tears. “A person can only take so much. Even someone like Tyler. He’s so strong and so brave and so resilient, but even he has a broken point. And I guess I’m worried that he’s reached it. Love can’t save someone, Ovi. No matter how much you want it to.”

The tears come now; a few errant droplets that cling to her cheeks and stick to the end of her nose and then become so much more. And she places an elbow on the table and her palm to her forehead, eyes tightly screwed shut. She feels ashamed. Weak. Things could be worse. So much worse. Yet here she is, having an emotional meltdown in front of someone who has had years of their own trauma and bullshit to deal with. And she hears the soft squeak of his chair as he leans forward, then the weight of his hand rests upon her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she sniffles. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Or acted like this. Things aren’t THAT bad. They really aren’t.”

“It’s okay,” Ovi says. “You’ve been strong long enough.”

“I just don’t know what to do to help him; I don’t know what else there is. I’m trying so hard to deal with my own shit while helping him with his and I feel like I’m failing no matter how hard I try or no matter what I do. How do I just sit back and watch it happen? How do I watch him suffer and completely fall apart, knowing there’s nothing I can do to stop it? To love someone that much and feel like you’re losing them and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it from happening?”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures her. “He’s tough. He’s strong. He won’t let this beat him. You know he won’t.”

“It just sucks, you know? To watch the person you love more than anything in the world hurt and suffer so bad. To see them in such pain and not be able to do anything about it. And I would do anything...ANYTHING...to make things better for him. There isn’t a length I wouldn’t go to fix things. But I’m so frustrated and I’m so tired and I feel so alone in this whole fucking mess.”

“But you’re not. Alone. I’m here. I get it. And I’m sorry. For how stupid I was. About the job. I just thought it would be something Tyler and I could do together. That might make him feel like he’s useful again. I know he’s been struggling with that; feeling like he isn’t useful.”

“But he is. Useful. He’s a husband and a father and we need him. Healthy. And I was hurt that you didn’t understand that; how bad things could get if he got dragged back into it and never came home. He’s always going on and on about how strong and independent I am and how I’d be fine without him. But I wouldn’t. Be fine. I’d be so far from fine. I don’t think I’d ever get over it; if something happened to him. I don’t think I’d mentally survive it. I’ve spent seven years loving him with everything I am and everything I have and I’m not ready to lose him. I’ll never be ready. And if that makes me weak and pathetic…”

“It doesn’t. It just means you love him and you love your life and you want him to be okay.”

“I just don’t want him to be okay. I need him to be okay. We have kids. Five of them. They need their dad. And when you brought up the job and wanting his help, it scared the shit out of me. Because I know what the job is about and it almost broke us before and I didn’t want to go through that again. I was just scared. And I snapped and I took it out on you and I’m sorry. I never should have said the things I did.”

“You had every right to say them. Everything you said was the truth. He HAS been through a lot. And he’s still going through a lot. But I think this will be good for him. The business.”

“I WANT to disagree, but I think you’re right. I know he’s been struggling with feeling he doesn’t really have a purpose. Like he has nothing to contribute to society. I think this will give him that confidence back. And keep him busy. But I also need it to keep him alive.”

“There’s a better chance of that happening if he’s behind the scenes, right? He’d only have to go out on a job if things went really bad.”

“This is Tyler we’re talking about,” Esme reminds him. “He’ll find a reason -and a way- get out there.”

Ovi grins. “Very true.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep an eye on him. That you won’t let him do anything stupid or reckless. Because he’s not getting any younger and I plan on growing old and gray and miserable with him, and he kind of needs to be around for that.”

Ovi gives a small chuckle, and she issues a heavy sigh and leans back in her chair; using the backs of her hands to clear the tears from her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she says.”I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed around me. You think you would have gotten over that the second I walked in the bathroom while you were getting out of the shower at Gaspar’s.”

“Oh...my...God…” she laughs. “I totally forgot about that. I’m sorry I freaked out on you as bad as I did.”

“I’m sorry I stared for as long as I did. It was my first time...other than things on the internet...seeing someone...a girl...like that. I was just...shocked...I guess…”

“I’m just glad I didn’t traumatize you. That would have been years of very expensive therapy. This is all so strange…” she runs her fingers through her hair, then clasps her hands together at the back of her neck. “...not the you walking in on me naked thing. That was bad enough. The talking with you about this kind of stuff. Serious things. ADULT things. I still remember fourteen year old Ovi. The one I met at the factory. When I tried to keep your mind off things by talking to you about school and hobbies and girls.”

He tries not to think of Dhaka. For years he’d been able to vividly recall the sounds of gunfire and explosions, the smell of gunpowder and lead and the sewer they’d taken refuge in. Every night he would dream of that moment on the bridge; crouching beside Tyler’s side and holding his hand; tears streaming down his face as Tyler told him to run, Ovi in turn begging him to please get up. It’s been almost seven years and it still haunts him; how weak Tyler had been, how vulnerable. The dazed look in his eyes as his life slipped away; strength fading, body and brain beginning to shut down, all hope out getting out Dhaka alive diminishing.

Yet he’d fought back, and for a moment it had seemed as if everything was going to be okay. He’d need urgent medical care and weeks recuperating in the hospital, but at least he was going to survive. And then Farhad had shot him from behind and everything changed. Not just in that moment, but in the days, weeks, months and years that lay ahead.

There hadn’t been many quiet and relaxed moments, but Ovi does remember that conversation in the factory; when she’d actually cared enough to not only see how he was holding up, but to try and keep him calm and lessen the enormity of the situation. When she’d first arrived he’d been surprised when she’d walked through the door; covered in dirt and mud and dried blood. Tyler had told him that someone was meeting up with them; the lone team member that had managed to survive Saju’s onslaught on the boat and in the woods. It would take them a while to get there; they had to head into town -from the extraction point- on foot, waiting until the commotion had settled down and the sun began to set. But he hadn’t expected HER. Barely five feet and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, bringing bottles of water and food she’d managed to steal from shops and curbside vendors along the way. 

“This is Esme,” Tyler had said, and Ovi had seen the small smile that had tugged at the corner of the mercenary’s lips and the fondness that had briefly sparkled in his eyes. He hadn’t known the exact story or the connection between them, but there’d been something there. And whatever it was, it had been enough to momentarily soften the edge, and the face, of such a big, strong man. “She’s here to help.”

“Can you believe it’s been that long?” Ovi asks now. “Since Dhaka? Almost seven years.”

“Sometimes it feels like seventy,” she says. “Other times it feels like seven days.”

“A lot has happened since then. It’s surreal when you sit back and think about it. How many things have happened between then and now. How far we’ve all come.”

“If anyone had told me seven years ago that I’d be married again and have five kids, I would have told them they were insane,” she laughs. “If they said my fake five day husband would become my REAL husband, I would have laughed at them. After all the bullshit and heartache with Mark, I was never...ever...getting married again. I was sure of it. There was no man on the planet that could possibly change my mind. Boy, was I wrong. I guess the universe took that as a challenge.”

“Would you do it again? If you knew then what you know now; knowing what you’d go through. Would you still do it? Hook up with him in Dhaka? Get married? Start a family? All of that?”

“In a heartbeat,” she answers with no hesitation. “Things started out weird and unconventional and it was entirely the wrong place at entirely the wrong time. But considering everything that’s happened since? I’d make the exact same decisions all over again. Things happen for a reason. Or at least I like to think they do. Everything we went through in Dhaka put us on the path we’re on now.”

Ovi nods as he considers her words, slowly sipping his tea.

“Change one thing, you change everything. You haven’t heard that before? About the butterfly effect? When Tyler gets back, ask him about him. He’s a huge believer in it. It’s the chaos theory. He’s not just a pretty face, you know; he’s got some pretty interesting sides to him. If you take the chance and the time to discover them AND he lets you. That’s the biggest challenge. Getting him to let down his guard and show you those sides. But just don’t ask him about The Butterfly Effect movie. Never mention Ashton Kutcher in his presence. It’ll set him off; no one pisses him off quite like Kutcher does.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad it didn’t break you guys. The job. That you just learned to live with it.”

“I tolerate it. At best. And there’s been times I haven’t done that very well. You’ve lived under the same roof as us. You used to hear the fights. How bad they would get. They were always about the job. Always.”

“And now?” he asks. “You think it will be different this time?”

She sighs and swallows the remains of her tea. “God, I hope so.”

****

It’s shortly after midnight when his phone rings; springing to life as it sits on the coffee table just inches from where he rests on Koen’s couch. He’d been drifting off; lulled to sleep by the pattering of rain on the tin roof and the soft snoring from from the other side of the shack. 

His initial reaction is worry. No one calls at that time of the night unless there’s an emergency or they have bad news to drop on you. Immediately his mind focuses on all the mystery and suspicion surrounding Salena’s true identity and the Jeep with the stolen plates and its sketchy driver. And his heart is hammering wildly in his chest as he reaches for his phone; all the worst case scenarios run through his head. That someone has grabbed his kids.Or his wife. That they’re missing or injured or even worse, dead. He’d only talk to them four hours ago. Listening to them ramble on about what they’d learned at that school that day and all the fun they’d had in the water with Uncle Kyle and Ovi; telling them bedtime stories and giving them repeated reassurances that he’d there to pick them up after school tomorrow. And he’d called Esme two hours later; when he could finally get service again and all of her text messages began rolling in. 

Everything had been fine. She’d sounded exhausted but had assured him that nothing seemed out of the ordinary; he’d told her that him ‘coming out of the woodwork’ in regards to the job would likely ruffle some feathers and get the attention of people who’d been looking for him for years and most likely thought he was dead. She’d told him that Ovi had stopped by and that they’d done the proverbial ‘kiss and make up’ and that they’d finally cleared the air between them. And she’d sounded relieved when he’d seemed sober and coherent; that he hadn’t succumbed to the demons and the cravings. Not yet, anyway. Even with Koen polishing off an entire bottle of whisky on his own and pounding back a dozen shots of tequila.

Tyler remembers those times, but doesn’t miss them; living in a constant haze, the days and nights all blending together in one huge incoherent mess, passing out in the midst of drunken and doped up stupor and not caring if he even woke up from it. He’d reverted back to that once; during their six month separation and he’d felt as if he’d lost everything that mattered in his life. Worried that she’d take the kids and simply disappear and he’d never see them again. That any day someone would show up on his doorstep and serve him with divorce papers. Wondering if she’d already move on and there was already someone else in her bed...THEIR bed. It was that thought that would send him into a blind, drunk rage. Punching walls and destroying anything and everything he could get hands on; not able to handle the thought of anyone else being with her. Touching her. Kissing her. Fucking her. If he’d been sober he’d have realized how irrational that thinking was. She wasn’t that type. Far from it. He was one of only three men she’d ever been with and it just wasn’t in her nature to fuck around on him, whether they were separated or not. 

He’d been a mess those entire six months; only getting sober long enough to take whatever job Nik offered. Even then he’d still taken the Oxy; needing something to take the edge off. And then some. And he’d sent Esme text messages and voicemails; starting out completely lucid and then slowly becoming nothing but drunken profanity and threats and incoherent apologies. He’d even shown up at the house several times, stooping low enough to beg her to take him back. She’d let him inside. Sometimes she’d caved in and they’d fuck; sex being the one and only time they wouldn’t fight and things would seem normal again. At least temporarily. But she’d always make him sleep on the couch; forcing him to be out the door before the kids got up. It was hard enough on them; they didn’t need to be confused on top of everything else. Soon he began missing school events and soccer games and even planned visitations; too drunk and too messed on meds and the combination of the two to even stumble out of bed and make an effort. 

That should have been the end of it. The final nail in the coffin. Bit she’d still taken him back; calling him in the middle of the night, asking him to come home. Saying that she missed him...the OLD him...and didn’t want to let that Tyler go; knowing he was still in there, determined to get him back. And they’d worked on things. Together. They went to therapy -together and separate- and busted their asses to put their marriage back together and make it stronger. It had been a hell of a long road; often painful and difficult. But more than worth it in the end.

Tyler reaches for his phone, snagging it off the coffee table and not bothering to check the caller id before answering. And he doesn’t even get a single word in greeting out before the voice on the other end snarls at him.

“What the hell have you done?”

Nik.

Fuck.

She’s the last person he wants to deal with. Word travel fasts, and he knew it would reach her eventually. But he hadn't expected it to happen THIS soon.

“Nik.” He simply greets.

“Tyler.”

“I’d say it’s good to hear from you, but…”

“You could find an ounce of decency in you to contact me first? To tell me what you were going to do? I had to find tout like this? Through the grapevine? You hate me that much?”

He groans as he sits up; wincing as he stretches his legs out and places his feet on the coffee table. “I don’t hate you,” he says. “I should. Considering how many times you tried to fuck my marriage up.

“You didn’t need any help with that. You found your own ways to screw things up. And if you had been thinking with your head and not your dick and found someone decent and worthwhile…”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about, Nik. You don’t talk about her like that. Ever. So unless you want me telling you to fuck off and hanging up on you…”

“You of people,” she continues. “You’re the last one I thought would do this to me. Is this some kind of revenge, Tyler? The one and only way you know how to get back at me? The only thing you know will hurt? You want revenge THAT bad?”

“This isn’t revenge.”

“You’re still so bitter and so angry about Dhaka that you’d stoop low this?”

“This has nothing to do with Dhaka,” he argues. “Or revenge. I’m moved on from all of that. From you and your bullshit. You left us on the bridge to die. You tried fucking up my marriage. You manipulated the hell out of me to get me back into the hob. And I won’t even get into the goddamn mess you dragged me into with McMann.”

“You went into that willingly. Because of the threat to your family. But then you snapped and you went way overboard and…”

“What do you want, Nik?”

“I want to know why you would do this to me. Get back into things. Start your own operation.:

“It has nothing to do with you. I wanted back in. In a way that I didn’t have to constantly abandon my family. In a way I could have control over things. So fuck you and your ego. The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Nik. Regardless of what you think.”

“This has everything to do with me when it endangers my career and my livelihood.”

“Give me a break,” Tyler scoffs. “There’s enough bullshit going on in the world for both of us. What about all the other merc businesses out there? You have a problem with them too?”

“I have a problem with you betraying me. Going behind my back and intentionally trying to ruin me. Remember when you agreed to work for me? Run things in North America? That was our deal and you bailed on it. Once you had your mental breakdown in New Zealand and you decided you wanted out. And I let you walk away.”

He laughs. “You let me? You didn’t have a fucking choice. You don’t own me, Nik. You don’t control me. You never did. I had my reasons for leaving. Legit reasons. Just because you couldn’t understand them or accept them…”

“Those reasons still exist, Tyler. You still have a wife. And kids. Or at least you did the last time I heard.”

“My wife and my kids will always be here. So don’t get your hopes up.”

She snorts. “You really think THAT highly of yourself?”

“You’re the one that spent nearly seven years trying to break up my marriage and hop on my dick,” he reminds her. “And go figure; Kyle smartens up and you start calling me again. Should have seen that coming.”

“Get over yourself, Tyler. You’re good. But you’re not THAT good.”

“You weren’t saying that at the time. ALL the times. I bet you still think about it, don’t you. About me. I bet on those really lonesome nights…”

“You’re a real dick, you know that? How could you do this to me? Betray me like this? Get into the game and jeopardize everything I’ve worked for.”

“Like I said, this has nothing to do with you.”

“This has everything to do with me! I have client bailing and mercs jumping ship because they’d rather deal with you.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have been so good at my job, huh?”

“You knew this would happen. You know what kind of reputation you have. And you capitalized on it. Just so you could fuck me.”

“I’ve fucked you before, Nik. And I didn’t like it much.. But beggars can’t be choosers, so…”

“You of all people,” she ignores the cheap shot. “I was the one who took you on. Gave you a chance. Gave you something to do with your shitty life. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten a second chance. There’d be no Esme and there’d be no kids and you’d still be a miserable, pathetic drunk and drug addict. And this is how you repay me? Then is what I get in return for everything I’ve done for you?”

“You left me on that bridge to die. You left Esme there. Knowing what would happen if Asif got a hold of her. All because you were pissed that we’d been fucking for the last five days and you were pissed if wasn’t you.”

“It was wrong,” Nik snarls. “What you did. What you BOTH did. I didn’t send you there for that. If you wanted to fuck her, you should have waited and fucked her on your own time. Not mine.”

“And you showing up all those times at my hotel room when I was on job was different in what way?” Tyler challenges. “You weren’t upset that Esme and I hooked up on the job. You were upset it wasn’t you. And it pissed you off even more when she stuck around after Dhaka; once you realized she wasn’t going anywhere.”

“It was a mistake. You and her. Right from the start. Putting the two of you together like that. I should have known that nothing good would come of it.”

“That’s the thing, Nik. A lot of good DID come out of it. And that’s what you hate. That things went a lot farther than you thought they would. Accept it; you lost and you couldn’t handle it. And no matter how hard you try, I’m still going to have a wife and kids.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?”

“I can play dirty too,” she informs him. 

“Is that a threat? You’d actually do something to them? To my family? What kind of messed up shit is that? You go anywhere near them and I will end you, Nik.”

“I’d never hurt them. The fact you’d even think that…”

“Stay away from them,” he warns. “Stay away from my wife and my kids. If I even find out you tried calling her, I will show up on your doorstep and fuck your shit right up. No one will be able to protect you. No one. So I’d think twice about whatever you’re planning.”

“Now who’s threatening?”

“I’m serious, Nik. Don’t mess with my family. Bigger and better than you have tried. And it didn’t end well for them.”

“You won’t get away with this, Tyler. Screwing me like this. Stealing my clients and my mercs and my contacts.”

“It’s not a competition. There’s tons of work for both of us. Get a grip.”

“You get a grip. This is your reality now. You betrayed me. You. Of all people. The one person I thought I would always trust no matter what. And you’ll pay for that, Tyler. One way or another.”

“Don’t call me again, Nik. This is over.”

“This is far from over. This is…”

Tyler doesn’t wait for her to finish; abruptly ending the call and then tossing his phone onto the table. Across the room Koen stirs; snorting and coughing in his sleep and then rolling over onto his stomach, pillow over his head.

He contemplates calling home; giving her a heads up, letting her know that Nik is on the warpath and has a score to settle. But it’s late; he’ll only wake her up and quite possibly the kids, and he highly doubts Nik will start her shit this late at night. 

His shoulder hurts; every nerve from the back of his neck to the tips of his fingers feel as if they are on fire. And he reaches for the bottle of meds that sit alongside his phone. Nothing even close to Oxy; Tylenol threes, extra strength with codeine. They barely take the edge off most days; having to resort to taking way more than deemed safe by the professionals. 

The recommended dose is two at a time, every eight hours.

He shakes seven into the palm of his hand. Swallowing them dry.


	33. Chapter 33

It’s six thirty in the morning when he steps out onto the front porch; barefoot and blurry eyed, still clad in just a pair of boxer briefs, cup of coffee in one hand and phone in the other. After Nik’s call he’d fallen into a restless sleep; dreaming of Dhaka and the night at Gaspar’s house when he’d been given the five million dollar deal. This time he’d made a different decision; willingly giving both Ovi and Esme up in exchange for money and his freedom. Asif had been there, sitting in a darkened corner; watching and listening. A pleased, victorious smile on his lips as his right hand man brought over his two new favourite playthings. They’d been drugged; minds and eyes hazy, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated. He’d had a change of heart at the last moment; offering his life in exchange for hers. Begging and pleading with Asif to ‘take me instead of the girl’. Asif had just laughed, then grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at Tyler. Mocking her, telling her to look at the big, strong man now; crying like a baby and bargaining to save her. How did that make her feel? Knowing he could be so weak? That she was the one capable of making him that way? Is that really what she wanted? Someone so pathetic? Or did she want a real man like him. Then he’d his hand had moved to her throat; fingers digging into the soft flesh with enough power and pressure to steal her breath. And he’d kissed her. Savagely. Brutally. 

And she’d kissed him back.

Tyler woke up breathless; near sobbing. Tears spilling down his cheeks, his heart thundering, and chest aching. Initially panicking at the unfamiliar surroundings and bolting upright, wide -almost terrified- eyes taking in everything around him; the furnishings, the color of the walls, his old friend sleeping soundly across the room, the cattle dog sitting beside the couch, curiously watching him. And it hadn’t been until he’d glanced out the window and caught sight of the mountain range, tree line, and brush that reality had finally settled in. He was no longer in Dhaka. Not at Gaspar’s outside the city limits. It was seven years ago. Not now. He’d turned down the offer and Asif hadn’t been there; he’d never laid a hand on her and he’d never kissed her. None of that had ever happened. Just his mind -broken and in tatters- playing tricks on him. They’d made it out of Bangladesh. She was saife. At home. In bed. THEIR bed.

He’d been tempted to call; just to hear her voice; needing that extra bit of reassurance that everything was fine. SHE was fine. But he knew what the mornings could be like; up before the sunrise with the baby, then tending to Declan and getting breakfast made and three kids up and ready for school. Ovi would be there; promising to keep an eye on things and lending a hand whenever it was needed. Kyle couldn’t be relied on; too busy getting his rocks off with Salena. Or whatever the hell her real name is. And Tyler had briefly wondered if getting into Kyle’s life had been part of whatever the new neighbor was up to; a way of weaseling her way into their lives for some fucked. The uncertainty eats at him; knowing that something isn’t quite right yet not being able to prove it or get the information that he needs. Way too many things pointing towards trouble; the Jeep with the stolen plates and the driver with the earpiece that had been watching him and the kids. Salena getting out of the passenger seat with a stack of folders under her arm and no record of her actually existing. All the ingredients, everything needed, to create a huge goddamn mess.

His head throbs. A mixture of lack of sleep and not eating properly. The cravings are intense. When he’d gone into the kitchen to make himself a coffee, he’d been greeted by all the whisky and scotch bottles that littered the counters and shelves; some empty, others half full, a handful still sealed. And his hands had been shaking as he’d considered it; one on a glass and the other around a bottle of scotch. His brain exhausted from dealing with the nightmare, trying to piece together the bullshit with the neighbor, and the call from Nik and the threats she’d made. A single wouldn’t hurt. That’s what the demon on his shoulder had been telling him. That he could stop at just one and walk away; get enough to satisfy the craving, get the taste of it on his lips and tongue. And he’d been close. So close. Seconds away from pouring the scotch into a glass. And then as quick as the desperation and the need had come, it had disappeared. Leaving him feeling weak and shamed and completely disgusted with himself.

Now he sits on the edge of the porch, feeling ground with his feet pressed against the damp earth. It had rained considerably last night; puddles of mud, lower temperatures, and a fresh and familiar earthy smell in its wake. Sadie hasn’t left his side since he’d arrived yesterday; now pressed tightly to him, chin resting on his thigh as he sips his coffee and checks his text messages and emails. Skipping over the angry rants left by Nik and the irritated ‘clearly out of fucks’- one that Yaz had contributed. Tyler hasn’t heard from him since New Zealand; the one other man taking it as a personal slight that he’d given it all up and walked away without even a glance back. 

There’s dozens of emails from the contacts he’d reached out to; mercs wanting to work for him and offering their services, retired guys wanting to get back into the game, people who can supply him with weapons and ammo and every other accessory and piece of technology he can imagine. Even mail from former clients; guys he’d done jobs for and had been so impressed with his efficient -and successful- work. They’re pleased that he’s not only back in action, but that he’s actually still alive. They have resources for him; supplies, money, names and numbers of other high profile people that may need some work done. And he sees the emails that his wife has returned, smiling as he reads her replies; concise, confident, intelligent. As if she’s never spent a single moment away from the job; smoothly and effortlessly transitioning back into her old life. 

It won’t be easy; balancing the job and running a business while trying to keep a marriage afloat and raise five kids. But there’s no doubt in his mind that they can do it. They’re stronger together than they are apart; they always have been. And if they can survive the past seven years -especially his addiction issues and a six month separation that should have broken them-, they can survive anything.

He sends a text message. Telling her how much he loves her. Misses her. How he can’t wait to see her. That he’s proud of her. Not just the way that she’s handling the business side of things, but EVERYTHING. The way she’s always fought for them. For HIM. How she raises his kids. Pouring his heart out with every letter that appears on the screen. He’d not normally that ‘type’, grand displays of affection and sincere, romantic words not his strong suit. But the nightmare -especially the way Asif had kissed her and she’d reciprocated- has left him feeling unsettled; needing to get things off his chest. The things he feels but always struggles to say.

She quickly sends a text in response. I LOVE YOU. SO MUCH. WE MISS YOU. Accompanied by a selfie of herself and Millie lying in the middle of their bed, both with sleepy smiles and messy hair and hands down the two most beautiful girls in the world. And he thinks of what Koen had said; about how lucky he is and that any woman who would stuck his side -through everything- was a woman worth holding onto him. She could have easily left that day on the bridge; he wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. But she’d ignored Nik and stuck around and put her own ass on line in an attempt to save his. And that’s nothing you easily thank someone for.

“You really are out of your damn mind,” Koen grumbles, as he wanders out onto the porch, his own cup of coffee in his hand; hair messy from sleep and eyes stilly glassy from all the booze he’d consumed. “Up at these hours of the morning.”

“This is pretty normal for me. Has been since I got clean.”

“Probably used to getting up with the rugrats,” Koen reasons, and takes a seat beside him. “Everything okay?” he nods down at the phone still clutched in Tyler’s hand. “At home?”

“Yeah. Everything’s good. Just checking in on everyone. Making sure they haven’t driven their mom crazy yet.”

“She must already be crazy. Having that many kids with the likes of you. How the hell she puts up with you is beyond me. I’d only be able to stand looking at that ugly mug for so long.”

“You must not look in the mirror very often.”

Koen smirks. “Smart ass. You always were quick with the shit head comments. Thought maybe all that oxygen you were deprived of might have slowed you down a bit. But here I am, dealing with your crap.”

“Admit it. You missed me.”

“About as much as I miss my two ex wives,” Koen scoffs, and then digs a playful elbow in Tyler’s ribs. “You miss it? Living out here?”

“Not really. I have a better life now. A nice place right on the beach. Tons of property. Perfect for raising kids. Wouldn’t have been able to do that out here. We probably would have tried, bt…” he sips his coffee and shrugs. “...we’re happy where we are.”

“Smartest thing you ever did; coming home. No better place to bring up a handful of kids, if you ask me. It’s weird as hell though,” he chuckles. “You doing the whole daddy thing all over again. Never thought I’d see the day, to be honest.”

“Neither did I,” Tyler admits, and he thinks about the picture he’d received just minutes before. Millie with her messy, unruly hair and those huge blue eyes that crinkle at the edges when she smiles. How’d he cried when she’d been born and a nurse had placed her in his arms; tears of both relief that she’d made it safely and immense gratitude that he’d been given that chance again. 

After Austin had passed away and his marriage disintegrated, he’d thought that it was it for him. His life had been a mess...HE’D been a mess...and he couldn’t imagine meeting someone that he’d be able to have that kind of experience with. That he’d trust enough to let his guard down around and that could tolerate him and his bullshit long enough to actually fall in with him. That he’d ever find someone to fall in love WITH.

“She’s going to be a heartbreaker that one,” Koen says. “The oldest. Those eyes of hers? All the boys are going to be tripping over themselves to get to her.”

Tyler frowns. “They’re going to have to get through me first.”

“Poor bastards. They’re going to be scared shitless when they walk up the house and you’re the first one out to greet them. I feel for them; trying to date a girl that has you as their father. They’d have no clue that you’re capable of tearing them in half.”

“Anyone touches either of my girls, no one will ever find their bodies. No boyfriends. No dates. No dances. None of that. No one is getting close to them. Ever.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Koen chuckles, and takes a swallow of coffee. And for several minutes they sit in silence; enjoying the feel of the breeze and the smell of fresh, damp earth.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” his friend says. “With the whole merc business. I thought one brush with death would be enough. Apparently not.”

“Things will be different this time. I won’t have to go out in the field as much. Only if things really go to shit.”

“Don’t they always go to shit?”

“Sometimes. Dhaka was the worst, but it wasn’t the first time things went wrong and it won’t be the last. Hopefully we can avoid that level of shit show. I know what I’m doing. I’m not some rookie going into this blind. It was my life for years.”

“But why do you need it to be your life now? Look what you’ve got going for you. You’ve got a wife and little ones. Stability. Why put all that on the line for who you used to be?”

“You having second thoughts?”

“Nope. I said I’m in, I’m in. I’m just worried about you. I don’t you throwing your life away. I don’t want you losing your kids and that pretty little wife of yours. You got a thing going. A damn good thing. You don’t need to fucking that up.”

“It’s something I need to do,” Tyler says. “I need to get back out there. Get back that piece of who I was. I need to feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my life.”

Koen frowns. “You don’t think you are? Doing something worthwhile?”

“What am I doing? I don’t have a nine to five job. No skills outside of what I learned in the military and on the job. I pick up odd shit here and there. Nothing steady. I spend more of my time in the gym or out in the water or spending time with my wife.”

“And you’re complaining about that last part? Spending time with the likes of her? What the fuck is wrong with you? Give her to someone who’d appreciate her then.”

“I’m not complaining. Far from it. I’m just saying there needs to be something more to this life. I feel like I need to be doing something more. I need to feel useful again. Like I’m not just washed up, broken down ex soldier with a drinking problem.”

“You’re a husband. And a dad. You help raise little human beings. There’s nothing useless about that. You should be sitting back enjoying your life. Appreciating what you have right in front of you. How you gonna feel if all this blows up in your face? If things go to hell and you lose everything? What the hell you gonna do then?”

“I don’t know. Put a gun in my mouth?”

Koen scowls. “I’m being serious, mate.”

“So am I.”

“All I’m hoping is that you got your shit together and you know what you’re doing. Because this is some serious stuff here. Getting back into being a merc. And you’ve got a lot to lose now. You’ve got everything to lose. That’s all I’m saying.”

Tyler smirks. “When did you become so sensitive and sentimental?”

“Don’t be a dick about this. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you going back into this and losing what you have. Because you finally got your shit together and got a life that’s worth living.”

“I appreciate you worrying about me and all that, mate. I do. But I’ve got it under control. I know what I’m doing. This isn’t going to be like last time. I won’t let it be.”

Koen sighs. “You always have been a stubborn sonofabitch.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tyler insists. “And I wouldn’t be doing it if I couldn’t handle it. Things will be alright. Esme and I are in this together. We’re on the same page. We’re not going to let this break us.”

“I hope not,” Koen says. “Because I don’t think you’d survive that.”

***

His flight arrives on time, touching down shortly before noon hour at Cooktown airport. She parks the truck on the tarmac and waits; a pair of aviator style sunglasses covering her eyes, fingernails drumming against the steering wheel. She gives the pilot a small wave and a pleasant smile when he nods in her direction; they’d met briefly two days before, when he’d come to the house after Tyler had sought out his help. Short and broad shouldered; brown hair cropped tightly to his head and kind green eyes that sparkle when he smiles. The quintessential ‘boy next door’ with his youthful wholesome good looks and his khaki pants and crisp white golf shirt. Quite the juxtaposition compared to Tyler; all power and muscle and the tattoos and scars that tell of a hard life spent living on the edge. 

This is the furthest she’s ever gotten into the job; not only helping organize and run things, but the acquiring of weapons and ammo and other supplies, and the handling of money -big money- aside from her own payouts. It makes her anxious; knowing that she’s one of two people that others will come to now. Instead of being approached with work and offered jobs, now she’s in charge of finding and assigning them. Gathering intel had been one thing; she’d spent years honing those skills. Being boss is an entirely different animal all in itself.

So much for not getting ‘too involved’.

Four large and heavy locked trunks are placed in the bed of the truck, followed by several smaller duffle bags that are loaded into the back seat. All containing a shockingly generous amount of automatic and semi automatic rifles and handguns, various types of grenades and their launches, knives, and utility vests. Whatever immediate gear that a merc would meet. All would be placed in a storage facility on the outskirts of town, save for a handful that would be kept in the two locked and secure gun lockers that already exist at home; one in their garage and the other in the attic. 

Once things are safely loaded, an envelope of money is exchanged. Everything being handled off the books; no paper trail that can connect the pilot to the or the very illegal transport of weapons. You never know who is watching. Now that word has gotten out and spread like wildfire, support and interest are pouring in. But it isn’t just the good-intentioned that are paying attention; a man like Tyler Rake burns a lot of bridges and makes a lot of enemies. Evil, dangerous people who feel as if he wronged them and have been holding onto grudges and fantasizing about revenge.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, as he slides into the passenger seat. “How was the flight? How…?”

His mouth is on hers before she gets the rest of the words out; a hand tangling in her hair as he aggressively pulls her into him. The kiss is long and soft and sweet at first; his lips bearing a hint of coffee and a touch of mint. But then things quickly take a more intense turn; his tongue pushing its way way into her mouth, the miss much more ravenous and needy. Desperate.

“Wow…” she breathes, when he pulls away, forehead briefly resting against hers before his lips brush against the bridge of her nose. “...what was that for?”

“I wanted to kiss my wife. That’s not allowed?”

“Of course it’s allowed. And encouraged. But that was...intense. That wasn’t your usual ‘back after only twenty four hours’ kiss. That was your ‘I’ve been gone for two or three weeks’ kind of kiss.”

“Guess I just missed you.” he reasons, and then presses his lips to her temple before settling back into his seat and reaching for the belt. 

“Okay, something is going on. You kissed me like THAT and you’re letting me drive your truck?”

“You had to drive it here, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re here now and it’s your baby and usually…”

“It’s just a truck,” he says with a shrug, and buckles his seat belt.

“Something is definitely going on with you.”

Tyler chuckles. “There’s nothing. I didn’t sleep well last night and I have a killer headache and it’s probably just better if you drive. That’s all.”

“Do you have a killer headache because…?”

“I wasn’t drinking iof that’s what you’re going to ask. I stayed sober. I told you I wasn’t going to be like that again and I meant it.”

“What was the dream about?”

“Can’t remember. I just know it was fucked and I don’t want to have it again.”

Her eyes narrow as she watches him, noticing the way he grimaces when he stretches his legs out in front of him and the frown on his face as he rubs at his troublesome knee. The scar is long and jagged; starting three inches above and stopping four inches below. There’d been complications; the surgeon discovering more damage, bone fragments and scar tissue than he’d initially expected and having to not only replace the knee, but repair ligaments and tendons that were nearly severed. 

“What’s this about?” She reaches over to tussle his hair. The length on the top is the same as when he’d left, but the sides and back now shaved as close to the skin as possible. High and tight; a Marine cut. 

“Just something I thought I’d try.”

“You’re going back to the old hair aren’t you,” a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re going to let the top grow out.”

“It’s the look you liked the most, yeah? Now you can’t say I never do anything nice for you.”

“Baby…” she leans across the space between their seats and presses a kiss to his cheek; his beard still full yet trimmed and tidier. “...you’re the best. You know how to keep your girl happy.”

He grins. “Sometimes.”

“All the time,” she says, and places a kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling back into her seat and starting the ignition. A companionable silence falling between them as they pull out of the hanger and head for home. 

****

“ARE you okay?” Esme asks several minutes later. 

“Fine,” Tyler replies, his head tilted back against his seat, eyes closed; one hand on his stomach, the other on her thigh, thumb continuously brushing against her skin. “Just tired. It was a long night. Couldn’t fall asleep and when I did, I had that fucked up dream.”  
“And you don’t remember what it was about?”

“Nope. It wasn’t one of the usual ones, though. Never had this one before. But it was messed up. I remember that much.” 

How do you explain a dream like THAT? That you’d been willing to sacrifice someone’s life for five million dollars; knowing that a drug lord would have used and abused them in horrific and degrading ways before killing them? She doesn’t even know about the whole truth about what happened at Gaspar’s. For nearly seven years she’d assumed that the deal had been for Ovi; that Gaspar had been hell bent on killing him and Tyler refused to give the kid up and all hell broke loose. 

“Hmmm…” she turns her full attention to the road, chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip. She’s used to this; his constant need to keep everything inside and shoulder every single burden on his own. It’s his protective nature; not wanting to add any extra stress or worry to her already overflowing plate. “...and things went okay?”

“Everything went fine. Got Koen on board, got everything we need to get started. Things went good. Place doesn’t even look the same anymore. Not inside, anyway.”

“And he’s still okay with letting us stay there?”

“Yup. Just said to make sure we change the sheets. Said he doesn’t want to be lying in our ‘business’.”

She laughs at that.

“Did Nik call you?” he casually and calmly asks, hand sliding onto the inside of her thigh; fingertips against the bare skin just below the hem of her shorts.

“Nik? Why should she call me? I’m probably the last person she wants to hear from after that night at the restaurant. I’m sure she blames me for Kyle calling things off.”

“Well in all fairness, you did kind of instigate the whole thing. Hooking him with the neighbor. Even after I told you to stay out of it and mind your business.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault it was instant lust between them. We know all about that, don’t we.”

He grins.

“But no. She didn’t call. That’s kind of a weird thing to ask, About Nik.”

“She called me,” Tyler admits, and he notices the way both of her brows arch. “Last night. I only answered because I thought it was you and that maybe something was wrong at home.”

“Why would she call you? Was she having a lonely night? Wanted to have phone sex?”

“I didn’t have the energy. I’d already had phone sex with you, so…”

“Boy that must have broken her heart; the fact you keep shooting her down. Maybe she feels if she keeps bugging you enough she’ll wear you down and you’ll give in.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you; I’m not a cheater. I don’t want anyone else but you. And she actually called to give me shit. I guess what travels faster than we thought it would.”

“Well it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“Later would have been nice.”

“I take it she wasn’t happy.”

Tyler smirks. “That’s one way of putting it. She lost her shit. She’s taking it personally; thinks I did it to purposefully fuck her over and put her out of business.”

“Mercs are jumping ship left, right, and center. I can’t keep up with all the messages and the emails. She’s not going to have anyone left.”

He shrugs. “Guess she shouldn’t have let things go to shit.”

“They went to shit seven years ago when she made the decisions she did. That should have been the end of it; when she was so willing to leave you on the bridge to die. She totally fucked you. And not in a good way. Like whose dick is she sucking that she keeps her job?”

A grin tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “You’re feisty today.”

“I hope you do put her out of business. I hope she loses everything. Because she fucking deserves it. She’s done a lot of shitty things and I’m glad karma is finally biting her in the ass.”

“She’s not going to go down without a fight. She’s pretty pissed. And pretty determined to make my life hell.”

Esme frowns. “She said that? That she’s going to make your life hell?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Well what did she say? Did she threaten to show up and kick your ass? I’d love to see her try.”

“She just said some shit. About us. When I said something about how my wife and my kids will always be around, she made a comment about how she’ll ‘see about that’.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. But I told her I wasn’t fucking around. Don’t threaten my family. It didn’t end well for the last person who tried it and it won’t end well for her.”  
“Nk hardly seems the type that would hurt kids. There’s no doubt in my mind she’d come for me. She’s been wanting me out of the picture for a long time. But to do something to hurt the kids? I can’t see her stooping that low.”

“I don’t think it was a physical threat. Nik’s all about screwing with peoples’ heads. Look what she did to me. She knew I was messed up and she knew exactly what buttons to push to get me to do what she wanted.”

“You think that’s what it is? Psychological warfare? Because she’s never going up against me and that's a battle I will not lose. I’ve gone up against bigger and better than her and I’m still here to tell about it. Besides, what could she possibly say that would bother me that much? After everything I’ve been through in the past seven years? Nothing could unnerve me that badly that it would screw things up between us. Look at everything we’ve been through. That shit we’ve survived. She doesn’t even know HALF of it. Trust me, there’s nothing she could say that could hurt us.”

“It’s Nik. She’ll make shit up if she has to.”

“She can save her breath. I know all your deepest and darkest secrets. So if she thinks she has something to surprise me, she’s got another thing coming. I do, right?” she casts him a sidelong glance. “Know everything I need to know?”

“There’s nothing I haven’t told you. I told you most of it in the first couple of days. Everything else you’ve lived through with me.”

“Then let her make shit up,” Esme shrugs. “I think I trust you word over hers. After everything she’s pulled, I wouldn’t believe a goddamn word she says. And the fact she’d even threaten you? Like, she knows who she’s talking to, right? Someone who killed two people with one garden rake. That’s really who she wants to go up against?”

“She probably thinks I won’t retaliate. I don’t give a shit what history we have. You don’t threaten my family. Ever.”

“Normally I’d tell you you’re being paranoid and you’re way too overprotective, but this side of you is kind of hot.”

He grins. “Kind of?”

“Totally hot,” she admits, then giggles and shoves his hand away when he slides it towards her crotch. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What’s gotten into you the last few days? You’re a little...I don’t know...assertive...when it comes to the whole sex thing.”

“I’m not allowed to want to have sex with my life? First I can’t kiss you a certain way, now I can’t have sex with you either?”

“It’s not that you can’t. You’re just a little more...demanding...than usual. Needy. Needy is a good word for it. And we’ve always had a lot of sex but lately, you’ve just been...extra...about it.”

He gives in an amused smirk. “I’m extra?”

“In a good way,” she assures him.

“Look, I love you. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. And I want to fuck you. So…” his hand once again slides along her thigh, slipping under the leg opening of her shorts. Fingertips grazing against the edge of her simple cotton pants. “...when we get home, that’s what we’re going to do. Fuck.”

“Addie and Declan are there. Ovi’s watching them.”

“Send them to his place. Tell him we need half an hour kid free. He’ll know what that means.”

“A half an hour?” she playfully inquires. “When has it only taken half an hour?”

“I’m in a mood,” he replies, and slides a finger under her panties, and she swallows noisily and her entire body tenses when it pushes through her folds and grazes over her clit.

“Obviously. And you’re going to put me in a mood!” She squeezes her thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. “Stop! I’m trying to drive!”

“Just relax. Let me do this.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Come on…” he grins. “...do it. I know you want to. It’s something we’ve never done before. You can’t tell me you don’t want to try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, Tyler. I could crash and kill us both and our kids would be orphans. That’s pretty much the worst.”

“Do it…” he encourages. “...open your legs...let me do this for you...let me make you feel good.”

She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“Our little secret,” his grin widens. “I promise.”

“You're insane. You really are.”

“Maybe. But I can feel how wet you are. “I know you want it just as much as I do. Just do it. Just this once. Let me to this for you.”

She sighs heavily, thighs releasing the grip on his hand.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, swallowing noisily when he slips another finger between her folds, watching her face as the tips press against her clit. Noticing the flush that creeps into her cheeks and the tips of her ears, the way her teeth dig painfully into her bottom lip.

“You really are a bad influence,” she half-heartedly complains.

“Yeah,” he agrees, as his fingers continue their ministrations. “But you love me though.”

She doesn’t even attempt to deny it.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks and tons of love to @melmac for all her chats, brainstorming, and for the sharing of love for such an amazing and complex character <3

It’s easy to lose yourself in the aggression. When you’ve lived a life where it’s been one your primary emotions and a powerful driving force, it’s impossible to prevent it from creeping into other aspects of your life. Sex has always been one of those areas; where the aggressive comes easily and effortlessly and has always -in the last almost seven years- been encouraged AND enjoyed. A handful of randoms and women he’d had in different parts of the world have been similar. Seeing the tattoos and the scars and the darkness in his eyes and immediately assuming it was his M.O; rough, hard, fast. And he’s always gone along with it; giving them what they wanted and living up to the stereotype that they’d created in their own minds. Sex was an escape; he hadn’t been out to form bonds or develop relationships or make commitments and he’d always been open and honest about that. Just the contacts who came with the job that could -and would- give the supplies you need or the names and numbers you wanted, these women were always more than willing to provide. 

Back then he’d been too drunk and hopped up on meds to think about the decisions he made or the things he did to people or those he may have hurt in the process; all that mattered was that escape. Now that he’s sober, he’s less than proud of his past; a disgusting amount of notches on the proverbial ‘bed post’ has him feeling slightly ashamed. Especially since he’s been able to think clearly and found someone that he could trust completely and let his guard down around; forming that bond and actually committing. Gaining a sense of security and comfort that meant he fully enjoy sex. No longer using it to escape from his miserable existence, but as a way to show someone how much he loves him and worships them, and feel those things in return.

Normally he’s in complete control; his mind fully focused on the things he is feeling and what his body is doing. Able to assert dominance and use his size and strength to his advantage; able to walk that thin line between pleasure and pain, never fully crossing it. Able to stop himself if he feels as if things are getting too out of hand; not having to wait for words of protest or refusals, knowing when he’s gone too far and his control is slipping. But sometimes it takes him by surprise; just how brutal and merciless he can be. As if all the tension and stress and built up adrenaline from years on the job come flowing out at once and he’s powerless to stop it. He’s only crossed that line twice. Once in Dhaka and a few days ago; when he’d initially ignored her pleas to stop and the way she attempted to push him away. And it had torn him apart inside when it became painfully clear that he’d gone too far. It wasn’t a mix of pleasure and pain in her eyes. It was just pain. And fear.

It had made him physically ill; realizing how capable he was -if his brain and common sense abandoned him -of actually hurting her. The regret had been fierce and immediate; spending the next four days feeling like complete and utter shit about it. She’d forgiven him; it wasn’t intentional and he’d shown both guilt and remorse afterwards. And after that he’d reluctant to fully letting himself go; even with her plea of ‘faster’, ‘harder’, and the way she’d urge him on by pulling his hair and biting his shoulders and raking her nails down his back and along his ribs.

He hadn’t been able to to stop himself today. Not even waiting for her to ask or beg or plead; taking her from behind with a rough, almost primal and animalistic need. Yanking her hair and biting the side of her neck and her shoulders, hand reaching around to wrap around her throat; enough pressure to cause discomfort yet leave no marks or bruises. His voice low and rumbling deep within his chest as vile and degrading things poured from his mouth. It’s a game; how close can you get to crossing the line? But she’d gone along with it. Never refusing or telling him to stop, giving back just as good as she received. And it always surprises him; just how much punishment that small, slight body can take.

He feels like shit. It had been far more aggressive and intense than he’d originally planned. It’s the dream; the sight of Asif manhandling her and kissing her and her reciprocating. Completely illogical. That never would have happened. But his fucked up brain has managed to view it as some kind of threat; as if a dead man -so evil and corrupt- can somehow steal her away. He hasn’t been able to get it out of his mind; thinking of it right before he’d fucked her. The image of her and Asif together causing him to snap and all the rage and disgust igniting something so dark and primal inside of him.

Now he feels like an asshole as they lay in the middle of their bed; caught up in a mess of tangled and damp sheets and sweaty limbs. One of her arms draped loosely over his stomach and her head resting on his chest as his fingers gently comb through her hair. And he can feel her soft, warm breath against his skin and the way her fingertips trace the outline of the tattoo that graces his right rib cage. He has no idea what to say. Does he apologize? Ask if she’s okay? She’d been right into it; encouraging him to continue, wanting him deeper and begging for ‘harder and faster’.

Yet he still feels like a dick. Knowing that in a day or two he’ll see the bruises on her hips and the insides of her thigh, that the bite marks -in places that can be easily hidden- will be noticeable. He hates the loss of control more than anything. The fear that he wouldn’t have been able to stop.

His eyes flicker open as he feels her moving against him; lifting the side of her head from his chest and placing her chin upon it, her hand sliding over his ribs and up onto his shoulder. And he smiles; tangling his fingers in her hair as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“You okay?” Esme asks, fingers now moving to the roman numeral tattoo just below his shoulder. “You’re quiet.”

“Aren’t I always quiet afterwards? You’re usually the chatty one.”

“You’re usually not THIS quiet. Are you sure everything went okay? At Koen’s?”

“What could have possibly went wrong? He agreed to come on board, my guy showed up with all the things we needed. Everything went nice and smooth.”

“You mean aside from Nik calling.”

“Yeah…” he sighs, and his hand slips free from her hair and slides down; knuckles skimming against her spine before his palm settles at the small of her back. “...aside from that.”

“What would she possibly say that would piss me off THAT bad? I’ve pretty much heard it all in the past seven years. I’ve seen the text messages and the pictures she’s sent you and I already know that she would show up wherever you were staying while on a job. It’s not like you didn’t tell me those things and hid them from me.”

As hard as it had been to be THAT honest and open about Nik and her incessant -yet fruitless- pursuits, the best thing he ever did was NOT hiding those things from his wife. Because if she’d found out any other way, it would have come back to bite him and ass and he would have been guilty by default.

“Unless you haven’t told me everything,” she says.

“I have. There’s nothing you don’t know.””

“What about those six months? When we weren’t together?”

“What about them?”

“Did anything happen then? Between you and her?”

Tyler scowls. “I’m not a cheater.”

“We were split up.”

“We were STILL married. And I was still hopeful. When I wasn’t drunk off my ass, that is.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. If something DID happen. You were pissed off and in a bad place and you probably hated me.”

“Okay, first off, I didn’t hate you. I could never hate you. And it was my own goddamn fault we split up to begin with. I wasn’t pissed off with you. I was pissed off with myself. With the whole fucking world. But I never slept with Nik in those six months. I never slept with ANYONE else. I didn’t want to. I only wanted you. Why do you think I tried so hard to get some every time I came over?”

“I shouldn’t have caved in so easily,” she laments. “I should have made you work harder.”

“What are you talking about? You practically made me grovel at your feet. And then you’d kick my ass out first thing in the morning.”

“Well I wasn’t totally done being mad at you, but at the same time I had needs and only you could fill them…” she presses a kiss to the scar near his left shoulder. “...and there was no one else. If that’s what you’re thinking or you were going to ask.”

“Ever? In the whole six months?”

“I may have been hurt and pissed off and frustrated with you, but I still loved you. I didn’t want anyone else and I haven’t wanted anyone else in seven years. And I trust you. About Nik. If you say nothing happened…”

“Nothing did happen.”

“...then I’m obviously going to believe you over her. So if that’s what her plan is...if that’s what she’s going to come at me with...there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll just take it from the source.” 

She places a kiss on the bridge of his nose, followed by the scar near his left eyes, then the one on his forehead. They’ve never bothered her; she’s often teased him about how they add the ‘perfect amount of extra sexiness’. What he sees as flaws, she sees as beautiful. Souvenirs of long and often hard and dangerous life. And she pecks his lips before slipping out of bed; his hand sliding off her back and over the swell of her ass. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she inquires, as she slips into her shorts. 

“I won’t be if you keep asking me that,” he replies, and then watches her as she dresses; her smooth skin and toned limbs, the curves of her hips and the fullness of her breasts and ass. She’s had five kids…his kids…and yet looks even more incredible than she did when they first met. Heavier and softer, yet every inch no less amazing. He doesn’t see the issues she often complains about; the ten extra pounds and the stretch marks. None of that matters to him. All he sees is perfection.

“I worry,” she says. “It’s what I do. You think you’d be used to it after so long.”

“You don’t need to worry. Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Is it something to do with the dream you had?”

“I just told you…”

“I know what you told me. It’s what you’re NOT telling me. You think I don’t know when you’re hiding something from me? We’ve been together for almost seven years. Married for six and a half…”

“Six years and eight months. Give or take a few days.”

“...and you should know by now that I always know when something is up. So…” she climbs back onto the bed, now fully clothed, and straddles him; a knee on either side of his torso as she sits on his stomach. “...what the hell is going on? And don’t you dare say nothing.”

“Nothing.”

Her eyes narrow.

“I just have shit on my mind.”

“What kind of shit?”

“The kind of shit you don’t need to know about.”

She scowls. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

Sighing, he lays his hands on her thighs; running calloused palms along smooth skin and over the cheeks of her ass and up onto her hips. “Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“Why do you have to give me such a hard time?”

“Because…” her hands slide across his shoulders and down his chest, drifting over his abs and then moving back up again; fingers curling around the chain around his neck. “...I love you and I worry about you and I know that something is bothering you. And I hate that you constantly hold all this inside when you know you don’t have to. You don’t have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’m more than capable of helping you.”

“I know you are. But you shouldn’t have to.”

“We are in this life together, not separate,” she reminds him. “The second that ring went on your finger, we became a team. And that means we tell each other things; no matter how hard or how painful. So stop your shit. Please. You’re exhausting me.”

“Come here,” he says, and reaches up to place a hand on the back of her head, pulling her down into a long, soft kiss before she settles against him; chest pressed against his, face buried between his neck and shoulder. And his hands slide up her shirt; fingertips brushing and swirling against her back. 

****

“I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” her voice is muffled against the side of his neck, lips pressed to the scar that resides there. 

“About Dhaka.” He feels her body tense against his. “About the night at Gaspar’s house.”

Esme sits up, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as she looks down at him. “Alright.”

“I lied to you. About the deal. The one he made with Asif. About Ovi.”

“About him having a ten million dollar price tag on his head.”

“I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Ovi wasn’t the only one that Gaspar made a deal for. Or wanted me to hand over. The ten million was for you too. The kid and the girl. His exact words. I wasn’t just trying to save Ovi. I was trying to save you, too.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Asif wanted Ovi dead and you alive. That’s what Gaspar promised him. That he'd deliver the kid’s body and he’d deliver you alive. Like a gift. For Asif. An offering. So I could get rich and get my freedom.”

It's painful to say it out loud. For nearly seven years he’s kept it bottled up inside; carrying it around like some deep, dark secret that should never see the light of day. Fully believing that it was better if she didn’t know. What good would it do? Knowing you were being offered up as a sacrificial lamb...a plaything...to a guy like Asif? Why did they both need to carry that around?

“Both of us?” she asks, and he can see the tears welling in her eyes. “It was for both of us?”

“I couldn't go through with it. I couldn’t do that to either of you. But if I’m being honest...totally honest...it was more because of you than the kid. I knew what Asif would do to you. As soon as Gaspar said he wanted you alive, I knew what was going to happen. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want him doing that to you.”

“He wanted you to give up both of us?”

“It was fucked. He was fucked. That fact he’d agree to it and go along with it. The fact that he and Asif were friends. That he’d actually do work for that guy. The fact I trusted him and he turned around and betrayed me like that.”

“Do you think she knew? Nik? That Gaspar was buddies with Asif? Is that why she didn’t want to call him? Do you think that’s why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she thought something was up. And if I hadn't pushed her about it…”

“Okay...no...stop that. Second guessing something you did seven years ago does nothing. He was your friend. You trusted him. You didn't have a reason not to. It’s not your fault; what went down that night. It’s nowhere near your fault.”

“But if we hadn’t gone there, Ovi never would have had to kill him and...”

“No,” she forcibly repeats, and lays a hand over his mouth. “Don’t do that. It solves nothing. It happened. We can’t change it. We can’t go back and make different decisions. It is what it is, Tyler. We all have things we have to live with now. Crosses we have to bear. You’re not alone in that.”

He mumbles something against her palm, and she reluctantly removes it. “I should have told you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It was bad enough having that in my mind. I didn’t want it fucking you up too.”

“The whole experience screwed me up. It wouldn’t have made it any worse, trust me. He made it pretty clear how he felt about me when I talked to him. He said that I was slowing you down and making things even harder for you. That I was just a waste of energy and time.”

Tyler frowns. “You never told me about that. That you talked to him. That he said shit like that.”

“He was your friend. You trusted him. And you’d known him a lot longer than you’d known me for. I figured if you were going to believe anyone, it was going to be him. Not some slut who’d been sucking your dick for five days.”

He scowls. “Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s what it was. I wasn’t anything more than that to you. We were fucking. That’s it.”

“You were way more than that. If we’d just been fucking, I would have just kept my mouth shut and walked away when Dhaka was over.”

“I bet you sometimes wish you’d gotten that chance,” she scoffs, and attempts to climb off of him. Only to have him grab her by the hips and toss her down onto her back; covering her body with his hands, bearing his weight on outstretched arms.

“I never once wished that. Ever.”

“Did you consider it?” she asks.

“What?”

“Even for a split second? Did you think about it? The deal?”

His eyes narrow. “You think THAT little of me?”

“There was nothing between us then. Not like there is now. If he’d told you that it was the only way to save yourself, would you have done it? Given me up to Asif??”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? What kind of question is that?”

“A pretty sound one.”

“Do you know what he would have done to you? He would have kept you. For days. Weeks. Even months. He would have used you for all sorts of sick and twisted shit until you were begging him to kill you. And you ask me if I considered it? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“It’s a lot of money,” she reasons. “Five million dollars.”

“You’re worth more than that to me. Even then you were. How can you even ask me that? What kind of person do you think I am that I’d ever consider doing that?”

“Even if he’d told you that you’d live. That it would be the only way you’d get out of there?”

“I would have told him to go fuck himself. That I wasn’t doing it. It was never going to happen. And the fact that you think I’d do that…”

“First off…” she wraps her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back, preventing him from escaping. “...I didn’t say you would do it. Or even that you thought about it. You told me that the deal was and I asked what any logical person would ask.”

“There’s nothing logical about that question.”

“Do I think you’d consider it now? No. I don’t. Back then we barely knew each other and…”

“We knew each other well enough, don’t you think? You let me fuck you up the a…”

“Fucking. That’s exactly what it was. We barely knew each other. So it’s extremely logical to think you might have considered it. If you were guaranteed your freedom. And money. Lots of money.”

“I wasn’t giving you to Asif. I never even considered it. That’s fucked up and it takes a fucked up person to do something like that. I had my issues, but I wasn’t like that. I never would have done it. No matter what he offered me. I would have rather died than give you to him. And to hear that you actually think I’d consider it?”

“I never said that. I never THOUGHT that. I just asked. That’s all. Calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. You basically just accused me of being a guy who would sell to a rapist. Like what the hell?”

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion. I never said…”

“You know what? I don’t want to have this conversation anymore. I didn’t tell you about this so we could fight about it. I told you so I could get it off my chest. Because it’s been eating away at me for seven goddamn years. I didn’t tell you so you could turn around and accuse me of being the kind of sick fuck that would do something like that.”

“Tyler, stop. You’re overreacting. Just calm down.”

“Let go of me,” his eyes are cold and dark. Threatening. His jaw tightly set, the vein in his neck...the one that had to be repaired after Farhad blew it up..throbbing. “Let go.”

“Tyler..stop…”

“I said let go!” He snarls and then reaches around to yank her ankles apart; fingers digging into the flesh, hitting bone. “I gotta go,” his breath leaves his ling in large, audible breaths. “I told the kids I’d pick them up.”

“We’re actually fighting about this? Are you serious?”

“Not anymore, we’re not. I shouldn’t have told you. I kept it secret for seven years. I should have kept it for seven more. Or seventeen. Or seventy.”

“No one lives to be a hundred and eleven.”

He glares at her, then begins yanking clothes on.

“I didn’t mean it the way you think I did,” she attempts to explain. “I didn’t say you were the type of person who would do that.”

“You asked me if I considered it. Is that not saying I’m the type of person who would?”

“It was just a question. I wasn’t saying it or insinuating it. Why? Do you have a guilty conscience?”

“Stop,” he orders. “Before you say something that makes this even worse.”

“Why can’t you answer the question?”

“Because the answer should be fucking obvious to you! I would never...ever...do something like that. Whether I got paid or not. That would make me just like guys like Asif and I’m nothing like them.”

“No. You’re not,” she agrees, and jumps off the bed, stepping in front of him before he reaches the door. “You’re nothing like him. You’re nothing like any of them. And I never meant to insinuate that you are. I didn’t mean it the way you think I did. It was a simple question. That’s it. I never meant anything by it.”

“You asked me if I considered giving you up to a guy that would have tortured you and raped you.”

“Okay, you’re right. I can see why you’d take it that way. But…”

“What other way is there to take it? You specifically asked me if I would have given you up to a drug lord for money. There’s no other way to take that. You obviously think I would consider if you’d ask that.”

“Tyler, you’re taking this way too personally.”

“How can I not?! You’re my wife!”

“But I wasn’t then,” she reminds him “I was nothing to you. I was just some girl you were fucking. That’s it. If you look at it THAT way…”

“I wasn’t giving you up to Asif. Whether I’d known you for five days, five months, five years, fifty years. I wasn’t fucking doing it. And it makes me sick that you think I would.”

“All I asked…”

“I know what you asked. And it’s fucked if that’s how you actually see me.”

“That is not how I see you and you know it! But if you’d been desperate enough…”

“I was desperate!” he angrily informs her. “You think I wanted to be in that shitty mess? I wanted out of there just as much as you did. And I got the chance when Gaspar told me about the deal and I still didn’t take it. I busted my ass to get you out of there!”

“I know. I know you did. Calm down,” she pleads, placing her hands on his chest. “Please just calm down.”

“I almost died for you. And you ask me if I would have given you up? I was ready to die that day. For you. For that kid. Isn’t that your fucking answer right there?”

“Yes. It is. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way you took it. I never thought that of you. I would never…ever...think that. I knew you were willing to give everything up for us. For me.”

He sighs heavily. “I gotta go.”

“Tyler, listen to me. Please…” she once more steps in front of him, blocking his way out the door. “...just listen to me.”

“I’m going to be late. I gotta pick up the kids. I told them I’d be there. You remember them , right? Our kids?”

“Don’t be a dick,” she hisses. “I know you’re upset and you’re hurt but don’t be like that.”

“Just move.”

She remains steadfast. “Not until you listen to me.”

“I did listen to you. And now I’m done listening to you. Move. Because I will move you. You know I will.”

“Fine,” she relents, and steps out of his way. “I’m sorry. I never meant it the way you think I did. I don’t see you that way and I’ve never seen you that way.”

“I’ll be back,” he promises, then takes two steps into the hall before turning back and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too. And I’m sorry. I never meant…”

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he says, and places a kiss to the corner of her mouth before walking away.


	35. Chapter 35

“Did you consider it? Even for a split second?” 

He can’t get those words out of his head; playing on a continuous loop. Eating away at him and burrowing into every inch of his already fractured and troubled mind. It’s the insinuation behind them that hurts more than anything; the fact she’d even think that he’d be capable of something like that, as if it somehow made a difference that they’d only known one another for five days. She wasn’t a stranger; they’d been sharing a bed, exploring each other's bodies and both enjoying and pleasing one another as much as possible. They’d been each other’s confessionals as well; sharing those deep, dark and -and sometimes shameful- secrets that they’d kept buried for years and never told a single living soul. It was the first time he’d felt THAT comfortable with someone; able to easily and effortlessly let his guard down and show her the different sides to him. Not just the hardened mercenary covered in scars and tattoos; the one with a drinking problem and an addiction to pain meds, weighed down by a lifetime of baggage. He’d found himself smiling and laughing again; genuine, not the forced smiles and laugh that he’d perfect over the past thirty-five years of his life. 

By the middle of the third day he’d realize that maybe it was more than just two lonely and broken people drawn to each other through similar painful circumstances and a job they used as an escape from their shitty realities. He liked having her around. Not just in those early morning hours when he’d wake up to that soft, warm body next to him in bed. But when he’d look at her from across the room as she sat at the table by the window; both feet up on her seat and knees tucked tightly to her chest, headphones on and eyes narrowed in concentration as she worked on her laptop. Or when he’d come back to the room after grabbing food at the market and she’d greet him with that brilliant, beautiful smile that made her eyes sparkle. He just liked her being there; hearing her voice and seeing her face and breathing in the soft, sweet scent that lingered in her hair. Most importantly, he didn’t feel judged; she didn’t look at him with disgust or pity. She understood his job and the brutality and violence that came with it; she knew what he was capable of and the lives he’s taken over the years. None of that had bothered her. She ‘got it’. In a way no one else ever had. 

It had been his side to see if there was more to it...more to THEM. Suddenly feeling as if there was actually something to forward to after Dhaka; something...someone...who could keep him going even during the most difficult and darkest of days. Sure, the sex was good. It was incredible, in fact. But to find someone that understood your life and didn’t hold it against you or judge you for your past mistakes and horrible decisions? That was even better. They’d take some of the money from the Dhaka job and travel; wherever they felt like going or wherever they just ended up. And she’d spent time in Australia; willing to travel to The Kimberley and stay in that rundown little shack. And he’d head to Colorado; looking forward to seeing the mountains and just spending time with her. Seeing just...if anything...actually existed between them. 

Only things hadn’t gone according to plan. Everything went to shit, and their entire existences changed. The path becoming much more difficult to tread than either of them could have possibly imagined. 

She’d always trusted him. Right from the start. Without question or reservation. And she’d always told him that he made her feel safe. Protected. During both those early days and the seven years that followed. She’d confused that she’d never felt that way before; not even with the other men that had been in her life. Always relying on herself; her own wits and her own skills and her fierce independence. She hadn’t realized how much she’d actually wanted that; the feeling of security and, being able to trust someone to that extent, going to bed at night not only knowing that someone would do anything to protect her, but that they were more than capable of doing it. That steadfast faith and confidence in him sometimes the only things that kept him going; knowing that she trusted him and loved him THAT much. Even on the days when he hated himself and wondered if she -and even his kids when they came along- would be much better off without him and his bullshit dragging them down. She would tell him how ridiculous it was to think that way. That she couldn’t imagine her life without him. That she didn’t just want him there, she NEEDED him there. No matter how hard he made things on her, no matter how difficult he could be to love. It was the one constant that kept him alive sometimes; knowing that -beyond a shadow of a doubt- she truly felt that way. 

So to hear her ask that -if he’d ever considered giving her up to Asif- had torn him apart inside. He can’t remember anything hurting that much; cutting straight to his core. No physical pain -not even the wounds he’d sustained in Dhaka- inflicting that much damage and agony. It killed him inside; wondering if he’d ever given her a reason to think he’d do something like that. That she doubted he would have done anything -even back then- to keep her safe. Alive. There’d never been a moment where it had seemed like a good idea, her life in exchange for his freedom. For money. And it makes him physical ill knowing she’d ever looked at him that way. That maybe she STILL does. 

He forces himself to get his shit together; head down and sunglasses over his as he takes the path to the back of the kids’ school. Leaves and twigs and gravel snapping and popping beneath the soles of his flip flops. It’s not often that they pick the kids up; normally the last Friday of the month was the usual. A routine that they’d gotten into; grabbing the three oldest and driving into one of the other towns on the coast and spending time on their beaches and then going out to dinner. Returning after long after sunset and having to carry exhausted yet happy children into the house and upstairs to bed. Even in the later stages of the pregnancy with Addie they’d tried to hold onto that habit; family time away from the house and the chaos that sometimes ran amok within those four walls. Little moments and memories that their kids would hopefully hold onto it and look back on forty years down the road. 

Going home had been the smartest thing he’d ever done. Not just for himself, but for them. Things calmer and less stressful. The arguing less frequent and much less intense. Before if had been constant; lingering frustration and hostility that lingered under the surface and would build up to the point of exploding. Since leaving Colorado things have improved. Tremendously. 

Until she’d asked if he’d ever give her up a drug lord, that is. 

**** 

The other parents are too chatty. Too nosy. The moms don’t hide the fact they’re checking him out; huddling together in little groups, nudging each other with their elbows, the sly little smiles that tug at the corners of their mouths, the whispers that follow. It’s flattering yet annoying as hell at the same time. The dads are another story; they stare and talk but try and hide it. The women will actually approach. The men will stay their distance. They don’t see the muscles and the tattoos and the scars the same way the ladies too; they see them as intimidating. Threatening, even. A guy with six inches and sixty pounds -if not more- on them, wandering into their ‘territory’ and taking all the attention away. He’s pretty sure his ‘resting asshole face’ -as Esme calls it- doesn’t help; he doesn’t want to be bothered and he doesn’t try to hide the fact. Maybe the guys see it as arrogance; him appearing overly confident and all the women taking notice. Suddenly they’re interested in the dad in the jeans and the ratty t-shirt and not on the ones with starchy golf shirts and the ironed pleats in their khakis. He sticks out like a sore thumb and likes it that way. He’s somewhat of a mystery to them; showing up out of the blue six months old with those haunted eyes and the stern face and all the battle wounds that bear evidence of a story to tell. One they’ll never be privy to but will always speculate about. 

He plays it for all it’s worth. In his own subtle way. The longer he gives off the intimidating vibe, the longer people stay away from him. He’s not there to make friends. He has enough of those. He prefers his privacy; not allowing anyone outside of his immediate family -and a trusted few- past the walls he’s built up. It’s all way too fucking complicated; his past, what he did for a living, what he’s getting back into. And letting people in means letting them know ALL of that. And that’s something he wants to avoid. At all costs. 

“Your Tyler’s dad.” 

At first it doesn’t even register that someone is actually speaking to him. Lost in his own little world as she leans against the brick wall the door the kids will come out; one hand shoved in his pocket, the older holding his phone. Attention focused solely on the text messages that his wife has sent since he left the house. Apologetic. Remorseful. The regret obvious in every word she’s typed. He’s not angry; not at her. It’s hurt. Genuine hurt that sits in the pit of his stomach and makes his chest ache. Maybe Gaspar HAD been right; maybe she is his ultimate weakness. And he sends his own text back. Telling her that he loves her and they’ll talk later. TALK. Not fight. Then turns his attention to the man now standing beside him. A few inches shorter; slim, with tousled and unruly salt and pepper hair and dark skin. Aboriginal; he can see the dark and intricate tribal tattoos that travel up both arms and stop at the sides of his neck. 

Tyler grins. “Before I lay claim to him, it depends what he’s done.” 

“He’s friends with my boy. Ezekiel. He’s one of the few kids that are. He’s got some issues. My boy. He’s not like everyone else. And the people around here...between you and me...they don’t like anyone that looks different. Or acts different. They’re…” 

“Judgmental pricks?” Tyler finishes for him. 

The other man laughs. “I’m glad one of us has the stones to say it out loud. “ 

“My wife always tells me I’m imagining it. That it’s all in my head.” 

“Mine says the same. Now I can go home and tell her that I’m not making it up and someone else feels the same way. Your boy, he’s a good kid. He’s got a huge heart inside of him. I’ve heard the stories. The way other parents talk. Saying he’s a troublemaker and has behavior issues and all that shit. He’s just a kid, you know? He’s got a lot of feelings and emotions going in there. He always sticks up for my boy. Always. Never backs down no matter how big the other kids are or how many of them come at him.” 

“He’s fearless. And stubborn as hell.” 

“Well, I for one appreciate it. Kids like mine...like my Zeke...they have a hard enough life without assholes making it worse. So when kids like yours come around, parents like me take notice. And we wish there were more like him and parents who would raise them like you and your wife are. World would be a better place for Zeke if kids were brought up like that. I just wanted to say thanks. For raising such a good kid.” 

Tyler doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good at accepting compliments; ‘thank you’ always seems so self-serving and fake. And it’s better to say nothing than come across as either socially awkward or a complete prick. So he gives an appreciative smile instead; and the other dad returns the gesture with a smile of his own and a friendly pat on the shoulder before wandering off the stand on his own. He sees the way the other parents look at the man; the color of his skin and the wild hair and the tribal tattoos. Australia has a long and sordid history of treating their aboriginals like shit, and even in this day and age the ignorance and racism continue. And he shoves his phone into his pocket and heads over, sidling up beside the other dad, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“What grade is your kid in?” he asks. It sounds lame, but you have to start somewhere. 

“He’s in special education. He has cerebral palsy. From a stroke at birth. He can speak, but he’s in a chair permanently. Has seizures and some other problems.” 

“That’s gotta be rough.” He doesn’t want to say ‘sorry’; that will come across as pity. Give the impression that he thinks something is wrong and shameful with having a kid with issues. It is what it is. And every child, with disabilities or not, deserves respect. Not pity. At least in his eyes. 

“Thanks for not saying ‘I’m sorry’. I hate when people say that. What’s there to be sorry for? He’s a beautiful kid. He’s happy. He loves and is loved. I wish we could all see the world through his eyes. He doesn’t judge or hate. He just loves. You have other kids, yeah?” 

“Four other ones. Two boys, two girls. Millie’s the oldest. She’s going to be six in a week and a bit. Addie’s the baby; not even a month yet. The one before her, Declan, the doctors thought maybe there was something going on with him. They saw some things when my wife was pregnant with him; at the twenty-week ultrasound. Chromosome issues.” 

“Downs?” 

Tyler nods. “They wanted us to let them do more testing. To find out for sure. So we could ‘discuss the options’. They actually said that. There were no other options. Not to us. We didn’t need to know. We were going to have him regardless. Didn’t matter one way or the other. It was our kid.” 

“And everything came out okay?” 

“Well, he’s a ginger and can be a little asshole sometimes, but yeah…” he grins. “...it turned out to be nothing. Like I said, we wouldn’t have cared. It’s our kid, right? Obviously they’re meant to be here. Regardless if there’s something going on or not.” 

“Shame some people don’t think like we do. They see kids like them as a burden. Say they’re never going to be ‘contributing members of society’.” 

“Yeah, well people like that can go fuck themselves.” 

The other man laughs, then holds out a hand. “I’m Anatjari. Everyone just calls me Andy.” 

“Tyler,” he shakes the hand that’s offered. “Anatjari. That’s from Pintupi, right?” 

“Not many people know that.” 

“A mate of mine, his mum comes from the tribe. He speaks a little bit of it. Enough to get by, I guess. Your wife aboriginal too?” 

“As white as the driven snot.” Andy laughs. “She was an exchange teacher. From New York City. We met and she never went back. Your wife from here?” 

“Colorado.” 

“From the mountains and the snow to this? That’s culture shock. How’d a guy from here meet a girl from there?” 

“Work. We got contracted out to the same job.” 

“Zeke says your boy told him that you used to fight bad people.” 

Tyler gives a small laugh. “I guess that’s kind of true. The field I was in, sometimes I HAD to do that. I’d get sent places to sort out other peoples’ messes. Private security, I guess you could call it. 

“Well you’re definitely made for that kind of shit. Doesn’t it bother you? That?” Andy nods in the direction of the group of moms huddled together, staring and whispering. 

“A little. They’re harmless though. My wife would kill them if they ever tried anything. She’s small but she’s tough. Definitely puts the fear of God into me sometimes. As much as it embarrasses me to admit that.” 

“Your secret is safe with me. It’s the same at my house. You know…” he scuffs the toe of his runner against the concrete. “...you didn’t have to do this. Come over and talk to me. I’m used to being the black sheep.” 

“I know. And I didn’t do it because I felt I needed to. I wanted to. I don’t make friends easily either. The wife says I give off bad vibe. That I scare people. Something about the look on my face and my size. Makes me intimidating, apparently. 

“I don’t know,” Andy shrugs. “You seem pretty harmless to me.” 

Tyler chuckles. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that.” 

He’s been called many things over the years. Brutal. Violent. Aggressive. Even merciless and savage. 

But never THAT. 

**** 

“Daddy!” Millie is the first to greet him, sandals already in her hands as she races toward him in her bare feet; ponytail swinging wildly from side to side. And he scoops her up as she throws herself at his legs, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then settling them on his hip. “I missed you!” 

“I was only gone one day.” 

“Doesn’t matter. I still missed you. Look…” she gives a wide smile and points to the gap in her bottom teeth. “It finally fell out! At lunch. I went to eat my apple and it just popped out!” 

“Didn’t swallow it, did you? Don’t want a whole bunch of teeth growing in your tummy.” 

“That’s not what would happen!” she says, and then giggles when he tickles her stomach. “I put it in my pocket. So I can put it under my pillow tonight. I was worried you wouldn’t be there. That maybe you had to stay away longer.” 

“I said I’d be here and I’m here. Have a good day? Punch anyone in the face?” 

“Nope. No one tried to dull my sparkle today. It was an awesome day,” she enthuses, as he sets her on the ground. “Hi Zeke’s daddy,” she chirps to the man standing beside him. 

“You already know each other?” Tyler asks. 

“Everyone knows Zeke’s daddy. He’s awesome. He comes sometimes and teaches us art and tells us really cool stories about his people. And Zeke is awesome too. He’s so cute and so sweet and gives the best hugs.” 

Andy gives a sheepish smile. “I think he might have a bit of a crush on her.” 

“He’s so cute!” Millie gushes. “He’s coming to my birthday party. He loves to swim, right Zeke’s daddy?” 

“He does,” Andy confirms. “And he’s very excited. He’s never been invited to a birthday party before.” 

“Other kids are such dicks,” she declares. “Mommy and daddy said that we’re all the same and we should love each other no matter what we look like or what we can or can’t do. That’s the stuff that makes us different and unique and not boring. No one wants to be boring.” 

“You are definitely NOT boring,” Tyler tells her, as he fixes her hair clips and tightens her ponytail. “No one can ever say that about you, that’s for sure.” 

“That’s Zeke right there!” She excitedly announces, and points to where her brothers are coming across the school yard; one on either side of their friend as he’s being pushed in his wheelchair by a one on one aide. 

At first it makes Tyler feel sad; a hint of pity that nearly brings tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat. Pissed off at a fucked up world that would do something like that to an innocent kid. But he notices the brilliant smile and the look of pure adoration and love in his eyes as he looks at one boy, and then the other. The way the twins hold his hands and laugh and talk to him as if he’s just like any other kid on the playground. 

“Daddy!” Tanner breaks away first, tossing himself into his father’s waiting arms. “You’re here! I know you’d be here. I missed you!” 

“I missed you too, mate.” He lays a hand on the side of Tanner’s head and presses a kiss to his temple. “I said I’d be here. I wasn’t going to let you guys down. I’ll never do that. Not anymore.” 

“Hi daddy!” TJ greets. “This is Zeke. He’s my best friend. Other than Tanner. Zeke, this is my dad. Remember how I told you that used to beat up bad guys? He’s crazy big and crazy strong but I promise he’s not mean. Not unless you’re a bad guy. And you are definitely not a bad guy.” 

Tyler gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Okay, no one needs to hear that. About me beating up bad guys. You ready to go? We gotta go and get something for mommy. A surprise.” 

Millie frowns. “Did you do something wrong?” 

“I can’t buy your mom something just because? Maybe I just love and want to buy her things. Ever thought of that?” 

His daughter scoffs. “That’s not how you work.” 

“Well maybe I’m changing how I work. Don’t be such a smart ass.” 

“You helped make me. I’m half you. Where do you think I get it from? Blame yourself.” 

Tyler smirks, then turns to Andy. “Almost six going on sixteen. I’m dreading actual teenage years with this one. You guys wanna come with? We’re just going into town. Grab some ice cream. You’re more than welcome to tag along.” 

“Yes! Please?! Millie grabs a hold of the other man’s arm. “Please Zeke’s daddy? It’ll be fun. And Zeke will love hanging out with us outside of school.” 

“I warn you,” Tyler says, as he slings their three backpacks over his shoulders. “They’re a little feral. I blame my wife. Just don’t tell her I said that. She has a different take on who made them that way.” 

“Ice cream sounds good,” he enthuses. “Be nice to have another dad to talk to. One that isn’t...I don't know…” 

“A total prick?” 

“That’s pretty much what I had in mind.” 

“Wait until you get to know me, mate. I’m not as harmless as I seem.” 

**** 

“Daddy made a friend!” Millie announces two hours later, as she bursts onto the back patio, already clad in one of her many bathing suits and a Strawberry Shortcake towel hanging off her head. And she stands beside the chair her mother sides on as she nurses the baby, pressing a kiss to Esme’s lips in greeting. 

“A friend, huh?” She gives Tyler a wink as he lingers in the doorway, waiting for the twins to rush past him before stepping outside. And they each give her a kiss before rushing off with their sister; racing towards where Ovi sits with Declan in the surf. “An imaginary one or…?” 

He smirks. “Now I know where your daughter gets being a smart ass from.” 

“It’s definitely not from me,” she says, and he stands behind her chair, giving the nape of her neck a gentle squeeze before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “So real? Fake? Who’s this friend?” 

“A real one. And he’s not a friend. Just some guy that started talking to me while I was waiting for the kids.” 

“You know it’s okay to have friends, right? Not everyone is out to get you, Tyler. Don’t you think it would be nice to have someone to talk to you?” 

“I have you talk to you.” 

“Who do you talk to when you’re pissed off and you need to vent about me?” 

“Myself mainly,” he says, grimacing as he lowers himself into the chair across from her. 

“Because THAT’S totally healthy.” 

“You don’t piss me off enough to make me bitch to other people about you.” 

She arches a brow. “Not even today?” 

“We’re not going to talk about this right now, are we? I really do not want to talk about this.” 

“When is there a better time?” 

“I dunno. When the kids go to bed. When we actually can pay attention to what the other one is saying. And I don’t want to fight. I’m just putting that out there now. We’re supposed to be working on getting past shit like that; fighting all the time. And I thought we were doing pretty good.” 

“We have been. Things have a lot better since we moved here. In New Zealand, for that matter. We’re more relaxed and less stressed and we don’t have people sticking their noses in our business all the time. One fight is not the end of the world. We used to fight about everything. Even stupid, small shit.” 

“Yeah…” he stretches his right leg out, attempting to ignore the pain in the knees as he places his foot in her lap. “...I don’t miss those days.” 

“I don’t know. The making up was always fun,” she teases, and he grins. “I think Declan’s here because of a fight, actually. Millie might be too, but we can’t say for sure which of the five days it happened on. If it was the first day…” 

“That wasn’t a fight.” 

“Bullshit it wasn’t.” 

“That was you not listening to a goddamn word I say and doing what you want.” 

“Okay for the record, I didn’t listen because I thought your rules your stupid and no man was going to tell me what to do no matter how hot he was. Second, that was a fight. You were doing all the yelling, but that was definitely a fight.” 

“You and I remember that day very differently.” 

“I think you have selective memory. Because you were pissed, and you were losing your shit. Which makes it a fight.” 

“Isn’t a fight two sided?” 

“You grabbed me by the throat.” 

“You liked it.” 

She smirks. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But that was definitely a fight and it’s very likely that that’s when Millie was conceived. And if it was, then your swimmers are very lucky and very determined. That’s all I’m going to say.” 

“I am telling you. Super sperm. I know you don’t believe me, but I think that’s proof right there. First day, first time. Boom. Got shit done.” 

“You are so romantic,” she chides. 

“There was nothing romantic about those five days.” 

“No,” she laughs. “There wasn’t. But it was hot though. Crazy hot.” 

He nods in agreement, then leans his head back against his chair; eyes closed, hands clasped and resting on his stomach. 

“I didn’t mean it,” she says, as moves Addie up onto her chest, one hand on the back of her head, the other rubbing her back. “I especially I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I wasn’t trying to make it sound like you would do something like that. I...” 

“Stop, okay? Not right now. Later.” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just...” 

“Baby...” he cracks his eyes open and gives her a tight-lipped smile. “...not now, okay? Please.” 

“Okay,” she agrees with a sigh, and then looks out towards the water; watching as the three oldest kids take turns on who gets to be the one Ovi hurls into the water. “Chloe left,” she announces. 

“What? When?” 

“This morning. I guess they got into a big fight last night. About the job. She’s mad that he cut ties with Nik. I guess she was getting really tight with her.” 

“Oh, for fuck sakes. That’s what pissed her off? How old is she again?” 

“I told her that Nik is not the person you want to get close to. That she’ll fuck you over the first chance she gets. She spent seven years trying to do it to me. Ovi tried explaining how things are better this way; you running the business and him working for you. I don’t think she realizes just what that world is like. She’s got some romanticized view of it. Like it’s some exciting, amazing life where the good guys always win and survive. I told her that I’ve seen a lot of good people die. G, Saju. Just for starters.” 

Tyler nods in agreement. 

“And you. Well, almost you.” 

“I wasn’t a good person. Not then. I don’t even know if I am now.” 

She frowns. “Don’t do that, okay? You’re not the horrible person you think you are. You made some shitty decision and you had to do some bad things. To BAD people. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve to be.” 

“I’m here because YOU thought I deserved to be” 

“I didn’t think it. I knew it. You didn’t die that day because you weren’t meant to die. If you were supposed to be dead, you would be. And you can’t convince me otherwise.” 

“Well for what it’s worth, I’m glad you did what you had to do to save me. Even though I know it fucked you up.” 

“Seeing you like that is what fucked me up. Not doing what I did. And can we not talk about this?” Tears well in her eyes. “I hate talking about this. About Dhaka. Because it brings it all back and I just can’t deal with that. I thought by now I’d be over it and I could talk about it and think about it. But I can’t. I just can’t.” 

Pushing his chair away from the table, he stands; limping as he walks around to where she sits, slightly wincing as he crouches down alongside of her. “Look at me...” he gently orders, one hand on her knees, the other reaching up and settling on the back of her neck. “...look at me.” 

She obliges. 

“I am right here.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not so sure. It’s like we’re right back there. Going through everything all over again. Like we never left.” 

“I’m just having a hard time,” she admits. “Things are happening so fast and with the business. I didn’t expect things to happen THIS quickly. I thought we had some time to breathe before you actually got back into it. At least a couples. A month, even. It’s been two days.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not even starting anything until after Millie’s birthday. We talked about this. You were okay with it.” 

“I AM okay with it. I’m the one who told you to go back. I just didn’t think it would happen so fast. I mean Addie’s not even a month old. She’s still tiny. She’s still new. And now I’ve got crates and bags of weapons and ammo and all kinds of other shit in my garage. And there’s people calling all the time wanting you help them right away.” 

“Baby...calm down...I’m not going anywhere for at least a couple of weeks. I told you that.” 

“I’m just worried. And I’m scared. I’ve got a new baby and four other kids, and I don’t want to do this alone. I CAN’T do this alone.” 

“Esme, everything’s going to be okay. This isn't like all the other times when I went back. Everything’s different now. You don’t need to worry so much. It’s all different. I’m different.” 

“I just want you to be careful. I just want you to be safe and come home and...” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he stresses. “Not for a while. Maybe not ever.” He pushes his fingers through her hair and places his lips against her forehead. “It’s going be okay. There’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise. Alright? Just calm down. Just calm down and trust me.” 

“I do. You know I do. It’s other people I don’t trust.” 

“I’ve got a lot of good people coming on board. Believe me when I say you can trust them. And you know, something really good happened today. At the school.” 

“With your new friend?” 

“If that’s what you want to call him. He was talking to me about our kid. TJ. How he always sticks up for his boy. His little guy’s in a wheelchair and has some issues and...” 

“You met Andy. Zeke’s dad.” 

“How do you know...” 

“Him and his wife used to volunteer at the school on the days I did. That guy is crazy talented. You should see his art. He’s known all over the world, apparently. All aboriginal stuff. Did you meet Zeke too?” 

Tyler nods. 

“He’s the cutest little guy. And he gives the best hugs.” 

“Your daughter said the same thing. Kid must be a player. What’s up with him hugging all the women in my life?” 

“It makes me realize how lucky we are,” she says. “We have five beautiful, amazing, healthy kids. And I know it wouldn’t have a difference if there’d been something wrong with Declan. It didn’t matter to you. And I wouldn’t have wanted to go through that with anyone else. But we’re lucky. So lucky.” 

“Yeah, we are. And we must be something right if TJ is like that. It means we haven’t fucked them up as bad I thought. At least not yet.” 

“You do a pretty good job. I’ll give you that.” 

“We do a good job,” he corrects. “I didn’t make those kids alone. And last time I checked, I didn’t give birth to them, so...” 

“Makes the thought of a sixth one not seem so daunting after all.” 

He grins. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that so soon.” 

“I’m just putting it out there. We’ll see how we feel six months from now.” 

“I was going to give it a year, but okay...” 

She leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. “I love you and I’m sorry for what I said. I know you said not to talk about it right now, but I can’t help it. I never meant it that way and I don’t even know why I asked you that in the first place. I just...” 

“It’s okay,” he assures her, kissing her temple before drawing her head down to his shoulder. 

“It’s not okay. That was shitty thing to ask you. I don’t know why I did. Because I don’t think that way about you. I never have. I was just shocked, I guess. I wasn’t expecting you tell me that. I mean, I’m glad you did because you shouldn’t have held onto that for so long and...” 

“Baby...” he rubs her back comfortingly. “...you’re rambling. Take it easy.” 

“I’m just so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m sure I’m the crappiest wife on the planet.” 

“You’re far from it. Trust me.” 

She pulls away to look at him, smiling through the tears. “You’re so biased.” 

“Maybe a bit. But that doesn’t make it less true. And I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you. I didn’t think you need to know about it. What good is going to do? Now that you heard all that. Now that you know what Asif wanted and what he was going to do. Nothing good is going to come of it.” 

“I just deal with it, I guess. Same way I’ve been dealing Dhaka shit for seven years.” 

“Not very well?” 

She frowns. 

“I’m just saying.” 

“Tell me this is going to go away. That one day I’m going to think about it and talk about it without feeling like I’m going crazy. That one day I’m going to wake up and it won’t bother me anymore.” 

“You will. One day.” 

“I hope so. Because I don’t know how much more of it I can take. How much longer I can go with it bothering me like this.” 

“It’s going to be alright,” Tyler promises, then presses a kiss to her forehead and once more draws her head down against him. “Everything’s going to be okay.” 

It sounds good. Even to his own ears. But he can’t stop that feeling of dread that forms in the pit of his stomach. There are so many unknowns; answers he needs but can’t seem to find. No matter how hard he tries.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: slight mention of attempted suicide, SMUT

Every time she closes her eyes it's there. Dhaka. The dirty, crowded streets; a sea of pedestrians and vehicles. Rundown tenement buildings and hotels; broken or missing windows, rusted balconies and faded, chipped paint. Narrow, cluttered alleyways and over populated laundries and the odd restaurant and cafe. Vendors peddling their goods among the chaos. It had been loud; a level of noise that she hadn’t anticipated. A continuous drone of honking horns and revving engines and incessant chattering and laughing. Yet at night it would grow eerily quiet; sundown and the call to prayer bringing a silence...a stillness...that was almost breathtaking. 

There are so many moments...images...permanently ingrained in her mind. That hotel room with its filthy walls and its water stained ceiling; the stark white and pristine bed sheets an odd and stark contrast against the dirt and grime. Torn and faded curtains covered the windows; or least attempted to. The balcony was rotting and weathered; cracked contract cement, wobbly and dent...and in some places missing...railings. It had been a shit hole; too much mismatched and broken furniture shoved into such a small area, a kitchenette that boasted a stove with only one matching burner and a barely functioning bar fridge and only one set of dishes and cutlery. The toilet had to be fixed every time you flushed it and the shower nozzle was barely higher than she was tall, and there never seemed to be any hot water or pressure to it. Yet it hadn’t been the worst accommodations she’d ever bunked down in; a paradise compared to some of the conditions she’d been subjected to while in the Middle East. And after things had taken an intense -yet not so surprising- turn, nothing around them had mattered anymore; able to temporarily escape the reality of their surroundings and the uncertainty of the situation. And they’d seek out that escape -and the profound pleasure it brought with it- as often as possible.

She can see Gaspar’s. Luxurious by Dhaka standards; a beautiful, well kept home just outside of the city limits. It should have been a relief; getting behind that iron security gate and those four supposedly welcoming walls. Finally off the streets and away from the violent and gunfire and the unpredictability; no longer having to watch your back every single second. But it had made things worse; she should have been grateful and somewhat relaxed and able to let her guard down. But the uneasiness had lingered; the absence of any true sigh of life within the hole eating away at her even as she stood in a hot shower and washed away all the dirt and the blood. There was a wife but no actual evidence of one; only a single toothbrush in the holder by the sink, nothing by hygiene products geared towards me, no housecoat -feminine or otherwise- hanging behind the door.

He’d been an intimidating man; not as tall or as muscular and defined as Tyler, but big and burly and strong in his own right. Putting on a good show with the welcoming smiles and the friendly chatter, but always watching her out of the corner of his eyes. Calling her ‘the girl’ or ‘that girl’ even when she was in the room. Rolling his eyes or scoffing every time she attempted to speak. He didn’t trust her; in the same way she didn’t trust him. There was no doubt that he felt that, which in turn made his hostility towards her even stronger. 

And when he’d confronted her in that darkened, upstairs hallway, the threat he presented had become all too terrifyingly real. Accusing her of being cunning and manipulative; willing to say or do anything to guarantee that Tyler would get her out of Dhaka alive. Even if it meant ‘whoring herself out’ to him. That in the end -once they were out of Bangladesh and all was said and done- she’d leave him even more damaged and broken than he already was. Telling her that he knew what she was up to; he recognized the deviousness and the sneaky little games she was playing. Even congratulating her on being able to do it so well and for pulling it off as long as she had. He’d tried gaslighting her: she was only “slowing things down, putting an even bigger target on his back. You’re going to get him killed. How are you going to feel then? Knowing he died for you. Will you even care?”. Admitting that he was impressed by just how evil and calculated someone so “small and cute and innocent looking” could actually be. And there was nothing she could have said or done to change his way of thought. 

She was the enemy and she needed to be eliminated at all costs.

“The kid AND the girl.” She can actually hear it in his voice, see the vehemence and determination on his face. The same way she can still see his sneer and the darkness in his eyes in that upstairs hallway when he’d reached out to touch her hair and…

Ovi. Ovi opening the door across the hall. The harsh whispers and Gaspar’s threats and lewd, degrading comments jarring him from rest. All of fourteen years old with that mop of hair and those huge dark eyes and that scared, anxious face. His life turned upside down in the blink of an eye because of his father’s transgressions. He could have easily ignored it; listening to every word that was said while cowering under his blankets. But he hadn’t. He’d cared enough to put a stop to things; growing bolder and braver as each second of that long and trying day ticked away. Afterwards...when the thread had been neutralized...she’d made the kid take a vow of secrecy. That they’d never speak of that moment again and that he’d never...under any circumstances...breathe a word of it to Tyler. And he was still loyal; holding onto that secret even seven years later.

Bile rises in her throat. He has that effect on her. Gaspar. Even the mere mention of his name makes her feel nauseous. It’s worse now; knowing just how vile and evil he could be behind that fake smile and his promises to help. It had probably been his plan all along; he’d probably gone to Asif the second he finished talking to Nik. Seeing it as an easy payday; convinced that there was no way Tyler would turn down the deal. Why wouldn’t he give up some random girl he’d been casually fucking and a drug lord’s kid? Five million is a lot of money in your pocket, and when combined with your freedom, it would be ridiculous to turn it down. After all, that's what Gaspar would do. No questions asked. He wouldn’t think twice about getting rich off of someone elses pain and misery. And weren’t all the mercenaries like that? At least in his eyes? Ruthless. Merciless. Savage. What were two strangers compared to that kind of money? An easy choice, in his eyes.

She shouldn’t be surprised. That he’d stoop to that level. And there’s vindication to be had in the fact that he’d hadn’t gotten away with it. A guilty pleasure in knowing that he’d gone to his grave...and hopefully the deepest recesses of hell...without seeing a single cent of Asif’s money. He hadn’t known Tyler as well as he thought he had; he’d never expected him to both turn down the offer and fight to the death -if need to- to stop Gaspar from getting his hands on her and Ovi. It had been a fitting end; sitting on those steps in his house, watching and listening as he took his last breaths. She’d felt nothing; not even the slightest bit of remorse or pity. At least not towards him. She’d felt it for Ovi; just a kid and being forced to pull the trigger and having it on his conscience for the rest of his life. And she’d felt it towards Tyler; knowing how hard it hits when you’ve been betrayed by someone you thought you could trust. Gaspar would have killed him. His loyalties had switched to Asif and with Tyler out of the picture, the entire ten million would have been his to keep. It’s a bitter pill to swallow; saving a man’s life and having him betray you THAT badly. All Gaspar had cared about was the payout. Not the three lives he would have destroyed in the process.

The guilt returns with a vengeance. Appalled that she’d even asked what she had earlier in the day. If he’d considered...even for a split second...accepting the deal. The one person that she’s always trusted...who trusted her in return...being subjected to a question that makes her nauseous to even think about. The only person in her life who has ever made her feel safe; giving her an overwhelming sense of safety and security that no one else had ever managed to do and she’d never realized she wanted OR needed. Who’d been so willing to die for her that day on the bridge and who would do so...without hesitation...even now. The last person who should have ever faced a question like that. She’d seen the hurt in his eyes; how deeply it had cut him. Far deeper and far more painful than any physical injury he’d ever received. The fact she’d even think that about him...see him in that way...doing more damage than the actual words themselves. And she’d regretted it the second she’d said it; setting the way his eyes darkened and his expression hardened and his jaw tightened. He rarely got that way with her; not even during the most intense fights they’d had over the years. His temper could be volatile and his words cutting and harsh, but his face...his demeanour...never did THAT. It was cold and brutal. Scary, even . And that’s something he’s never made her feel. Fear. 

Esme has no idea why she asked that question in the first place. She doesn’t think that way about him; never has. Even seven years ago there had been no doubt in her mind that he would have done anything and everything in his power to keep her safe. To get her the hell out of Dhaka. And that time spent on the Sultana Kamal Bridge should have been all the answer she needed. When she sat there listening to him choke on his own blood; having to put her fingers through the bullet hole in his neck to keep him alive. That should have been enough. All the proof she needed. He HAD been willing to die for her. He almost did. On the bridge and in the hospital and even all those years later when he’d tried to take his own life because the demons of the past were just too much to bear.

She pushes those thoughts out of her mind. Of all the things she’s seen and all the things she’s heard, nothing cuts deeper as hearing the person you love -more than life itself- tell you that they don’t want to live anymore; that you’d be much better off without them. No amount of reasoning with enough to convince them otherwise. No amount of tears and begging and pleading enough to get them to change their mind. And when you’re the one that finds them when they've gone through with their attempts…

A flood of tears threaten and she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to hold them back. Nothing good ever comes out of dwelling. Whether it be about Dhaka or Gaspar or all of the other battles that have been fought between then and now. And she rolls over onto her side; watching the way his body rises and falls with each steady breath and the slivers of moonlight that bathe his skin. His back towards her as he sleeps facing the hall. It’s been the same way for almost seven years; his insistence on facing the door in the same way he won’t sit in a public place with his back towards an entrance. Always ready for any possible threat that could come their way; knowing they stand a better chance of survival if he’s the first person someone encounters. It gives them both a sense of security; him confident in his strength and skills, her confident in his willingness and ability to protect her. 

***

Moving closer to him, she uses her fingertips to slowly and methodically trace the large Nordic compass tattoo that sits between his shoulders. In time moving down to each scar and blemish that mars his skin; those little imperfections that make up everything unique and beautiful about him. He hates that word; despises it being used to describe anything about him. As if it somehow takes away from everything he’s been through; dulling those edges and diminishing his strength and toughness and ‘softening’ him. It’s ludicrous but understandable. It’s what happens after years of witnessing abuse and toxic masculinity at its finest. He’s nothing like the man he’d grown up with; aman he’d been expected to respect and emulate. And despite that harsh bringing and the nerves of steels and the hardness...the roughness...that comes from years in the military and then as a mercenary, he’s breathtakingly human. 

Behind that tough as nails facade and those jagged edges, he possesses a staggering amount of compassion. There’s a kindness in his eyes; if you look close enough. It’s none more evident then when he’s with his children: patient and calm, very rarely raising his voice and most certainly never raising a hand. Both face and tone gentle and those strong hands with their scars and calluses and busted up knuckles capable of so much tenderness. Whether it be fixing Millie’s hair or patching up skinned knees or tending to busted lips and bloody noses. Even a husband...and especially as a lover...the sides to his personality are vastly different; always knowing what she craves. Whether it’s the need for him to be aggressive and dominant or soft and gentle. He just KNOWS. Before she even has to ask. Able to read it in her body language and see it in her eyes; reacting to the situation and becoming exactly what she wants and needs him to be. He’s complex and sensitive; far more than other people realize.

Her lips replace her fingers; pressing feathery kisses across his shoulders and onto the nape of his neck and along his hairline. A hand sneaking under the arm that rests lightly against his side, palm slowly travelling over her chest and down to his abs and lower; the hair that makes up his ‘happy trail’ wiry and rough against her fingers.

“Baby…” his voice is a low rumble; groggy from sleep. “...what are you doing?”

“Admiring.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Really late or really early. Depends how you look at it.”

Sighing, he reaches for his phone as it charges on the nightstand; not objecting when her hand slides even lower. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I'm not allowed to admire my husband at three in the morning?”

“You should be asleep.”

“So should you.”

“I was. Until my brain caught up with my body and realized you were getting ready to jerk me off.”

“I wasn’t even close to doing that. But now that you mentioned it…” her hand continues its descent, smiling against his shoulder when he groans deep within his chest as her nails lightly drag along his hardening length before taking it in her hand; warm and thick and solid against her palm. 

And his own hand slips beneath the sheet that slits low on his hip; much larger and stronger as it covers hers, showing her exactly what he needs. Her mouth slowly travelling over his shoulder and the back of his neck; lips soft, tongue moist, teeth lightly nipping. Loving the power she has over him; the way his breath quickens and his body trembles ever so slightly and his cock grows full and hard in her grasp. 

“Hey…” she protests, a dramatic pout on her face when Tyler rolls over to face her.

“Not like that,” he says, and kisses her. Even his kisses have a different side to them. Right now they’re soft and languid and tinged with the lingering remnants of sleep. A hand wandering as his lips down move to her neck slipping up the front of her tank top and cupping one of her breasts; thumb passing over the nipple as he licks and sucks at the sensitive flesh at the side of her throat. 

It’s all too much; the scrape of his beard against her skin, the way he alternates between gently caressing the nipple and firmly punching and twisting it. The ache between her legs is profound; almost unbearable. And her eyes close and a whimper escapes her lips and one hand tunnels in his hair and the other reaches between them to work on his cock once again. Enjoying the sounds that escape him and the way his body tenses and his hips jerk towards her.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he says, and then uses his size to his advantage and pushes her onto her back.

“That’s the point.”

“I said not like that.” He kisses her again; deeper now, more insistent. Demanding. A hand grabbing a hold of her hip and the fingers pressing into her flesh as he encourages her to open her legs. A long, low groan tumbling from his mouth as he slips into her with a slow, deep thrust.

She sighs, eyes fluttering closed as he moves inside of her. Each thrust fluid and intentional; every push causing a whimper to escape her lips. Legs falling open and bending at the knee; that simple change in position pulling him in even deeper. He feels so good; those hungry and needy kisses, the way the muscles of his back move against her, the bulge of biceps and forearms as he bears his weight on outstretched arms. And when he breaks out of a particularly deep and demanding kiss, she reaches up to grab a hold of his hair; yanking his head back and then trailing the tip of her tongue along his throat, over his Adam’s apple and up onto the underside of his chin. Tasting the sweat on his skin, feeling the trickle of his beard. And when she pulls his bottom lip between her teeth, something unravels inside of him. Movements become faster. Harder. Spurred on by the noises she makes and the way her nails rake down his back. 

“Make me cum,” she whispers. “Please...Tyler...make me cum.”

He reaches between them, the tips of two fingers toying with her clit. Until he can feel her shuddering against him and her hips lift off the bed; kissing her in order to stifle the cry that she emits. And he continues to move inside of her; pushing through the contractions and the convulsions of those inner muscles.

“Let me finish in your mouth,” he says, eyes searching hers for permission. And when she gives a nod of consent, he pulls out and rolls onto his back. Fingers of both hands tangling in her hair as she kisses, lick, and nibbles her way down his body. “Fuck…” the word leaves him in a low, drawn out groan when she lightly sucks at the tip before fully taking him between her lips. And it takes all his will power to not grab a hold of her head and fuck her mouth. Letting her do all the work; eyes closed and chest heaving, hands gently resting in her hair. “...feel so good…” he praises. “...feels so fucking good.”

Her hand curls around his shaft; working together with her mouth to drive him closer to the edge. Soon it becomes impossible to bear and he can no longer hold back; hands tightening in her hair and his hips rising off the bed, forcing her to take him even deeper. Fucking her mouth win the way he he would her body while buried inside of her. Until he’s coming hard and fast, pushing down on her head until the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat; long, hot spurts of semen that she accepts willingly, swallowing every last drop. Mouth and hand working together to drain him dry, leaving him a panting, quivering mess. 

“You’re so fucking good at that,” he breathes, and then cocks open an eye as she kisses her way up his body; her eyes sparkling, a prideful grin on her face. “Yeah...you SHOULD be proud of yourself and things you can do.”

“Maybe you’re just easy to please.”

“It’s not that. Trust me. It’s you. All you,” he pushes a hand through her hair once again, lightly tugging on her dark tresses as he pulls her down into a long, deep kiss. And she settles her body against his; head against his shoulder and their chests pressed together, her legs resting between his. 

“Thanks for waking me up,” Tyler says, and she laughs. “Normally I’d kick your ass out of bed for waking me up at three in the morning, but I think you had a pretty good reason.”

“It didn’t go the way I planned,” Esme admits. “You were supposed to let me do all the work.”

“That NEVER happens.”

“Because YOU won’t let it happen. Because you’re stubborn and you won’t ever just lie back and let me spoil you."

“I don’t know, I remember being laid up after knee surgery and you pretty much had to do everything. And by the way, I know it’s been three years, but you did an awesome job. My dick says thank you.”

She grins and presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “Your dick is very welcome. He’s lucky I like him so much. I can’t stand most dicks. Yours? He’s alright.”

“That’s because all the other dicks you had didn’t know what they were doing. Mine? Legend.”

She laughs at that, and he drops a kiss on the top of her head; palm slowly running down her spine and settling at the small of her back. Fingertips grazing over the tattoo that resides there; remembering how she’d been so embarrassed when he’d seen it for the first time. A ‘tramp stamp’ she’d called it, though he still doesn’t fully understand the phrase. It had been a drunken mistake during her first year at college and she’d always regretted it. But didn’t mind when...in Dhaka...he'd pinned her to the bed face down, hands tightly holding her hips as he traced the tattoo with the tip of his tongue. 

And he closes his eyes. Prepared to settle back into sleep with her slight, small body pressed against his. Knuckles brushing along her spine.

***

“How well did you actually know him?” Esme asks.

Tyler’s eyes snap open. He’s slightly disoriented; on the edge of sleep when she spoke. “Who?”

“Gaspar.”

“Why are we talking about him? Especially now. Right after we made love.” He doesn’t use that term often; mainly because their ‘go to’ has always been straight up fucking. As crude and harsh at it sounds. Very rarely were things slow and gentle in the bedroom.

“How close were you guys? Acquaintances? Friends? Best friends?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Why are we talking about him?”

“I’m just curious.”

“It’s almost four in the morning,” he points out.

“When you say he was your friend, do mean you were friends with him like you are with Koen and Rata, or…”

“A friend as in we worked some jobs together and we’d go out for beers afterwards or we’d meet up if we ended up in the same place. Not friends as in I’d known him my entire life or I’d go to his place and visit during my downtime or send him text messages and Christmas cards and all that shit.”

“So basically a work friend,” she concludes.

“Yeah...basically. Why are we talking about him again?”

“And you saved his life, right?”

“Once. Why?”

“How? How’d you save his life?”

“Esme, what the hell? Why are we talking about this? Is it ‘cause of what I told you today? That’s why I DIDN’T tell you before. Because I knew it would bother you. I knew you’d dwell on it and ask questions I don’t have answers for. If I’d known this would happen…”

“Humour me,” she says. “I want to know. How you saved his life.”

Tyler sighs. “He went into Honduras to do a job for some mobster type. Ended up fucking the guy’s wife and getting caught. So Nik sent me in there to get him out. He was a couple of hours away from a pretty painful and gruesome death when I got there.”

She scoffs. “You should have left him there.”

“Well what’s the saying? Hindsight is twenty-twenty? If I’d known then what would happen in Dhaka, I would have have told him to go fuck himself and bought a front row ticket to watch his execution. But…”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know. What happened that night. I know you blame yourself for taking Ovi and I there. But it’s not like you knew he was going to fuck you over.”

“I knew something wasn’t right. When I talked to him in the kitchen. There was something weird about the way he said ‘how’s the kid and the girl?’. And then talked about leaving to go and kiss his wife and it seemed...I don’t know...like it was bullshit.”

“There was no proof there was a wife.”

“He was wearing a ring,” Tyler points out.

“That means nothing. Lots of people wear rings on that finger. We never found out for sure. You know, it'd probably be pretty easy to look up if there really WAS a wife.”

“Why would we bother?”

“Just for curiosity’s sake, I guess.”

“Who gives a shit? It’s been seven years. If there was a wife, I’m sure she realized pretty quickly how much better off she was without him.”

“I still don’t understand how he could do that to you. Especially after you saved his life. Betray you like that.”

Tyler shrugs. “Money’s a hell of a motivator.”

“You never took the money.”

“I’m not a psychopath. He obviously was. And I don’t want to talk about this again. The whole deal thing. Once was enough. And it didn’t end well.”

“I didn’t mean it. What I said. It was a stupid fucking thing for me to ask. I don’t even know why I DID ask it. It’s like it just came out.”

“Baby,” he runs a hand over her hair and kisses her temple. “We already talked about this. We don’t need to do it again.”

“I feel like complete and utter shit about it. For hurting you like that. I never...ever...would do anything to intentionally hurt you. And I’m a shit human being for doing what I did and I feel terrible and…”

“Esme, stop. We’ve been through this. You said you were sorry, I accepted it, we moved on.”

“You should be angrier.”

“Says who?”

“Me. Because I know how I’d feel if you said something like that to me. If you all but accused me of being like Asif or Gaspar or guys like Mahajan Senior. It would kill me inside. And I’d be so pissed and hurt and…”

“And I was and now I’m not and you need to drop it. It’s fine. You apologized, we talked about, what more is there? I’m not angry. Am I hurt still? A little. But I’ll get over it. I’ve said plenty of mean shit to you when I’ve been mad, yeah?”

She nods.

“And you’ve always forgiven me. Every time. So let it go. Please. It’s over.”

“I am sorry,” she tells him. “That I said it. Because I’ve never…ever...thought that about you.”

“I know. Is that why you woke me up? To apologize in a different way?”

“Maybe.” she admits. “Did it work?”

“I’d already forgiven you. So you didn’t need to go to all the trouble.”

“You mean I could have saved all the time and energy and spared my jaw the hard work and pain?”

“You’re being dramatic. You do it willingly so it can’t be THAT bad.”

“I do it because you like it. And because I like doing it for you. And if I’m being honest, it kinda turns me on.”

Tyler grins. “You ARE dirty.”

“It’s easy to be dirty being married to the likes of you. You’ve got skills. Mad skills. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to marry you in the first place”

“Yeah? What are the other reasons?”

“It’s a whole bunch of things,” she says. “The way you can always make me laugh even when I’m having a really shitty day. How you always compliment me even when I know I look like crap. How you always look at me like I’m the most amazing woman in the world. Because you’re a great kisser and you’re nice to look at and you help make beautiful babies.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“And mostly because I love you and I thought I’d never love anyone THIS much. Especially after Mark and all his bullshit. I didn’t think I’d ever get married again. And then you came along and that was it. Everything changed. I often wonder how things would have turned out if we met differently. Do you ever think about that?”

“Sometimes,” Tyler admits.

“I always have it in my mind that if you’d met me at my cousin and Gs’ wedding, would things have gone down then? If I hadn’t been overseas…”

“I would have fucked you in the coat check room for sure.”

She raises her head and frowns.

“Just saying. And you wouldn’t have wanted to know me then. I was an even bigger mess than when we DID meet.”

“Okay...so if not there...where?”

“I dunno. I always imagine that you would have been here on vacation and we would have run into each other that way.”

“On the beach?”

“Sure. That works.”

“I so would have been checking you out,” she giggles. “All the muscles and the tattoos and those eyes and that hair…”

“I didn’t always have that hair, you know.”

“Every scenario I ever think of, you have that hair. Humour me. Would you have checked me out?”

“I’ve seen you in a bathing suit. So, yeah. I would have checked you out.”

“It weird to think about,” Esme muses. “A different version of us. A normal version. A normal Esme and a normal Tyler. With normal jobs and normal lives. I think you would have made a good cop. Or a firefighter. Or even just stayed in the military.”

“I always think you would have made a good teacher,” he says. “Or a nurse. Considering all the times you’ve had to take care of me. And how good you are at giving sponge baths.”

She grins. “Would still have fallen in love with me? If I’d been normal?”

“How normal?”

“If I’d been a nurse or teacher. Same personality, just a different career.”

“In a heartbeat. What about you? Would have fallen in love with me if I’d just been some normal guy?”

“Hmmm…” she ponders. “I don’t know…”

Tyler scowls. “You know what…?”

“I’m kidding,” she laughs, and presses a kiss to his lips. “I would have fallen in love with you a million times over.”

Smiling, he places a kiss on her temple and wraps both arms around her, holding her tightly and securely. Until her breath softens and evens out and he knows she’s asleep.


	37. Chapter 37

“Two more weeks and I’ll be six!”

Millie makes the announcement as she stands on a kitchen chair; pushed up against the counter next to the stove as they work side by side to prepare their customary Saturday morning breakfast. Clad in a t-shirt that once belonged to Ovi; the color long faded and holes under the arms and tears at the hem, yet still bearing the crest from Hargrave school in Mumbai. It’s far too big on her; reaching her ankles and having to be tied into a knot at the back of her neck in order to narrow the shoulder and keep the garment on her slight frame. But it’s one of her favorites; a prized possession that she refuses to part with, as if it's worth more than any other priceless artifact in the world.

“Well I’m really six in ten days,” she corrects herself. “‘Cause two weeks is fourteen days and that’s when my party is but my birthday’s before that.”

It still bothers him; the mere mention of the age of six bringing back a lot of painful memories. There’d only been three months between Austin’s diagnosis and death; the cancer shockingly aggressive, no treatment -no matter how severe- touching it. And he’d only been in Afghanistan for a week when he’d gotten the call that he’d passed away; taking a three day sabbatical for the visitation and the funeral before heading back. He’d known before he’d left out of the house that it would be the last time he’d ever be there; that his marriage was over. Sarah had refused to even speak to him since he arrived home; avoiding him even at their own child’s funeral. They’d barely spoken their words to each other over the course of that weekend, but he’d seen the hatred and the disgust in her eyes. The disappointment. He had abandoned his only child when he’d been needed the most; leaving Austin scared and lost and questioning why daddy hated him so much that he’d take off without even a proper goodbye.

In reality, their marriage had been falling apart for quite some time. They’d tied the knot fresh out of high school, wanting to do it before the start of his basic training and scared by the prospect of him being immediately sent overseas. The cheating began only a year into things; word travels fast when your wife is the ‘base whore’. He’d tried to pass it off as gossip, even though the evidence began to add up as time went on. And he’d confronted her many times, only to be told he was ‘imagining things’ and being ‘paranoid’; that he needed to grow up and get some balls and be ‘less of a little bitch’ and not so self conscious. He would have left the first time he caught her red headed, but two days later she was begging him for forgiveness and telling him she was pregnant and that there was no way the baby WASN’T his. So he stayed.

He’d been much younger then. Foolish. Convinced that she was the love of his life; the woman he was destined to be with forever. Who he’d have a family with and grow old and gray alongside of. Someone that would not only be a spouse, but best friend and confidant. He’d still been a kid when they’d gotten married, and years later -seventeen, to be exact- he’d realized just how wrong he’d been about her. Thirty-five years old and addicted to booze and pain meds yet somehow managing to find the most incredible woman he’d ever met. Someone who could handle him at his most unbearable and difficult times; strong and fierce and never backing down from a challenge. At that point he’d given up on himself; hopeless and lost. Broken. Believing he wasn’t worthy of absolution. And then Esme had come along and tore all those walls down. Showing him what love -real love- could be and SHOULD be. Never once...in seven years...questioning her loyalty or faithfulness. Someone just as damaged and tattered as he was. Two broken halves that had come together to make a slightly dented whole.

“Six is a pretty big number, you know.” Millie says, as she carefully ladles pancake batter onto the griddle. “It means I’m getting closer to ten. Double digits!”

Tyler sips slowly from a steaming mug of coffee. “Why do you have to break my heart like that?”

“I can’t stay little forever,” she informs him.

“Doesn’t mean you have to grow up as quick as you are.”

It seems like yesterday they were bringing her home from the hospital; all of eight and half pounds soaking wet, with a head full of light auburn hair and enormous blue eyes. And he’d sit on the couch or lie in bed with her sleeping against his chest, marvelling over how perfect and incredible she was; impossibly tiny hands and feet and the soft, content noises she’d make while she was eating. That little yawn with the squeak at the end and how long and dark her eyelashes were. Overwhelmed by just how much he loved her and how grateful he was that…after all the shitty things he’d done in his life, especially to Austin...he’d been worthy of being a dad again. And it’s almost as if he blinked and she suddenly grew up; going from taking those wobbly first steps being able to ride a bike without training wheels. Fiercely independent and strong in both physical strength and convocation and insanely intelligent. Tall and lanky, yet powerful for someone so young; fearless and brave and always willing to stand up for what’s right, no matter who is against her. 

And beautiful. So fucking beautiful. With that thick wavy hair -lighter now, the exact same color and texture as his- that falls over her shoulders and nearly reaches the middle of her back; those blue eyes framed by those dark lashes and those freckles across the bridge of her nose. For a brief moment he can see her as a teenager; tall and slender and a mixture of both fierce and feminine; all the boys wanting her attention. And he doesn’t know if that breaks his heart or makes him want to lock her in her room forever.

Maybe it’s both.

“I can’t help it,” she says, and uses her elbow to push hair away from her ear. “That I’m growing up so fast. You just don’t want me being a teenager and meeting boys and stuff like that.”

“What makes you think I want to talk about this crap?” Tyler retorts, stepping behind her chair as she removes the hair tie she sports around her wrist and passes it back to him. Continuing to place batter onto the griddle and flipping off the nearly cooked pancakes as he gathers her hair in his hands and secures it with the elastic. 

“Don’t worry, daddy. I’ll only date the nice boys.”

“Sure you will. You’ll probably date the ones you know I’ll hate the most.”

“Nope. Just the nice ones. Mommy says I’m a good judge of character. Like

“She did, did she? She said she was a good judge of character?”

“Yep. She said that's why she fell in love with you. ‘Cause her heart told you were a good guy even though you tried to act like you weren’t.”

“Really?”

“She said that you had a big heart even if it was really sad and angry. That guys like you weren’t supposed to be nice but she could tell that you were different. And she said it didn't hurt that you were really cute, too.”

He smirks. “She called me cute?

“You ARE cute. Obviously. I look just like you and look how cute I am!”

“You make a very valid point,” he presses a kiss to her cheek. “You ARE very cute.”

“Was mommy cute? When you met her?”

“She’s cute now.”

“But what was she like then?”

“She looked pretty much the same now as she did back then. She had really long hair though. All the down to her bum nearly. Do you remember her long hair? How she cut it all off when we moved to Colorado?”

“I loved her hair. She used to let me brush and braid it and play with it. I was so mad when she cut it off.”

“You and me both.”

“But she’s pretty either way. Is that why you fell in love with her? Because she was cute?”

“That’s one of the reasons, I guess.”

“What were the other ones?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” he grins, and then grabs two clean plates and forks and knives from the dishwasher.

“I’m almost six and curious about the world,” she reasons. “I like hearing about this stuff. About how you and mommy met and what you guys were like before I came along.”

“You came along pretty quick,” Tyler admits. “We didn’t know each other that well when we made you.”

“Grandma said it was bad that you guys made me before you got married. That you were going to go to hell for it. Among other things that she wouldn’t tell me. She said it meant I was a ‘bastard child’. What does that mean?”

“It means your grandma is an evil bitch and she’s the one that’s going to hell for ever telling you things like that.”

“Is it bad? That you and mommy made me before you got married?”

He shrugs. “I guess some people might think that way. It wasn’t bad to us. And we’re the ones that got together and made you, so…”

“I was a total surprise.”

“Yeah, you were a bit of a shock. A good one though.”

“Cause you were happy that I was coming. Because Austin died and you were really sad about it, and then mommy told you about me and made your heart happy again, right?”

He places a kiss to her forehead. “That’s exactly it.”

“Did you want me to be a boy?”

“It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted you to be healthy and get here safely. Because you were stubborn and very sneaky and you liked giving your mom a hard time. You didn’t want to stay where you were. You wanted to be sooner, not later. And you were pretty determined about it.”

“But the doctor made me stay in. ‘Cause it would have been bad if I got here too soon.”

“Very bad. You would have been even smaller than Addie. And she’s pretty tiny.”

“But I stayed in and cooked some more and then I was born and you cried because you were so happy. Mommy says you almost fainted.”

“Mommy needs to stop telling you so many of my secrets.”

“Why would you faint? Is it gross?”

“It’s a little...nasty.”

“Why? What’s so nasty about it? Where did I come out of? I don’t understand that part. I know I was in mommy’s tummy, but how did they get me out of there? Did they cut her open to pull me out?”

“Nope. You came out the normal way.”

“Which is what? What’s the normal way?”

“That’s something you’ll find out when you’re older. A lot older. Here…” he grabs the plates of food -one in each hand- and turns his back towards her. “..get on.”

She giggles as she uses the rungs of the chair and tight grip on the neck of his t-shirt to climb up onto his back; legs wrapping around his torso, arms around his neck as he carries her through the kitchen and living room and out onto the back patio. “You’re getting big, daddy. I can’t get my legs as far anymore.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“You’re not fat. You’re big. And strong. Mommy likes all your muscles.”

“Did she tell you that too?”

“She says you’re like a week worth of snacks.”

“Just a week? That’s kind of harsh. I like to think it’s more like a month, but…”

“You’re alright I guess,” she says, as he stands alongside one of the chairs and she slides down his back and into the seat. “Maybe when I’m older I’ll meet a guy like you.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“You’re not so bad. You have a nice smile and pretty eyes and you’re really tall. Girls like tall guys. Especially tall guys that are ripped.”

He frowns. “You’re starting to sound a little too much like your mother.”

“And you’re funny and you’re really nice and you can be really sweet and cute.”

“What did I tell you about the word?”

“You know, you CAN be cute and bad ass at the same time.”

“Not in my world.”

“Well your world is messed up then. But maybe I will. Meet a guy like you. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Smirking, he slips into the chair across from her. “Be careful what you wish for.”

***

They spend two hours surfing and then take a walk along the sand; Millie with her plastic pail in hand as she searches for unique rocks and shells and pieces of beach glass. Stopping every feet two toss tennis balls into the water for Mac to retrieve. He naturally loves all his kids and cherishes each moment he gets to spend with them, but there’s something extra special about the time he gets with Millie. Addie is still tiny and she can’t really spend quality time with her older sister, so Millie often takes a back seat to all of her brothers. They’re loud and boisterous and more demanding and needy than she is. She’s independent and remarkably self sufficient for someone so young. But she’s in her glory when it’s just the two of them; she gets all the attention and doesn’t have to fight to get a word in edgewise and gets to be on the receiving end of all the love and affection. And he thrives on being the centre of her universe; the way she trusts him so wholly and completely, without reservation. How she holds no grudges over all the time he’d been absent in her life or when he’s raised his voice and unintentionally hurt her feelings. Always looking at him as if he’s the greatest dad on the planet; with so much love and adoration that it sometimes takes his breath away.

He watches her now as she walks several meters in front of him. Clad in one of her many bathing suits, his baseball hat on her head; constantly falling over her eyes. The way she crouches in the sand and admires every rock and shell she comes across; turning them over in her palms and holding them up to the sun and gazing at them like they’re the most precious gems in the world. So full of curiosity and exuberance. Everything about her so pure and innocent. Perfect. This beautiful little human that he’d helped create during what was quite possibly one of the most chaotic and unpredictable times of his life.

“Look at this one!” Millie excitedly races back to him, holding a large chunk of dark purple beach glass in her palm. “It’s so pretty! We should make something with it.”

“Like what?”

“Something for mommy. Like a necklace or something. Can we? Make her something? I want to surprise her. She’s been sad lately and I don’t like when she’s sad. Mommy deserves to be happy and she deserves pretty things. ALL the pretty things.”

“I don’t deserve pretty things?” he teases.

“You already have something pretty. The prettiest. You have mommy. What more could you want?”

Instead of placing the glass in her pail, she tucks it into one of the pockets on his board shorts and then scampers off again; Mac hot on her heels, using his nose to help her dig through the sand on her valiant search for ‘buried treasure’.

“Haven’t you seen you guys in a while.”

He glances over his shoulder at the sound of Salena’s voice; he hadn’t realized they’d wandered THAT close to her property. He’s been keeping his distance; staying civil when he sees her and trying to give up off a vibe of normalcy. Whatever she’s up to, it’s best to just stay the course and act as if nothing has changed; don’t cause her to be suspicious and question why his behaviour has changed. And he tries not to panic or worry every time his wife spends time with her. Especially with one or all of the kids in tow.

“We’ve been around,” Millie responds, once more crouched in the sand as she and Mac continue their digging; eyes narrow and her brow furrowed as she regards the neighbor. 

“We’ve been busy,” Tyler says, and gives a small smile as she steps alongside him, tensing when she wraps him in a hug of greeting. He isn’t the affectionate type; saving both giving and receiving for his wife and kids. 

“Don’t touch him” Millie snarls. “That’s my dad. Mommy doesn’t like when other girls touch him. And neither do I.”

“It’s only a hug, kiddo.” Salena assures her. “Lots of friends hug.”

“You’re not looking at him like he’s your friend. I’m not stupid. You look at him like mommy looks at him. And only mommy is allowed to look at him like that. And don’t…” she scowls and moves away when Salena kneels down beside her and attempts to embrace her. “...I don't wanna be touched either.”

“She’s grumpy,” Tyler says, as a way of an apology. 

“I’m not grumpy, daddy. I just don’t like her.”

“Wow…” Salena gives a small, uncomfortable laugh. “...she’s nothing if not honest. Definitely her mother’s daughter.”

“Don’t talk about my mom,” Millie retorts. “And I’m not like her. I’m just like my dad. I don’t have time for other peoples’ bullshit.”

“Amelia…” Tyler gives her a look of warning. “...settle.”

“You shouldn’t touch him anyway,” she continues. “He’s not yours to touch. He’s mommy’s. He’s married to her. And he’s staying that way. He doesn’t mess around. He’s one of the nice guys. And if he wasn’t, you’re not his type.”

Salena scoffs. “She’s very…”

“Protective? She’s always been like this with me. Since she was old enough to talk. No one messes with daddy. Not on her watch. She’s a pretty good bodyguard.”

“I keep the sketchy people away,” Millie says. “And you’re big time sketchy. Where’s my uncle Kyle? Is he dead?”

Salena blinks.

“We haven't seen him in like forever. He was supposed to be in Australia to visit us and now he’s visiting you. He knew us before he knew you, you know. He’s mommy’s brother. He’s known us forever. Since I was just a tiny baby. We don’t see him much and now you take him away. Auntie Nik would always take daddy away, but at least she brought him back to us. Uncle Kyle just disappeared. Poof. Gone.”

“I’m sure he’s alive and well,” Tyler assures, and then turns to the neighbor with a smirk, passing it off as a joke. “He is, yeah? Alive? He’s not buried in the yard somewhere? You didn’t weigh him down and toss him into the ocean?”

“She probably poisoned his coffee.” Millie says. “Like mommy always says she’s going to do when you REALLY piss her off.”

“Why don’t you go down to the water and see what you can find down there,” he suggests. “Maybe you’ll find something else really pretty for mommy.”

“Who was the guy that was at your place the other day?” The soon to be six year old asks. “In the black SUV?”

Salena frowns. “Guy in a black SUV? What…?”

“Don’t play dumb. I saw him. Daddy did too. Daddy has good eyes and really good instincts. That’s why the bad guys were so scared of him. And ‘cause they knew he could kick their asses.”

“Amelia,” he tries again. “Go down to the water with Mac and…”

“Daddy knows he was watching us,” she continues. “You’re not very smart if you think daddy wouldn’t notice. He notices everything. And if anyone tries to mess with mommy or any of us kids, he’ll make them suffer. Big time.”

“Amelia…” his tone is more forceful now. “...enough. Take Mac and go down the water. Give me a few minutes, yeah? Then we’ll go home.”

“Fine,” she huffs, then stands up and angrily brushes sand off her butt and the backs of her legs. “...but she’s lying, daddy. About the guy. I saw him. And I know you did too.”

He watches her as she stomps off, the dog hurrying alongside her. He knew he should be shocked that she’d been that aware of the incident the other morning; he’d thought he’d done a pretty good job of hiding the suspicion and the concern. But is it really that much of a surprise that she’d be that observant at even that young of an age? After all, both her parents had been in a job where keen observation skills weren’t just handy. They were a necessity. Often the first thing responsible for keeping you alive. It isn’t the way he’d wanted things to go; he’d wanted solid proof of wrongdoing before confronting Salena. But it’s too late now.

“So,” he asks as he turns to the neighbor. “Who was it? The guy watching us.”

“He wasn’t…”

“Don’t try to bullshit me. I know when someone is watching me. I spent years in a job where I had to have eyes in the back of my head. Where staying alive depended on it. And don’t tell me it was just some friend that happened to stop by. I saw you get out of the Jeep with folders in your hand. And I know he was wearing an earpiece.”

“You ARE observant.”

“Why was he watching me? More importantly, why was he watching my kids? The last guy who fucked with my family? I cut off two of his fingers with a hunting knife and yanked out a few out of his teeth with pliers. Then I handed him over to guys who did even worse things to him before killing him. So you tell your friend that if he comes near my wife and my kids, it won’t end well for him either.”

“He’s a colleague,” she says.

“What kind of colleague? What do you actually do for a living? And don’t lie. I already know you aren’t who you say you are.”

“How much DO you know?” she counters.

“I know there’s no record of you ever attending any school in Australia. And there’s nothing on you at the bureau of transportation or with any other branch of the government. You think I don’t do my research?”

“I didn’t expect things to go this way. To get caught so soon. Or at all.”

“Your guy’s a rookie. I made him in thirty seconds. Tell him I said he won't live very long being that wet behind the ears. And caught doing what? Just what ARE you doing?”

She sighs. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“This isn’t the time to talk about this. Not with little ears around. If I can get Kyle to watch the kids later, would you come over? You and Esme?”

“I want her kept out of this. Whatever it is.”

“It involves both of you. ALL of you.”

“Are you a threat?” To her or my kids? Are we going to walk in there and find out you have a bunch of guys waiting to ambush us? Because if that's what you're planning…”

“I’m not a threat to anyone.” she assures him. “I’m not here to hurt you. Or Esme. Or the kids. I’m here to help. Or at the very least, keep things from escalating.”

Tyer frowns. “Things? What things?”

“I work for Neysa Rav.”

“Saju’s wife?”

“I know everything. I know you are and what you did and I know about Dhaka. All of it. This wasn’t supposed to get out. It was supposed to stay quiet. It’s the way she wanted it. On the down low unless things became bigger and more problematic than they currently are.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Neysa is in hiding. With her son. She’s been receiving threats. Legitimate, serious threats. From people associated with Ovi Mahajan Senior.”

Tyler shakes his head incredulously. “What the fuck…?”

“Your name was brought up. Along with your wife and your kids. Neysa asked me to come here and watch out for all of you. Me and my people.”

“Are you a merc?”

“Far from it. We’re a private security company. Nowhere near along the lines of being mercs. But we sometimes work hand in hand with them and hire them to do our dirty work.”

“Daddy!” Millie calls from the edge of the water. “Can we go now? I’m hungry. And I gotta pee!”

“Go in the water,” he instructs.

“That’s gross. I wanna go home. I wanna see mommy.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Salena says. “But I promise I’m not a threat. I can prove that later when you come over. I just ask that you trust me long enough to give me the chance to show you; who I am and what I do. Can you do that?”

Tyler nods.

She gives an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry it had to come out this way. But it will all make sense. I promise.”

He watches her as she heads through the sand; never looking back over her shoulder as she heads for her house. And he realizes nothing makes sense.

It hasn’t in a long time.

****

“None of this makes any sense,” Esme declares, as she tends to making lunch; grilled cheese sandwiches, soup, and fresh veggies for the kids, leftover chicken cashew stir fry for them. “She’s a spy?”

“I guess if you want to put it that way…” He stands at the patio door; Addie lying along a forearm as he feeds her, keeping an eye on Millie and the twins as they play in the sand. Ovi sits at the patio table, smiling and laughing as Declan crawls and climbs all over him. 

He’s tense. It’s been almost seven years since Dhaka; since so many good people had lost their lives...since he’d nearly lost his own...attempting to kid to safety. Yet it still refuses to let them rest; no such thing as true closure. As time went on and no revenge had been sought, Tyler had been optimistic that nothing more would come of that job. And now that there's been threats against him and his family and there’s targets on their backs; he’s on edge. The rage simmering inside of him. Fingers itching for a trigger to pull.

“Well what did she say?” Esme asks. “She called herself that? A spy?”

“She called it private security.”

“So she’s a merc.”

“I didn’t say that,”

She scoffs. “Private security. Does that sound familiar? It’s what I used to call it when my family asked what you did for a living. And you were a merc. Or still are. I don’t even know anymore. And she’s somehow connected to Neysa and Aarav?”

“Neysa hired her. Or Salena’s company at least.”

“Oh she’s so a merc,” Esme concludes. “That’s merc talk and you can’t deny it. And why would Neysa need to hire people like that in the first place?”

“I told you. Mahajan holds a lot of grudges. He has some scores to settle.”

“Scores to settle against who? A dead man? Saju did what he was supposed to do. He got Ovi out alive. Or helped at least. Ovi’s alive because of him. And you. You think that would be enough to appease the old man. But no. He has to be a total dick bag about things. Can’t he just be happy that his kid is alive and has had a good life.? That he’s grown up to be an amazing young man? Like fuck…” she huffs, and grabs a stack of plates -plastic and regular- from the cupboard. “...what a tool. And to think I question my parenting skills when there’s people like that out there.”

“Makes you realize we’re not doing as bad of a job as we think we are.”

“And the fact he did that to Saju!” She angrily continues. “Threatening his wife and his little boy like that. At first I hated him for doing what he did. He killed the whole team and could have easily have killed me, wanted to kill you…”

“He had his reasons,” Tyler says. “Two very valid ones.”

“...and then I realize he wasn’t evil. He was just trying to save his family. Either one of us would do the same thing.”

He nods. 

“The guy was a bad ass and a hero until the bitter end and he should be remembered that way. So fuck Mahajan. Fuck him straight to hell. He makes me rage, I swear.”

Tyler grins. “I can tell.”

“So what’s the issue? It’s been seven years and he’s looking for revenge now? Why?”

“Who knows. He probably couldn’t find her or the kid. Where was she hiding? You talk to her. Did she ever tell you?”

“A year ago she mentioned being in Nepal. It never got brought up again and I never thought to ask. I didn’t need an address; we always just communicated through email.”

“When was the last time you talked to her?”

“Couple weeks ago, I guess. Maybe a bit longer. Shortly before Addie made her appearance. Neysa wanted to know where she could send something for the baby and I gave her the address for the post office box. Just in case...I don’t know...just in case, I guess. She’d sent a picture of Aarav. A graduation photo. Because he’s going into high school.”

“Fuck...already?”

“He’s fourteen now. Same age Ovi was in Dhaka. It’s been seven years. Well almost, anyway. If there was something wrong...if someone was threatening her or threatening us...or both...why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Maybe she didn’t trust email either. Did you check the post office box?”

“Two days ago. There was nothing there. Why? You think she could have slipped a note into whatever she sent? No one would be none the wiser if she did. She could have been giving us a heads up without whoever is after her knowing.”

“I don't know what to think,” Tyler admits.

“Do you believe her? Salena?”

He nods. “There’s no reason anyone would lie about all of that.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I haven’t seen anything weird. And the kids and I are out front all the time and when they’re in school, I always take Declan and Addie for walks down the road. I definitely would have seen something like a sketchy guy with an ear piece, sitting in a Jeep with a busted headlight.”

“I know what I saw. And your daughter saw it too. I wasn’t seeing things and I wasn’t imagining it.” His tone is more hostile and irritable than he’d intended. 

“Okay...baby…” she begins. “...you need to take it down a notch. I am not the enemy here. I didn’t say you were seeing things or that you imagined it. All I was saying is that whoever this guy is? He hasn’t been around any of the times I’ve gone out there. I’d tell you if I saw something like that.”

“Would you? Or would just keep it to yourself because I’d ‘freak out’ and I’d be ‘overprotective’?”

“You are projecting all of your worry and all of your hostility towards Mahajan onto me. And I usually can take it, but I’ve had just about enough with peoples’ crap. I’ve got Nik emailing me and leaving me text messages and voicemails and I’ve got Yaz calling. And now I’ve got a potential merc for a neighbor and…”

“She is NOT a merc. I'd be able to tell if she was.”

“....and now I have Mahajan bringing his bullshit. After everything we’ve done to care for his kid; raising him like he’s one of our own, giving him a family and a normal life. And now he wants revenge? For what? What have you done to him?”

“Got in Saju’s way. He was supposed to eliminate me. He didn’t.”

“He ended up helping Ovi out in the end so that reason is just pure and utter shit. He fucked you. Right from the beginning. And you could have easily left his kid in the street...to die...when you found out there was no money. But you didn’t. So he can go fuck himself.”

Tyler grins as he turns away from the window. “You’re in a mood.”

“I hope he knows you’re getting back into things. That you’re getting back into the job. Maybe that will make him think twice about trying anything. If he knows you’re still on your game and knows not to fuck with you, maybe he’ll back off.”

“Or maybe it’ll make things worse.”

“Tyler…” she sighs heavily. “...what ever happened to your whole ‘I’m going to try and be more optimistic’?”

“Pretty hard to be optimistic when this kind of shit is being dropped into your lap all at once.”

“It just makes me so mad,” she says through gritted teeth. “Why can’t it just leave us alone? Dhaka. It’s been seven years almost and it keeps hanging in there and causing all kinds of grief. This should have been over and done with all those years ago. And yet here is. The big, black fucking cloud over our heads.”

He shrugs. “It’s our cross to bare, I guess.”

“Well I’m tired of baring it. I just…” she slams the knife she’s been using to cut the kids’ sandwiches done onto the counter. “...you know what? Go to Mumbai. Go to Mumbai and go to the prison and kill him. Boom. Done.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Baby, it’s not that easy. I can’t just walk into the place and shoot him in the head.”

“You’ve done sniper work. You’re an amazing shot. Take him out from a hundred yards away.”

“Because that would be easier? Do you know the security they have around that place? I wouldn’t even get within a hundred yards. And I’m not going all the way there to assassinate a drug lord. Do you want me to get killed? Because that’s how I’ll get killed.”

“You’ve handled bigger and better,” Esme argues.

“”I am NOT going to Mumbai.”

“So what then? He sends people here instead?”

“Wait a second…” his eyes narrow. “...you’re not joking about this, are you. You’re actually being serious about this? You want me to go to Mumbai, walk into a prison, and kill Ovi’s old man?”

“Would you rather him come here and kill you? Or me? Or our kids?”

“He can’t do shit. He’s in prison.”

“You know what I mean, Tyler. His people. They’ll come here and they’ll kill you. But first they’ll kill me. And your kids. And probably even the dog.”

“Okay, no one is going to get killed,” he calmly reasons. “You’re overreacting. We don’t know for sure that there were any threats made against me or you or the kids. All we DO know is that our names got brought up. Can we at least see what Salena has to say before you start making plans for me to assassinate a drug lord?

“I’m just...I’m on edge,” she says, as she returns to preparing the kids’ lunch. “And why didn’t you tell me about this sketchy Jeep driver before? Or that you knew Salena was bad news? I’ve been going over there. With the kids!”

“You wanted a friend.”

“I didn’t want a friend like that! You knew she was lying and that she wasn’t who she says she is and yet you still said nothing. Of all the things I thought you’d tell me, that’s it. What if she’s dangerous?”

“She’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s working for Neysa. Who had to go into hiding because of Mahajan. We’re on the same side.”

“You better get these people of yours...the ones who want to work for you...on board sooner rather than later. Because if shit hits the fan, it would be nice to have them around, don’t you think? This is such crap. Why can’t we have a normal life? Why can’t we just be happy? Why does the universe keep shitting on us?”

“Bet right about now you’re wishing Dhaka ended differently,” he wryly comments.

“Okay...first…” she turns to face him, gesturing in his direction with the knife in her hand. “...let’s not even go there. What happened in Dhaka,, happened. And you’re alive and that’s a good thing. A very good thing. Because I kind of like having you around and so do your kids. Who wouldn’t even be here had you’d died that day. So don’t say stupid like that.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “So what’s the second thing you’re going to say?”

“Now is not the time to be a smart ass, Tyler. I’m just about ready to lose my fucking mind. None of this makes sense and it’s all screwed up and you’re going to wind up back in that shit hole. I just know it. You’re going to end up back in Dhaka and…”

With Addie still along one arm, he stands behind his wife and lays the other along her collarbone; pressing kiss to the top of her head. “I am not going back to Dhaka. If anything, I’d end up in Mumbai.”

“Which is just as bad!”

“It’s paradise compared to Dhaka.”

“I swear to God, if you end up back there, on that bridge…”

“”That’s not going to happen,” he assures her. “That is NEVER going to happen.”

“You don’t know that. Because this is so fucked up and twisted that in some weird it would all make sense. Like it all coming full circle.”

He can feel her body shaking against him; hear the tremor in her voice. “Calm down…” he presses his lips to her temple. “Just take it easy, okay? No one is going back to Dhaka. Or that bridge. That’s just your brain trying to freak you out. There’s no chance of that happening. There’s no reason for me to be in Dhaka. It’d be Mumbai, if anywhere.”

“I hope you’re right. Because if it happens and you do go back there…”

“Stop,” Tyler tightens his hold on her, his lips against her ear. “It’s not going to happen. You need to trust me when I say that. I’m never going back to Dhaka.”

“You might not have a say in it.”

“I always have a say in it. I choose where I go. Especially now. And I’m going back there. Ever. Okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” she says, as she sniffles noisily and kisses his forearm, body relaxing back against his. “Because Dhaka didn’t take you the first time. And I refuse to let it try again.”


	38. Chapter 38

“How much do you think Kyle knows?” Esme asks, several hours later as she stands at the end of their bed with Addie in her arms. Her body sways from side to side; the movement solely to calm her shaky nerves baby, the baby already fast asleep. Her voice is low; eager to keep any eavesdroppers -especially little ones- from hearing their conversation.

“Might not know anything,” Tyler replies, as he slips into a pair of cargo pants, tending to the zipper and button.

“What’s the chances of that? Considering all the time he’s been spending over there, getting to know her. In the biblical sense.”

“How long were you able to hide what you did for a living from your family?”

“That’s a valid point. But I didn’t live under the same roof as them. And Kyle’s been over there every day for a week and a half; we barely see him. Can you be with someone THAT much and still be totally oblivious?”

“Maybe she’s really good at her job and knows how to keep things on the down low. She fooled us, didn’t she?”

“I’d just like to take this opportunity to swallow my pride and admit that you were right all along. You didn’t trust her from day one. “

“You called me paranoid and overprotective,” he reminds her.

“Usually that’s all it is,” she reasons. “You can be VERY paranoid and overprotective. I thought you didn’t want some strange all up in your personal space. You don’t like people disturbing your happy place.”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t think there was something...off...about her.”

Esme shrugs. “I thought maybe she was just eccentric and outgoing. Friendly.”

“Overly friendly. Like she was trying too hard.”

“Well you ARE a tough nut to crack. I guess it is sort of strange that she seemed so hell bent on being friends with you; you’re not exactly the warmest and most welcoming person. And the whole thing wanting to touch you all the time,” she frowns. “I mean, I can’t exactly blame her for wanting to. I’d want to feel you up too. But she was so...I don’t know...insistent.”

“And you encouraged it. That night she had dinner here.”

“I was joking around and you were a really good sport about it. I just thought she was being goofy and totally harmless. And I was right there. It’s not like she was being sneaky about it.”

“Like when she came over here and I was alone and she started making comments about my dick?”

“It’s a very nice dick,” she playfully comments. “Guess she just knows a good thing when she sees it.”

“It was weird. Normally I don’t mind being checked out, but that was fucked up.”

“Maybe she wanted to bang you and see if you lived up to your man whore reputation,” Esme teases, and he gives a small laugh and snags a belt from the closet; slipping it through the loops on his pants. “I don’t blame her for being thirsty. I’ve been thirsty for seven years and I feel no shame for that.”

“Yeah, but I like when it comes from you. Other people? Not as much. And she’s a little…”

“Overbearing?”

“That works.”

“I don’t understand how he didn’t hear or say anything,” she muses, watching her husband as he finishes dressing. Shrugging into a short sleeved button down; olive green and fitting ‘just right’ across that broad chest and shoulders and snug around the biceps. 

He’s changed a lot in seven years; physically speaking. Heavier and wider, stronger and more powerful, a touch more gray scattered throughout his hair and in his beard. More tattoos and scars that are still healing; injuries he’d sustained at Michael McMann’s home in Ireland. But the most drastic difference -despite the horrors and struggles with PTSD and everything that comes with it- are with his personality. The edge is still there. The grittiness and the toughness that comes with years of serving in the military and then as a ‘gun for hire’; the often haunted look in his eyes, caused by the things he’s seen and heard and had been forced to do to stay alive. It had taken years for all those walls to come tumbling down; a full time job even after they’d gotten married and having Millie AND the twins.

It had been a struggle for him; opening up to someone, trusting them, allowing himself to have those softer and vulnerable moments. He’d grown up with an abusive father and went straight into the SASR after graduating high school; had a wife that cheated on him regularly, had a child diagnosed with a terminal illness, then made the unfortunate -and entirely selfish- decision to abandon him while he was dying. But little by little the cracks in that hardened exterior began to spread and grow wider. He began laughing and smiling more easily; genuine smiles that would light up his face and crinkle the corners of his eyes. Letting go of the constant need to be the strong and stoic one; afraid that too much emotion and showing -and receiving- too much affection made him ‘soft’. Weak. 

Slowly he’d come around; his children managing to strip away at the last of the layers that he found it so hard to get rid of. They’d always been there. The empathy. The compassion. A heart ten times bigger than his body. Just needing to be reminding that it was okay to expose those sides of himself; to allow himself to feel.

To be human.

“It would be hard don’t you think?” she continues, as she places Addie in her bassinet. “Keeping that kind of secret when you’re under the same roof?”

We’ve kept a lot of secret things from each other,” Tyler points out.

“That’s different. We have a past and a lot of bad things happened in it. Anything we’ve held back from one another, has been done with good intentions. She’s just over there doing her thing and spying on us and having her colleagues over. She’s probably just been using him to get close to us. Or to find things out about us. Kyle isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer and he wouldn’t twice about it if she started asking him things. If she’s that sneaky…”

“Maybe what’s going on between them is legit. Maybe the dick’s that good.”

Esme grimaces. “Ewww. That is my brother. Let’s not talk about that. He probably could have given you a run for your money during your days as a whore.”

“I was not THAT bad.”

“Bullshit you weren’t! I bet half those scars on your back aren’t even from the job. I bet they’re left behind from some stripper with those tacky long nails that are like daggers.”

He grins, then leans it to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “She was a Sunday school teacher, actually.”

“Yeah, and I bet now she can’t even walk into a church without bursting into flames because of how badly you corrupted her with your filthy ways. I was an innocent, good girl until I met you. And now look.”

“You may have only been with two other guys before me, but there was nothing innocent about you. What went on those days? Even just that first day? Good girl, my ass.”

“I can’t help it that the voice and the accent brought out the nympho in me,” she says, and directs a swat to his ass before he heads around to his side of the bed. Watching as he removes the Glock remover and its holster from the lock box in the nightstand; slipping the latter onto his right hip before covering it with the bottom of his shirt.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Tyler reasons, when he catches her observing with wide eyes. 

“And if all else fails, she probably has a garden rake you can borrow and kill someone with.”

He smirks. “It’s not too far-fetched to think maybe things between your brother and Salena are the real deal. What would she have to gain by banging him just to get to us?”

“Orgasms? Hopefully.”

“It makes no sense that she’d do that. Hook up with him to get to us. That’s way too much work.”

“None of this makes any sense,” she grumbles, and then sheds her housecoat in favour of pulling on a simple white and yellow striped Maxi dress over her bra and panties. 

Tyler doesn’t argue with that.

“Okay, so we’ve established that it is possible Kyle knows nothing. But explain this to me: why would Mahajan give us Ovi if his intention all along was to come after you? Wouldn’t that just put Ovi in harm's way all over again? And why would he wait this long for revenge? The kid’s been with us for six years now.”

“I dunno, babe. He’s got his reasons I guess.”

“It’s been seven years since Dhaka. If he held a grudge against anyone, it would have been Saju. For not taking you out.”

“But he’s dead and I’m still here. So…”

“That line of thinking makes no sense,” she argues. “Why would he wait all this time to exact revenge?”

“Probably to catch me off guard.”

“Hmm...I guess…”

“Or maybe he was waiting until I had a lot to lose. So it would make a bigger impact.”

“That’s just fucked,” Esme declares. “And if that’s the way he thinks, he’s an even bigger monster than I thought. Waiting until a man has a family?”

“More lives destroyed that way,” Tyler reasons.

“That’s messed up.”

“You what kind of people these are. You’ve worked closer with them than I have. You were the one that would go in and make nice with them and get them to trust so you could get the info guys like me needed. You can’t tell me you didn’t hear and some fucked up shit.”

“Of course I did. But this is different. This is personal. We aren’t talking about random strangers we’ve been hired to help. We’re talking about OUR family. You’re not just some guy off the street that I barely know. You’re my husband. And those are my kids downstairs and…”

“Nothing’s going to happen to the kids. Or you.”

She scowls. “I noticed you didn’t put yourself in there.”

“I gotta do what I gotta do, yeah? Keep you and the kids safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Well it matters to me if you’re still breathing at the end of it. And can we not think all doom and gloom? If Salena is telling the truth...if she is who she says she is and she’s working for Neysa and her ‘people’ are keeping an eye on things...maybe things won’t escalate. Maybe it will just be all idle threats and nothing will come of them.”

“You really want to just sit back and hope nothing happens?”

“What else can do?”

He takes a seat at the end of the bed, grimacing at the pain in his knee and the small of his back. “I can eliminate the threat.”

“You said yourself that you can’t just walk into the prison and shoot him in the head. And it’s the people he has doing his bidding that we have to worry about.”

“So I stop them before they can cause issues.”

Esme frowns. “You’re talking about tracking them down first? Before they can even get this far?”

“Take them right out of the game before it even starts.”

“That’s a little risky don’t you think? How would you even know these people are? I doubt Mahajan is going to willingly give you their names.”

“There’s ways of finding out.”

“How?” she asks, and leans back against the dresser across from her.

Tyler stares at her pointedly.

“Oh hell no!” Esme objects. “I am not getting involved in this.”

“You already ARE involved in this.”

“I am NOT going to Mumbai to talk to Mahajan. There is no way I’d be able to get information out of him. Why the hell would he tell me anything? If he really IS after you, he’s going to tell your wife who’s working for him.”

“I wouldn’t let you go there anyway. But you know people. You still have contacts in the game. Probably some that are in India right now.”

“People that I haven’t talked to in years,” she reminds him. “I can’t just call them up and ask them for help. It isn’t the same kind of relationship you have with your contacts. They’re glad to hear from you’; they’re happy you’re even still alive. Mine are hoping I’m dead. That’s a lot of burnt bridges, Tyler. And some of them? Going to them for help would only make things worse.”

“So you give me their names and numbers. I’ll talk to them.”

“And that would be better, how? I lied to them years ago and now I turn around and give their info to a mercenary? You can see why that would be problematic, right?”

“Then just give me their names and I’ll find their numbers another way. I don’t even need to bring you into it. They don’t need to know how I found them.”

“They’d figure it out.”

“Well we need to figure out who these people are. The ones working for Mahajan. Before shit does hit the fan.”

“WE don’t need to do anything,” she informs him. “Let Salena and her people take care of it. It’s what they’ve been doing, right? Keeping an eye on things?”

“I’m not going to trust complete strangers with your life. Or our kids’ lives. I’m just not.”

“So you’re just going to find out who these people are and hunt them down one by one?”

“If I have to.”

“Tyler...no...just no. How is that even an option?”

“It’s the ONLY option.”

“The hell it is! Salena and her people are always on this!”

“And I already said I don’t trust them. Not with you, no with my kids. I trust myself. And a couple other people. That’s it. And I’m not going to just sit back and and wait for things to go to shit. I need to stop it before it happens.”

“You don’t know that anything is going to happen.”

“I’d rather not take the chance that it will.”

Sighing heavily, she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“You trust me?” Tyler asks.

“Of course I trust you. You're the only person I do trust. But I also love you and I don’t want to just send you out there to get killed. These are bad people. Extremely bad people.”

“I’m not some rookie going in blind,” he reminds her. “This is what I do. It’s who I am.”

“No. It’s part of who you are. There’s a difference.”

“And right now, I need to be that ‘part’. I need to be the old Tyler. And I need you to be okay with that. I’m not doing this because I want to. I’m doing it because I have to. You’re my wife. Those are my kids. And without any of you, I’m nothing. Which is why I need you to let me do this.”

Another sigh. Heavier this time. Resigned. “Can we at least give it two weeks? For the kids? Because we’re going away next week and then it’s Millie’s birthday shortly after. And we can not take that away from her. She’s a little girl. And she’s so happy and so excited and it’s going to break her heart enough when you leave and I’d rather her not find out until AFTER her party. Can you do that at least?”

He nods. “But if anything happens…”

“If anything happens then you go and take care of it. But for now can we just act like nothing’s going on? For them? Because they're kids and they don’t need to worry and stress over adult things. Can we just pretend around them that everything’s fine? Because it’s going to be hard enough when you leave without the anticipation of it hanging over their heads. Please? Can we do that?”

“Of course baby.”

He reaches out and takes hold of one of her hands, gently tugging her into him, placing her between his legs. And he presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist and then wraps both arms around her waist; pulling her tight against him, forehead resting against her chest. Eyes closing as he feels her hands on him. First in his hair. Fingers combing through it before her nails lightly scratch against the nape of his neck, then the tips running softly over the outer edges of his ears. And when her palms come to rest against his cheeks, he looks up at her, attempting a reassuring smile when he finds those huge dark eyes filled with tears.

She’s silent as he watches her. Fingertips travelling over the older scars that mar his face; the one across the bridge of his nose, then the left side of his forehead, followed by the one alongside his left. Then she moves to the one that he’d sustained during the incident at Michael McMann’s house. Starting at the top of his right eyebrow; spreading up onto his forehead and disappearing -for several inches- into his scalp.

She kisses him. So soft and sweet sweet...the tenderness and the love so evident...that it takes his breath away and nearly brings tears to his eyes.

“I can’t lose you,” her voice is just above a whisper. “I just can’t.”

“You won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

She manages a small smile and places a kiss on his brow. And he tightens his hold on her; falling backwards onto the bed and tucking her securely into his chest; one hand on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back. Feeling her body trembling against him and the tears that dampen the front of his shirt.

****

She plays the part of a perfect hostess; bringing out carafes of coffee and tea and a jug of ice water, along with plates of various small desserts and finger foods. Tyler had noticed the drastic change in her the moment she’d answered the door. Her usual flowing and brightly colored sundresses or tropical themed shorts and band t-shirts replaced with well tailored dress slacks and a crisp white blouse; her usual bare footed approach abandoned in favour of a pair of black heels. But her personality change is the most baffling. No longer loud and boisterous and bordering on obnoxious, instead both soft AND well spoken. Now that the truth is out -or at least part of it - she no longer has put on the front of the affable, annoying, and overly friendly new neighbour. Now she’s professional and courteous. Polite. And almost too apologetic. A continuous string of “I’m sorry” and “I wish things hadn’t come out this way” as she led them out onto the back deck. Telling them help themselves to food and drink before disappearing back into the house.

“Is it just me or did things just weird to really fucking weird?” Esme whispers to him as they sit side by side; their knees touching and his hand on the small of her back. 

It’s comforting. The simple brush of his body against hers and his familiar scent; filling her with a sense of security and effectively calming her nerves. He won’t leave her side now, making sure she’s always close enough to touch, never out ear shot and certainly not out of eyesight. His protective nature kicked in high gear. And for good reason.

“It’s not just you.”

“It’s like we’re living in the Twilight Zone,” she mutters, and then issues a long, shaky sigh.

“It’s okay,” he assures her, as he rubs the small of her back. “Everything’s going to be fine. The worst could have happened already. If she was working for the other side, she would have had guys here to ambush us the second we walked in.”

“How do you know they’re not hiding inside for the perfect moment?”

“Not a rookie, remember? You have to trust me,” he presses a kiss to the side of her head. . “Just trust me.”

She manages a small smile and leans into him. A hand resting on his thigh and his lips lingering against her temple; hand slipping off her hip and up onto her side, rubbing comfortingly. Selfishly he enjoys having this role in her life: the fierce and loyal protector. It’s an ego boost knowing that she has that much faith and trust in him. And he knows he’s more than capable of living up to her expectations; confident in his strength, skills, and abilities.

“I promise none of it has been tampered with,” Salena comments upon her return, noticing that their cups remain empty and the food hasn’t been disturbed. “As I said earlier, I’m not here to hurt either of you. Or your children.”

“So why are you here?” Esme asks, her hand slipping from Tyler’s thigh as he moves beside her; pouring himself a coffee and her a tea. “And why the big production? Why show up out of the blue and act as if you wanted to be friends? You could have just been honest right off the hop. You think it would have bothered either of us? This isn’t the first time someone has threatened us in the past seven years.”

“I know it isn’t. I know everything there is to know about the two of you. About everything that went down in Dhaka; start to finish. And I know about your little return there. About Mumbai and Ireland and New Zealand. Information is easy to get when you know the right people.”

“And when you’re willing to pay big for it,” Tyler adds. “Something tells me Nik Khan helped you out quite a bit.”

“Nik and I have a very good working relationship, “ Salena admits, and Esme gives a derisive snort. “I don’t approve of her transgressions. Or attempts at them. But as far as business goes, she’s one the best there is. And we trust her completely.”

“Who is we?” he inquires. “And who are you? Why don’t we just cut the shit and get down to it. You wanted us here to talk, so talk.”

“My name...my REAL name...is Allison Rav.”

“Rav?” Esme arches an eyebrow. “You’re related to Saju? How?”

“Related by marriage only. My husband...ex husband, I should say...is Saju’s youngest brother. Former special services as well. We parted on good terms and have remained friends. And business partners. After Saju died...correction, after he was murdered...Anil left the military and started things up; in Saju’s memory. A way of both honoring him and avenging him. This…” she lifts up one of the plates of food and removes a file folder -one of many- from underneath. “...is everything there is to know about it. About us. About who we are and what we do.”

She offers the file to Tyler and he accepts it; dropping it into the empty chair beside him. 

“Are you a mercenary?” Esme asks, her body and nerves starting to relax; comforted by the mention of Saju’s name and the woman’s connection to him.

“Far from it,” Allison gives a dry laugh. “None of our people are. We strictly provide security. We’re trained to assess potential threats and stop them before they happen. But we do seek out mercenaries; when things because too volatile and need...permanent...results.”

“When you want guys like me to go in and put our asses on the line and get blood on our hands.” Tyler smirks.

“Our area of expertise and concern is providing support to those being harassed and threatened by the Mahajans and the Amir Asifs of the world. And there’s a lot of them. So when Neysa contacted us and said that she was receiving threats of bodily harm and death against her and her son, we didn’t hesitate to help. We have her and Aarav in hiding. A safe house just outside of Mumbai.”

“You really think that’s smart?” he asks. “Being that close to Mahajan and his people? Doesn’t leave much room for error. Why not move them somewhere further away? Other side of the world if you had to. Doesn’t make sense for them to be that close.”

“It’s what she requested; to be close to home. We’’ move them when...and if...we have to. We ended up here..I ended up here...when Neysa ‘disappeared’ and Mahajan’s people lost track of her. That’s when he changed his game plan, so to speak. His first thought was that she came. What better place to hide them with someone who could protect her and Aarav if need be. The person who worked with Saju to get Ovi out of Dhaka alive. What a turn of events THAT was. He was supposed to eliminate you and in the end you worked together. Not what Mahajan expected.”

Tyler gives a tense smile. “How about we NOT talk about Dhaka.”

“Fair enough,” Allison agrees, and pours herself a cup of coffee. “When he thought she’d come here, we were ready. We already had eyes and ears on the situation. He hadn’t sent anyone here or sent out any official threats, but we knew it was going to happen. So we acted first and got here as soon as we could. But things ARE picking up. He is escalating things. This is a man hell bent on revenge and will stop at nothing to get it. You both know what these kinds of people are like. They don’t care if there’s a woman and children involved. They’ll be their first targets to get to who they really want.”

Esme issues a heavy, shaky sigh and Tyler gives her a small, reassuring smile; arm wrapping around her, palm softly and comfortingly rubbing her shoulder. “It’s been seven years,” she says. “Why now? Why wait all this time? And why Tyler? Mahajan gave us his son. So Ovi could be safe and have a normal life. A real family. Why would he let us have him if this was his plan all along?”

“There’s two reasons,” Allison replies. “The first is that Saju failed his mission. Yes, he helped get Ovi out of Dhaka. But he didn’t eliminate everyone standing in his way. He wasn’t supposed to leave anyone alive. You two survived. And I understand why he didn’t kill you; he would never harm a woman in that way. I’m sure he looked at you and thought of Neysa and realized he couldn’t go through with it. But you…” she looks at Tyler. “...you put up one hell of a fight. He didn’t expect that.”

“What’s the second thing?” Tyler asks.

“Did Ovi tell either of you that his father has been in contact with him? On a regular basis?”

Tyler frowns. “What?”

“Even behind bars, Mahajan still holds a lot of influence and power in the drug world. He has a lot of money stashed away in several offshore accounts. Enormous amounts of money. He needs someone to run the business now that it’s booming again. And what better person to be his successor than his only son? But that kid is tough. Resilient. He isn’t giving in. He wants nothing to do with that kind of life and isn’t afraid to tell his father that. Which naturally has enraged Mahajan. He’s taken it as a sign of disrespect. Dishonour. And he’s not going to let that slide. He feels the only thing standing in Ovi’s way...preventing him from doing it...is the two of you. But especially you.” she nods in Tyler’s direction. “He thinks Ovi is completely under your influence and is only saying no because of you.”

“I’m starting to finally see why he wants into the game so badly.” Tyler says to Esme. “It isn’t about the actual job or the money. It’s about being able to protect himself. And us if he has to.”

“That’s why he didn’t want to tell us,” she laments. “Or why he gave us such bullshit excuses. Because he knew he’d have to tell us that he’s been speaking to his father.”

Tyler nods.

“Mahajan wants the obstacle removed,” Allison continues. “He really just wants Tyler out of the picture; he’s the biggest hurdle and true threat. And it would be a way of righting Saju’s wrongs. That’s why we’re here. To prevent any of that from happening. We’re here to protect you. Not hurt you.”

“I’m more than capable of protecting my own family,” Tyler informs her. “I don’t trust just anyone with this. And I’m especially not going to trust you. You could have just told us all of this right from the beginning. Not put on some big, ridiculous show.”

“Neysa asked us to keep this quiet. She didn’t want to scare either of you. Or your kids. And now that you’re getting back into the mercenary business, there’s an even target on your back. Mahajan sees that as a direct threat.”

“He can take it whatever fucking way he wants. I don’t care if you and your people stay on the sidelines or keep in the background. But I’ll protect my own family. I’m more than capable of doing it and I know my wife and my kids trust me. They know I’ll keep them safe. Better than any of your people can.”

“He’s right,” Esme speaks up. “There’s no else I trust with my life. With my kids’ lives. And we’ve got people working for us that can always lend a hand if they need to. We don’t need perfect strangers fucking things up.”

“We’re highly trained,” Allison argues. “We’re more than capable of...”

“Tyler can do it. And that’s who I WANT doing it. I don’t care how highly trained you or your people are. No one can protect us the way he can. No one. And if that pisses you off and you pull your people out of here…”

“We’re not going anywhere. Neysa wants us here and this is where we’re saying.”

“I want to talk to your ex husband,” Tyler says. “There’s information I need. About who is working for Mahajan. Who these people are he has after us.”

“Anil expected you’d want to speak to him. That’d you have a lot of questions for him. All his contact information is in the first folder I gave you. There…” she pulls the other files from under the plate of food. “...are your files. Everything we have on the two of you. There’s also a file about Dhaka and everything that went down there. And one with copies of all the threats that have been made so far. To Neysa and to you. I trust this information will be in good hands?”

Tyler nods and accepts the folders, placing them with the initial one she’d given him.

“We kept this secret because that’s what Neysa wanted,” Allison explains. “She didn’t want to alarm anyone. So I HAD to put on a good show. I had to get myself into your life. I had to get close to all of you and you get you to open up to me and tell me things. And I know that you know what that’s like, Esme. Having to lie to people; fool them. Having to trick them into giving you what you want.”

“And my brother?” she asks. “What about him? You used him to get to us? He broke up his engagement for you. And all along you were just using him? Why did you have to stoop THAT low?”

“We do what we have to to get what we want. Kyle has no clue about any of this. I’d like to keep it that way. Because he’s a good guy and there’s feelings...legitimate feelings...involved now. On both sides. It started out as part of the job, but it’s become more. So much more.”

“Yeah…” Esme smirks. “...sure it has. Can we go now?” she addresses Tyler. “I really want to go. I’ve heard enough and I just want to get the hell out of here. I just want to go home.”

“We can go,” he confirms, and then gathers the folders off the chair and stands up. “I don’t want any of your people near my house,” he informs Allison. “I don’t want them watching me or my wife or my kids. Especially my kids. You tell them to back off. That I’m more than capable of protecting my own. Because if they get in the way and totally fuck things up? If that happens? You’ll end up a few employees short because I won’t hesitate taking them out too.”

Allison nods in confirmation, then stands as well. “We’ll continue to keep an eye on things. Just as Neysa asked. And if you need our help…”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he lays a protective hand on the small of his wife’s back. “I won’t.”


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: a touch of SMUT

“Learning anything new and exciting?”

He glances up from the file folder spread open in front of him, giving her a smile and a wink as she steps out onto the patio that sits off the master bedroom. Hair still damp from a shower and clad in one of his t-shirts. Even after six and a half years of living under the roof and despite her multitude of clothes that take up nearly all the dressers and three quarters of the closet, she still insists on wearing his things. Claiming they’re more comfortable and ‘roomy’; that being able to smell him...have him THAT close...helps her sleep better. Especially when he’s away on a job.

“Nothing says excitement like reliving the day you nearly died.” 

It has been easier than he thought it would be. The report Nik had typed out is clear and concise; simple and straight to the point. Bullet form. A minute by minute account of everything that went down on the Sultana Kamal Bridge; from the moment she and her team had arrived, until they’d successfully extracted Ovi. Nothing after that; no mention of her decision to leave them both on the bridge and that she’d had to be heavily persuaded to go back for them.

It’s disheartening; her refusal to to admit to her shitty decisions and her willingness to sacrifice two of her people. She’s shown no signs of true remorse for that day; knowing what would have happened if Asif’s people found them alive on that bridge. All the sick and twisted shit that he would have done to Esme over the course of a day. Or week. Maybe even months. Yet she simply didn’t care. 

“Key word being ‘nearly’,” she says, as she stands behind his chair, chin resting on his shoulder and her hands on his chest; palms slowly running down to his abs before sliding back up again. And she circles his neck with both arms and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Nearly died,” she stresses. “You didn’t. You made it out of there and that’s all that matters.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and kisses her softly. “Kids asleep?”

“The whole litter of them. Oldest to youngest. And why are you reading that anyway? Of all the files she gave you, it had to be the Dhaka one?”

“There’s still some things that are fuzzy for me. Things I still don’t remember after that little bastard shot me. There’s bits and pieces but none of them fit together. Some of them, I’m not even sure if they’re real or not or if they’re just what my brain has made up."

“Everything you need to know, I’ve already told you a thousand times. There’s nothing else, I swear. I wouldn’t keep anything back from you.” She reaches for the folder and pulls it closer; a frown creeping across her face as she studies the words. “Why is there such a huge chunk of things missing at the end? That…” she taps her fingernail against the paper. “...is NOT how things happened. Who wrote this?”

“Nik.”

“Oh color me surprised. I notice she left out the part when she tried to prevent anyone from helping you. Or how she lowered her gun and had she NOT and been covering you like she was SUPPOSED to, she probably would have seen Farhad and been able to take him out before he took you out.”

"You think that’s bad, go to page one and see what she said about us.”

“About us?”

“Dhaka us. The five days. Read it.”

“How bad is it?”

“Just check it out. It’s not as bad as it is amusing. Trust me. It even made ME laugh.”

“Don’t make me hate you for this.” she grumbles, and then picks up the report and retreats to the other side of the table; slipping into the chair across from him. Knee bent and foot on the seat, papers resting against her thigh, eyes widening and a smirk tugging at her lips as she reads the words in front of her. “We ‘engaged in ‘unprofessional and wholly inappropriate behaviour over the course of five days. Putting the mission in potential jeopardy. Both will be reprimanded’. Are you kidding me right now? We put the mission in jeopardy? How? We did everything we were sent there to do. Granted, we weren’t sent there to do each other, but…”

“I have to agree with the inappropriate part. There were a lot of inappropriate things a good girl like you let me do.”

“You’re going to complain about it seven years later?”

“I am not complaining. Far from it. When I have to resort to doing things on my own, it’s those five days I immediately think about. Especially when you begged me to fuck you up the a…”

“We don’t need to talk about it!” she interjects. “What is the one rule?”

“Throw dirty laundry in the hamper and don’t leave the toilet seat up.”

“Okay, that’s two and three. Number one is we don’t talk about THAT. If we do it, we don’t have to talk about it.”

He grins. “I don’t know how you can do it but be too embarrassed to talk about it.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense. Just follow the rule. That’s all I ask. And reprimand? Is she for real? What was she going to do about it? Fuck all. She was just bitter that she wasn’t getting dicked down for five days straight. And worried you weren’t going to call her up anymore for booty calls.”

“I would have called you up for booty calls instead.”

“What were you going to do? Fly all the way to Colorado to get laid?”

“If I had to. Or you could have come out here. I wouldn’t have argued.”

“Maybe I would have showed up and liked it...and you...so much that I decided to never leave. What then?”

“I would have let you stay.”

“Really…” she combs her fingers through her damp hair and then secures it in a ponytail with an elastic she sports on her wrist. “...you would have been fine with me just showing up on your doorstep?”

“As long as you gave me head when you got there. I wouldn’t have cared if you just decided to move in."

“I was not going to share the bathroom with a chicken."

“I would have put up walls and a door to keep her out. Just for you.”

Esme grins. “Now THAT’S love.”

“Or you just give head that good.”

“Well you haven’t had in issue with my technique in seven years so….” she places her other foot on the chair now, then tugs the bottom of the shirt over both knees. “...I think it’s safe to say you enjoy it.”

“You think? I think it’s pretty obvious I do. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“So THAT’S why you stick around. It has everything to do with how happy I make your dick and nothing to do with the fact you’re wildly and crazily in love with me.”

“My dick is happy,” he confirms. “Very happy. But sticking around has everything to do with me being wildly and crazily in love with you.”

“I knew it,” she grins. “I’m your favourite.”

“Yup,” he agrees with a slow nod. “You certainly are.”

****

A comfortable, companionable silence falls between them, and he turns his attention to the other folders in front of him. The information that has been dug up on them spans a little more than two decades; back to when he was graduating high school and she was just starting it. Everything and anything; what their grades were like, what kind of impression they made on teachers and fellow students, the extra curricular activities they were involved in. Starting when they were teenagers and stretching all the way until his departure from New Zealand. Nothing after that. Just a brief mention that they were both ‘retired’ and raising a family in Australia. Thankfully no mentions of the kids’ names or where they attend school. Had he seen THAT, there would have been hell to pay. 

“So are we going to talk about it?” Esme inquires. “The elephant in the room?”

“Which one?”

“The whole goddamn herd, I guess. Did you talk to Ovi?”

“I went over there when we got back and he was trashed. I guess he’s taking the breakup with Chloe a lot harder than he’s been letting on. And I’m not good with that sort of thing so I just said I was sorry and got the fuck out of there. He wasn’t in any shape to talk about his old man.”

“As sad as I am for him, I’m glad she’s gone. As soon as she started pressuring him about the job and engagement rings and planning a wedding, I knew he needed to get rid of her. He’s way too young to worry about all that crap.”

“Why worry about engagement rings and weddings when you get think about taking over your father’s drug empire.”

“He is way too smart for that. He saw the way his father ruined peoples’ lives; everything that happened in Dhaka happened because of him. If he hadn't been such a scumbag, none of that would have ever gone down. Asif never would have grabbed his kid and you never would have had to get involved and you never would have nearly died. Or had to go through months of hell afterwards and have the issues you do now.”

“You’ve forgotten one big thing. If there’d been no Dhaka, there'd be no us. We never would have met. None of our kids would be here. And despite what happened on that bridge, I’m actually glad Dhaka happen because I’m pretty fucking happy with the life I have now. I’d do it all again...including getting shot in the throat...if it meant I’d have you and my kids.”

“Baby…” she smiles. “...you have these moments where you are the cutest fucking thing on earth. And it’s nice to think about it that way, I guess. Normally I’m looking at all the shitty things Dhaka brought about. It’s kind of hard not to sometimes. It’s caused a lot of damage. To both of us.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“But…” she stretches out one of her legs and places her foot in his lap. “...I am glad that we met. Even if it was in a messed up way. Even if we did engage in…” she picks up the report once more and reads from it. “...’unprofessional and inappropriate behaviour’. What a bitch.” She drops the paper on the table and slides it towards him. “So what is this business? That Salena...ALLISON...is part of?”

“SA-RAV Enterprises. Everything reads exactly the way she described it. They’re a private security company specializing in neutralizing threats. And they don’t come cheap. Whoever they’re used to dealing with, they’ve got big money. A week’s worth of their help costs more than any payout I’d ever seen working for Nik.”

“Where would Neysa get that kind of money?”

“They’re probably doing her job for free. It’s owned and operated by her brother in law. No way she’d be able to afford what they charge. I don’t think they were that well off, were they? Saju was ex special forces, yeah? Probably was getting some kind of benefits plus whatever Mahajan was paying him. Which couldn’t have been much considering he had his assets frozen.”

“And speaking of Mahajan,” she fidgets with loose threads on the hem of the t-shirt. “What are we going to do about him?”

“WE, aren’t going to do anything.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. What are you YOU going to do about him?”

“You realize killing him won’t actually solve anything, right? That it will only make things worse? If I kill him, that will only piss his people off even more and it’ll make whatever they have planned a hundred times worse. Killing him does nothing.”

“He deserves to die.”

“I agree. But there’s other ways to go about getting rid of him that don't involve me being the one that does it. I do it and word gets out that it was me? Things will just escalate. And they’ll do even worse shit to you and the kids and that’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

“So what are you going to do? Do we just sit back and wait for them to come to us?”

“Hell no.”

“You still want to find out their names, don’t you. You still think that it would be better to go get to them first.”

Tyler nods.

“You’re going to just go and track them down and then what?”

“Kill them. Whichever way I have to.”

She gives a small sigh.

“What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s risky. I think it’s something you wouldn’t be able to pull off on your own. There could be three people, there could be thirteen, there could be thirty. At least tell me you’ve considered that. That you’re not going to do this alone.”

“I don’t know if it’s something I’m going to do at all. I need to think about it. I need to talk to Saju’s brother; see if he can find out exactly who these people are. And if he’ll even give me their names. He might just tell me to fuck off and to stay out of his shit.”

“But if he can get their names and you do decide to go ahead with it, at least tell me you won’t do it alone.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

“That’s not it. At all. I KNOW you can handle it. But I’d also feel a hundred times better if you weren’t by yourself. Because you know as well as I do how quickly things can go to shit and I’d rather someone there...having your back...if that happened. This doesn’t have to be a suicide mission, Tyler.”

“I know,” he squeezes her foot, then lays a hand on either side of it, rubbing his palms up and down. “And if it would make you feel better…”

“It would. It wouldn’t make me feel a lot better.”

“...then I’ll take someone with me. I’m going to need Ovi anyway. As a translator.”

“Whoa...whoa...whoa! When I said take someone with you, I meant someone with experience. Someone who’s been in the job before or at least in the military. He’s a kid.”

“He’s twenty.”

“He’s a kid,” she stresses. “And okay, fine, you need a translator. But you also need someone to have your back. Not someone who is going to piss his pants out of fear. There is no way he is capable of handling something like that. There’s not even enough time to properly train him now.”

“I have three weeks. At least. As long shit doesn’t hit the fan until then…”

“That is not enough time for Ovi and you know it. There has to be someone else. Someone that has actual experience. What about Koen? Or Rata? They were both SASR with you so you know what kind of soldiers they were. It would make more sense to talk to one of them with you.””

“They’ve been out of the military for a while,” Tyler reminds her. "They’d be kind of rusty.”

“At least they’d know what they’re doing. What about that Marine from Ireland? The one Mark brought along. Who got the kids out in the end.”

“Nathan.”

“What about him? He’s young, dependable, in good shape.”

Tyler grins. “You were checking out his ‘shape’?”

“Baby, I get to share a bed with you every night. I get to see you naked all the time. There’s no guy on earth that can compete with you. Have you seen your body lately?”

“I look at it from time to time.”

“Your one arm is bigger than both his thighs put together practically. I mean he’s in good physical condition and can handle the job. He doesn’t need any training. He’s ready and willing to just pack up and go whenever you call him. He already told you that. That’s who you should take with you.”

“We don’t even know if I’m going anywhere yet.”

“I can tell when your mind's made up about something, Tyler. I know you’ve pretty much made your decision and that this is what you’re going to do. And I also know it doesn’t matter what I say at this point. I won’t be able to change things.”

Sighing heavily, he leans back in his chair and rakes his hands through his hair, then runs his palms over his face. “I don’t want you hating me over this.”

“Why would I hate you? I could never hate you. If you feel this is what you have to do….”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he admits. “I can’t just sit back and wait for them to show up here. And killing Mahajan will do nothing but make things worse. If I can get to them before they get to us…”

“And if you can’t? If you’re over there and we’re here and they do get to us, what then? Then we’re here alone and you're thousands of miles away.”

“There’ll be people here. With you and the kids. I’m not going to leave you here alone. And you heard Salena or Allison or whatever the fuck her name is. Her people are keeping an eye on things. If they know there’s a threat coming, they’ll get you out of here. If they can put Neysa in a safe house, they can do it with you and the kids.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right? That this whole thing is insane? You’re going into Mumbai with a bounty on your head. Is that what you want? Every gun there will be pointed at you. How are you going to avoid that?”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, irritability creeping into his voice. “Do you want me to stay here and let them come to us? Or do you want me to go and take care of things before they get the chance to come here? What do you want from me? Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know,” she tearfully admits. “I don’t know what I want you to do. I just know that I want you to still be alive at the end of all this.”

“You have to trust me.”

“I do trust you. This isn’t about trust, Tyler. This is about not wanting to lose you. And don’t start with the whole ‘you’re strong, you’ll be fine without me’ crap. Just don’t. That’s not what I need to hear. Can I do it on my own? Of course I can. But I don’t want to. I don’t want a life that doesn’t include you. I don’t want to raise these kids by myself. I want to do it with you. Like we planned. And I want us to grow old and gray and miserable together and enjoy grandchildren and great grandchildren.”

“Great grandchildren? I’m not going to live to be a hundred and twenty.”

“I don’t want to do this alone. I need you. And our kids need you.”

“Which is why you need to trust me. You need to trust that I will do anything to come home. There’s nothing...no one...that can stop me from getting back to you and the kids. I am asking you to trust me.”

“I do. You know I do. You’re the only person I DO trust.”

“Waiting for things to go to shit is the wrong way to handle this. So unless you have a better idea…”

“I don’t. I honestly don’t. But can you at least wait two weeks? That’s all I’m asking of you. That you wait until after Millie’s birthday.”

“I already said I would. I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“And at least wait until you talk to Saju’s brother before you make your final decision? Because he must already have a plan to deal with these people that won’t involve you going to Mumbai. Can you do that for me? Just hold off on making a decision until then?”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.”

“I do,” she admits “And I love you so much for it. For so many things. And I’ll support you; no matter what. But I need you to come home. No matter what you have to do to get here.”

***

He takes his time worshipping her.

Soft, moist kisses that begin at the top of her feet and moving slowly up her legs; fingertips and calloused palms skimming along the backs of her calves and thighs. Each feathery press of his lips...each gentle nibble of teek and light suckle...igniting every nerve ending. Every inch of her body drawn tight; sweat beading on her goose bumped prickled sin, heart racing and her breathing ragged. One hand tightly gripping the edge of the pillow her head rests upon, the others clutching the sheets below. 

It’s rare for the pace to be this languid. Their style has always been been rough and almost furious; her enjoying his aggression and his no holds barred approach to fucking. Once he is into that ‘zone’...losing himself in the act and the way he is allowed to ‘manhandle’ her and speak to her...he is very much the Tyler he is while on the job. Edges raw and ragged, voice low and demanding, his tough tough and almost merciless. But these moments, when it is all about her pleasure and teasing her and edging her to the point she feels as if she can’t take anymore, are phenomenal. He’s always been a selfless and considerate lover; concerned more about her pleasure than his own. When she allows him to be this way..to take his time...the results are mind blowing; orgasms more intense and powerful and lasting longer. The kind that leave you completely and utterly spent afterwards; entire body trembling and tears streaming down her face. 

She cries out when he finally puts his mouth on her. Two of his fingers spreading those full, moist folds and his lips latching onto her clit; soft suckling and gentle grazing of teeth before his tongue take over. Long, slow licks alternating with more aggressive and hungry laps. One of her hands settles on the back of his head and the other reaches for his own, bringing it up to her breast. Rough palms and nimble fingers proceeding to caress and cup, pinch and twist. A powerful combination when paired. with that attentive tongue and two fingers that repeatedly thrust inside of her; stilling and easily finding that secret spot she’d always thought was a myth until -years ago- he’d proven otherwise. Bringing her to the very edge of completion before stopping entirely; listening to her mewls of disappointment as he uses the tip of his tongue to lick a long, lazy path from her clit to the to her lips. Pausing briefly to delve into her navel, then pulling back to blow a steady stream of hair onto the moistened spot before continuing his ascent to her mouth. Allowing her to taste herself on his lips and tongue, muffling her cry of pleasure when he pushes into her with one smooth, solid thrust; that initial moment of penetration almost enough to make her come. And he angles his hips just right; each forward movement causing friction against her clit.

Her hands explore the bulging, tense muscles of his shoulders and biceps as he bears his weight on outstretched arms; fingernails digging -almost painfully- into his forearms. A mixture of kisses are exchanged; soft pecks with short breaks in between, closed mouth open closed mouth, tongues frantic and needy. And her teeth capture his bottom lip when he pulls away; hard enough to break the skin and draw blood. His tongue sweeps away the crimson drops and he smirks, pulling out completely before driving back into her; a thrust so powerful that pushes her up the bed.

“More…” she pants. “...I need more.”

He understands; not needing further encouragement or instruction. An arm curling around her waist as he pulls out once more, effortlessly flipping her onto her stomach; one hand on either side of her head and her legs barely parted as he pushes back into her. Sucking and licking at her shoulders and the nape of her neck, marking the soft, pale flesh as his thrusts become stronger. Sweat drips from his forehead and the end of his nose; the drops splashing onto her skin and glistening in the moonlight that streams through the windows. Listening to her cries and moans and sighs of pleasure, slightly muffled by her pillow; seeing the way her fingers claw and dig at the sheets. And when her noises become louder and more insistent, he slides a hand between her and the mattress and rubs at her clit. 

When she comes she buries her face in the pillow. His name exploding from her mouth; chanting it over and over again like a well rehearsed prayer. Decreasing volume and urgency until it becomes nothing than a whisper. And with two thrusts he’s coming as well, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder and sucking at the tender, smooth skin; chest heaving, arms trembling, perspiration dripping as he empties himself inside of her. Murmuring into her hair that he loves her. That he’ll always love her. Only her. And that he’ll find a way back to her no matter what.

Afterwards they lie together; content and spent. Him on his back and her on her side; tucked securely into him, both of his arms around her slender body, as tight as she can possibly stand. He’s grown to love these moments after; the feel of her against him, the smell of her hair, her warm breath against his skin. He’d never taken the time before; no other woman in his life had warranted that level of attention and affection. Yet it’s always felt so normally with her. So natural. So comfortable. And his eyes are closed as her hand lazily slides up and down his side; from underneath his arm to his hip. A soft, soothing feeling that lasts several minutes before he feels her fingertips gliding over each rib and tracing his tattoo. The one he’d gotten in memory of his son many years before.

“It always feels so good,” she says, her voice sleepy, breath tickling his chest. “Being with you. Not just sex. Or love making. Or whatever you want to call it. But this. Afterwards.”

It’s always been one of his favourite moments, too. Holding her as they engage in quiet conversation; those whispered confessions and groggy laughs and good natured teasing. And he’d never thought he’d be that type; to indulge in the softer, more intimate moments after sex.

“I love the way they feel,” she continues. “Your arms. How they’re so big and so strong yet they’re so comfortable and warm all at the same time. It’s like they know when I’m in them. They know to be more soft and sweet.”

Tyler smiles at that, then drops a kiss on the top of her head. He supposes in a way that she’s right; that his body has become so accustomed to hers that he doesn’t even have to concentrate on being more gentle. It just happens.

“I remember that second night in Dhaka...after the first time we...you know…”

He grins. “Fucked?”

“If you feel the need to THAT crude about it.”

“There’s no other way of describing what happened. That’s exactly what we did. Four times.”

“Yeah…” she giggles. “I guess that is the most accurate description. But I remember waking up in the middle of the night and you were fast asleep and you had both arms around me and it felt so...I don’t know...perfect. I felt secure. Protected. Like you’d do anything to keep me safe.”

“I would have. Even then. Just like I would now.”

“I remember being worried you’d wake up and be embarrassed. That you were holding me like that.”

“Why would I have been embarrassed?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d done it in your sleep. Instinctively. That you didn’t actually MEAN to do it. So if you woke up, you’d be mortified that you got that close to me.”

“We were already naked in bed together. That’s pretty damn close.”

“I don’t mean in that way. I mean emotionally. There’s something emotional about it. Personal, even. THAT kind of intimacy. Anyone can fuck and just roll over and fall asleep afterwards. And I thought you’d wake up and and be like ‘what the fuck?’ and be grossed out by the idea of having ‘feels’ or developing ‘feels’ for someone you just met.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you overthink things?”

“My husband. At least twice a week, every week, for the last six and a half years.”

“He’s a smart man.”

“He is. A lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for. Definitely not just a pretty face.”

Grinning, he combs her fingers through her hair and presses his lips to her forehead. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh no,” Esme groans.

“It’s not bad. It’s about that night.”

“Okay…” her fingers move up to the tattoo on his collarbone, near his right shoulder. 

“I didn’t do it in my sleep. Holding you like that. I woke up and you were out like a light and your head was on my arm; it had fallen asleep and I couldn’t even feel it anymore. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. And honestly? I didn’t want to. So I just rolled over and put my other arm around you and went back to sleep. So it was intentional. I totally meant to do it.”

“Tyler Rake,” she grins up at him. “You big softy.”

“It felt..I dunno...good. It felt right. I liked having you there with me. In my bed. And not just sexually. But everything afterwards. Things I never stuck around long enough to experience with anyone else. I never wanted that. Until you came along.”

“And you say you’re not cute. You’re so cute it hurts.”

“You know I hate being called that right? With a passion. But I’ll let you have it this time.”

“Like you have a choice,” she teases, and presses a kiss to his lips. “And I’ve always loved your arms. Then, now, everything in between. They’ve changed and always felt different but same all at once. It’s the same with your body. It’s different now than it was then, but you still feel the same. You’re still you. Does that make sense?”

Tyler nods. “Same way your body’s changed yet it feels the same to me. It’s familiar. In a good way. A very good way.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, then kisses his cheek and nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose. Against the tattoo that resides there and the scar left behind from Dhaka. “I’m scared,” she admits.

“Of what?”

“That something will happen to you. That you won’t come back. At least not alive. And then I won’t get to feel this again; your arms around me.”

“Baby..” he pushes his hand through her hair, pecks the bridge of her nose. “...it’s okay.”

“And I’m sorry. For all the times I’ve not fully appreciated it; having your arms around me. Because I’ve just assumed they’d be there. That YOU’D be here. And I never meant to take them for granted. YOU for granted.”

“I have never...ever...felt like you did. Not once. In the seven years we’ve known each other.”

“But I’ve felt that way,” she tearfully confesses. “I’ve felt that I’ve taken you for granted. Just assuming you’d always be around. That I’d wake up in the mornings and you’d just be here.”

“And I will be here. I promise. I’m coming back. Nothing can stop me from coming home to you. Nothing.”

“I’d miss you. So much. Everything about you. The way you smile at me when you first wake in the morning; when your hair is messy and you’re still sleepy and kind of disoriented. And the way you laugh and the way your voice sounds. The way you smell and how sometimes you take my face in your hands when you kiss me. And how you let me stand on top of your feet so I can hug you back properly. All those little things that make you, you. I’d miss it all and I hate that there’s times I haven’t appreciated them. And I’m sorry. If I ever made you feel that. Like I didn’t appreciate you being in my life.”

“I have never...ever...felt like that,” Tyler assures her. “Not once in seven years.”

“And I’m sorry for those six months. I never should have let it drag on like that. But I was so hurt and so scared and I didn’t know what to do to help you and I couldn’t have that around the kids. Drinking THAT much and taking the Oxy and…”

“Esme...stop…” he gently places his hand on her throat; chin resting in the space between his thumb and forefinger, turning her face up towards him. “ I deserved that six months. I was a fucking mess, and you and the kids did NOT deserve to see that. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that’s sorry. That I wasn’t strong enough to stop that shit.That I wasn’t able to be the man you wanted me to be. That you NEEDED me to be.”

“You’ve always been that man, Tyler. Always.

“It’s going to be okay.. No matter what choice I make, no matter what happens, everything is going to be fine. WE’RE going to be fine. 

She sniffles. “You promise?”

“Want me to do a pinky promise like I do with Millie?”

She grins. “Just promise me and then kiss me. That’ll do .”

“I promise you,” he says, and then kisses her. Long and soft and sweet; her face gently cradled in the palms of his hands.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: SMUT. NSFW.
> 
> Huge thank you as always to @melmac for all of her love and support and all the awesome chats and brainstorming sessions <3 <3 <3

He wakes to the sound of rain and rolling thunder and the crashing of the waves as they pummel the shore. The storm has brought much cooler conditions; a much needed break from the oppressive heat and humidity that has blanketed Australia for weeks. The wind is strong; bringing with it the heavy smell of salt, the sound of rustling trees and the fluttering of curtains and the shuddering of windows. For several minutes he stays where he is; comfortable and content, flat on his back with his closed and a forearm resting across his forehead. Listening to the sounds of the storm and the soft, slow breathing coming from the warm, sleeping figure beside him. On her stomach with the comforter pulled up to the tops of her ears and and her feet sticking up at the bottom; her face turned towards him and her hair messy and falling over her eyes. 

Last night had been one of his better nights for sleep. Drifting off shortly after they’d made love for a second time; not hampered by pain in the shoulder or knee and waking up only once with the baby for a middle of the night feed. There’d been no dreams, thankfully. No vivid recollections of being a kid hiding in his bedroom closet, listening to his father beat on his mother. No visions of Austin -as a child or an adult- and Millie on the beach. No sounds of gunfire and explosions or the feel of a sniper’s bullet ripping through his back. Just a peaceful, deep sleep the likes of which he hasn’t experienced in years. At least not without the aid of a lot of booze and a handful of Oxy.

Esme stirs beside him; mumbling in her sleep and then rubbing her cheek against her pillow; a hand blindly reaching out for him and coming to rest on his collarbone. Counting the five days in Dhaka -and not including the months he’d spent in the hospital- they’ve been sharing a bed for seven years, yet he still spends a handful of minutes every morning watching as she sleeps. There’s something different about her beauty when she’s at rest; when her features are softer and no worry creases her brow and there’s always a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She seems more innocent. Fragile, even. As if the purity and the youthfulness returns with the temporary banishment of stress and turmoil. 

He moves onto his side, the movement causing her hand to slip from his collarbone and down onto his chest. Her eyes never opening or even twitching when he uses a fingertip to clear the hair away from her forehead, gently tucking it behind her ear. He’d always struggled with moments like these; even after it had become clear that he was in love with her and they’d gotten married and started a family. Always anxious...even self conscious...about allowing him to show that level of affection. To let his guard down and be vulnerable. Emotional, even. Years of having it drilled into his head that that isn’t how a man -a real man- behaves; they don’t allow themselves to be ‘soft’. Slowly she’d chipped away at the particular wall he’d built around himself, and over the course of their first year together he’d changed considerably; realizing it was okay to allow him to ‘feel’. That sometimes it was okay to think -and react- with just your heart. 

Millie’s birth had been the tipping point; breaking down in front of the doctor and nurses when his baby girl was placed in his arms for the first time. After that he’d no longer felt the need to hold back; comfortable with both saying -and showing- what he’s feeling. His wife is the only one he truly trusts. Without question or hesitation. Not just with his life, but his heart. Knowing that she won’t judge him for his weaker moments; not seeing him as ‘less of a man’ if he shows even the slightest bit of vulnerability. And not once causing him to question her faithfulness. Sarah had fucked him up; the constant lying and cheating. And he’s never thought he’d ever put that kind of trust and loyalty into another woman again.

He leans in to place his lips on her brow, then presses a series of feathery kisses against her face; over her eyebrows and against both eyes, down the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks and along her jaw. Their talk last night has unnerved him; forcing him to think about all the time he’s taking HER presence for granted. Those night he didn’t kiss her goodnight because she’d pissed him off about something stupid and trivial, the times he’d left the house following an argument and didn’t tell her that he loved her. Or when he’d let physical pain and and his PTSD issues get the better of him and he’d been irritable and off hand with her. And there’s so many little things that he’d miss if they suddenly ceased to exist. Her laugh and the sound of her voice and the little she gives when he wakes her up after she’s fallen asleep on the couch with her head in his lap. The familiar scent that clings to her hair and how soft and warm her hands always feel against his body; the way she always stands on the top of his feet to hug him because she truly believes that even that little bit of extra height makes a difference. And he can’t help but wonder if she ever feels that he’s taken her for granted; if he’s ever given her a reason to doubt just how much he appreciates her.

How much he loves her.

There’s so much uncertainty now; knowing there’s targets on their backs -more so his- and that legitimate threats have already been made. Even he can’t stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’. If something does go horribly wrong and he doesn’t make it home., Or worse yet, if Mahajan’s people do manage to get close enough that he loses her. He knows he wouldn’t be able to do it; raise five kids on his own. He’d be a broken man; turning back to alcohol and pain meds to numb the overwhelming pain and the agony of tremendous loss. He’d been broken; nothing more than a shell of his former self. And then he’d lose his kids too.

His lips press against hers and he feels her smile against her mouth; her hand sliding up his chest and over the side of his head and up onto the back of his head; fingers in his hair as she responds to the kiss. Long and slow and soft, followed by several light pecks and the exchange of sleepy smiles.

“I’m cold,” she murmurs, and slides closer to him; chest pressed against his and her head tucked under his chin.

“I got you,” he says, draping a leg over hers and then wrapping both arms around her; as tight as she can possibly stand. 

“That’s better,” she says, and he can feel her smile against his throat.

“You good?”

“Yeah…” she gives a content sigh. “...you’re so warm and you smell so good.”

“Haven’t showered since last night.”

“You smell like you. Like Tyler. And there’s no better smell in the world than that. You smell like a man. MY man.”

“All yours baby. I’m all yours.”

She smiles again and he feels the tickle of her lashes against his skin when she closes her eyes. Her hand settling briefly on his hip before sliding up over his rib cage and around to his back. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Pretty early, I think. Kids are still asleep.”

“Did you get up with the baby last night?”

“Just once. Around two. She’s been sleeping since.”

“She’s growing up.”

He grins. “She’s not even a month old yet and six pounds soaking wet.”

“She’s starting to change. She’s only getting up once a night now. And she’s getting longer and heavier. Maybe the newborn clothes will actually fit soon.”

“Maybe. She’s still a tiny little thing. I’m still afraid of hurting her when I pick her up. I’m not used to one THAT small.”

“You’re a good daddy. A VERY good daddy. You know what you’re doing. Did you sleep good?”

“I did, actually, No dreams.”

“That’s good,” she presses a kiss to his Adam’s apple. “I had a dream.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

Tyler grins. “Oh really…”

“Not THAT kind of dream. And not a Dhaka dream, either. Just a nice, somewhat normal dream.”

“Somewhat normal?”

“We met in a grocery store. In the produce section. And you had your old haircut and you were barefoot and you had on these low riding shorts and no shirt. I was buying cantaloupe and I had one in each hand and you said ‘nice melons’.”

He can’t but laugh at that, which in turn has her bursting into giggles.

“It was so cheesy but so charming at the same time. Because you said in that voice and with your accent and that makes everything that comes out of your mouth sound so sexy. So yeah...you said ‘nice melons’...and I gave you my phone number and that was it. We would have had crazy hot sex but you woke me up before things could get that far.”

“Why just dream about it when you can actually do it?”

“We had crazy hot sex twice last night.” She reminds him.

“There’s a rule we can’t have it in the morning too?”

“There’s no rule. But….”

“No buts. I don’t want to hear any buts. Only but I care about is this one..” his hands tightly grip her ass, fingers digging through the fabric of her pajama bottoms and into the soft, supple flesh. Pulling the bottom half of her body against his and letting her feel the state of his morning arousal.

She grins. “Almost forty one and you still wake up like that.”

“I’m a guy. I’ll wake up like this ‘til the day I die.”

“The kids are going to be up soon,” she says, but doesn’t protest when he reaches between them to undo the drawstring at the waist of her cotton bottoms..

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, as he sits back on his heels and yanks the pants down and off her legs, leaving them at the bottom of the bed.

“If I was to suggest that, you'd be offended.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do, yeah?”

“You’re very needy lately,” she teases.

“I have my reasons..”

He doesn’t want to tell her how scared he is. That he’s ’s fully aware of just HOW dangerous and complicated it will be going into Mumbai. Mahajan has placed an enormous bounty on his head, and his reach and influence extend far beyond what Amir Asif had had in Dhaka. He may be able to get away with killing off two of three of Mahajan’s ‘people’, but after that it would be open season on him; Mahajan will know exactly who is behind the kills and in turn will order for things to escalate. It will be hard to get around Mumbai without being spotted. And it won’t matter how many people he brings with him. The target on his back will only grow bigger.

“And what reasons are those?” she asks.

“Ever thought maybe I just love you? That I like having sex with my wife?”

“I think you’re very lucky to have a wife that loves you back and also likes having sex with you. And puts out as much as she does.”

“I definitely don’t take any of that for granted, trust me.”

He places a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other; palms on her knees as he pushes her legs further apart. Lips pressing against each juncture of where thigh meets hip, then moving up her body; hands lifting the bottom of her t-shirt. Pace quicker than the night before as he kisses, licks, and sucks all the way to her mouth. Tongue impatiently pushing past her teeth; calloused palms cupping and massaging her breasts, strong fingers plucking and toying with the painfully hard nipples.

“Get on top,” Tyler gently orders, gripping her hips as he rolls onto his back; one hand moving down to her ass while the other slips up the front of her t-shirt to fondle her breasts.

“You giving up control?” Esme grins, as she kneels between his splayed thighs. “This doesn’t happen often.”

“You better enjoy it while you can. Might be another seven years before it happens again.”

“We’ll see about that.” Her fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers, tips soft and teasing as they glide against his skin as she pulls them down. Grinning..almost victoriously...as a hiss escapes his lips when her nails dig painfully into the cheeks of his ass. “What?” she teases. “All of a sudden Tyler Rake can’t handle a little bit of pain? You of all people?”

“I’m about five seconds away from throwing you down and spanking your ass.”

“Promises, promises.” She leans down to place a trail of kisses along his pubic bone and then lower; lips grazing against the inside of one thigh before sucking and biting at the flesh. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathes, and bite down particularly hard on one spot, causing him to flinch. “...so...so...so beautiful…” She speaks between kisses to the juncture between hip and thigh, tips of her fingers skimming along one side of his cock. A sly grin on her face and her eyes locked on his when she swipes her thumb across the head and proceeds to lick off the precum.

“Get up here.” he breathlessly demands. 

“You don’t want me to..”

“I said get up here,” he orders, pushing a hand through her hair and dripping tightly, gently yanking at it and urging her to do as she’s told.

“You’re very bossy this morning.” she chides, her eyes focused on his wide, dilated pupils and flushed cheeks and the sweat that glistens on his forehead. Her top teeth digging into her bottom lip as his fingers bite into her hips as he assists her in straddling him; sighing as she feels his length running along her slick folds.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” he growls, a low groan rumbling deep within his chest when her hand wraps around his cock to position it at her entrance. Hands moving from her hips to her ass; tightly gripping it as she lowers herself onto him, both of her hands on his chest for support. His eyes closing and his head tipping back at the sensation; her tightness and her moist heat. It’s so familiar yet still feels incredible each and every time he gets the chance to be inside of her.

“So good…” she whimpers, his face in her hands as she leans down to kiss him; breasts flattened against him, one of his hands sliding over her ass and up underneath the back of her shirt. “..you feel so good, Tyler. You’ve always felt so good.”

He grips her ass painfully tight and his short nails rake against her back as he slips his tongue past her teeth; the kiss hungry and aggressive as his hips lift off the bed, pushing further inside of her. And she gasps into his mouth, the feeling of him being so deep inside of her is almost overwhelming and too much to take; filling her like no man before him ever had. He moves his hands from her back to her front; palms cradling and fondling her breasts and fingers teasing and playing with her nipples as she begins to move. Slowly and patiently rocking into him at first; eyes never leaving us, her hands planted firmly on his chest. Tyler can’t stop watching her; transfixed by those hooded eyes and her flushed cheeks and the way her hands tumbles down the sides of her face and over her shoulders. And he groans when she allows his cock to slip completely out of her, only for her to sink back down again in one quick movement. His hands becoming rougher as her movements pick up pace; squeezing and pawing at her breasts, pinching and pulling at the sensitive nipples. Knowing exactly what she needs...what she wants..to bring her closer to the edge.

“Tyler…” she whispers, head falling onto his shoulder, nails dragging down his side. “...make me come...please make me come.”

“Look at me,” he manages through harsh, ragged breaths. “I want you to look at me. I want to watch you come.”

Her head lifts and her eyes flicker open; a slight blush creeps into her already flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed, babe,” he says. “Never be embarrassed with me. Keep your eyes open and look at me the whole time.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can. It’s okay. I love you and there’s no reason for you to ever be embarrassed with me.” He reaches up to cradle the side of her face in his palm, lifting his hips to encourage her to keep moving. “It’s okay, Esme,” his tone is gentle. Soothing. “I got you.”

His confidence in her sparks her own. Her chest heaving and soft, breathy sighs and moans begin to tumble from her lips as she rides him harder and faster. His one hand still on the side of her face; soft and loving, his thumb caressing her cheek and under her eyes and brushes over her lips and chin. A startling contrast to his other hand; rough and aggressive against her skin.

“You close?” he asks, and when she manages a feeble nod, he removes his hand from under her shirt and places his palm against her lower stomach; thumb pushing through her folds and finding her clit. Pressing against it and firmly rubbing at it until she’s coming undone. Her eyes dark and wild and her face flushed, entire body trembling; his name leaving her lips in a strangle cry as she struggles to keep the volume down. “You’re so beautiful,” he praises. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

He gathers her in both arms and pulls her down into him; kissing her deeply as his body takes over; those few trusts rough and punishing as he loses control. Her name and a slew of profanities slipping from his mouth as he empties himself deep inside of her. And her body goes completely slack against his; her face buried in the space between his neck and shoulder. His heavy, uneven breath tickling her skin and fluttering her hair. 

“I love you,” he breathes. “I love you so much and I don’t want to lose you.”

“I love you, Tyler,” she says in return, lips against the side of his neck. “Tell me it’s going to be okay. That WE’RE going to be okay.”

“We’re going to be fine.” he assures her, and presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “I promise.”

****

Addie is the first to wake; her incessant crying filtering through the baby monitor speaker that’s kept in the nightstand next to his side of the bed. Groaning loudly, he untangles himself from a mixture of sweaty limbs and sweat dampened sheets. Careful not to wake his wife as he gingerly removes both her arm and head from his chest; gently placing the latter upon her pillow before sliding out of bed. Wincing when the simple act of pulling on a pair of sweats causes immediate pain in the small of his back. The arthritis is getting worse; a deep ache that seems to travel straight through into the bone. No amount of over the counter medication takes the edge off anymore, and he briefly considers trying to hunt down someone...anyone..that can get him something strong. Not necessarily Oxy; he’s determined to NOT go down that road again. But something at least equivalent to it. The doctor will be of no help; his addiction no secret. 

All thoughts of pain meds and other vices disappear when he hears the rustling of sheets and Esme's soft voice behind him.

“Tyler…” she lifts her head from her pillow; so cute when her hair is messy and she’s completely disoriented. “...do you want me to get her?”

“I’m already on it. Go back to sleep, baby.”

He waits by the side of the bed until she settles and proceeds to draw the comforter up past her shoulders; tucking it tightly around her and then placing a kiss to her cheek before leaving the room.

***

Ovi sits at the kitchen table; hair mussed and eyes blurry, a massive bowl of Lucky Charms cereal and a glass of orange juice in front of him. And he manages a smile that comes across as pained and miserable.

Tyler knows a wicked hangover when he sees it.

“You look like shit,'' he comments, Addie laying stomach down along one of his forearms as he grabs a bottle of formula from the fridge. It’s been almost six years of daddy duty and things are routine now; able to do them in his sleep if he had to. Boiling water in the kettle and pouring it into a measuring cup and letting the bottle sit in it for no less than a minute.

Even at three weeks she’s incredibly picky. And demanding. Already taking after her older sister. 

“I FEEL like shit,” Ovi grumbles.

“You were already pretty trashed when I stopped by. Did you give up after that or…”

“Drank until I puked. Then drank some more.”

“I remember those days,” Tyler smirks. “Trust me when I say no pussy is worth that.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if Esme left you,” Ovi counters. “You’d probably go on a week-long bender.”

“Probably a month. If not more. But there’s a huge difference. That’s my wife. Not just some girl I’m playing house with. Little worse I think if my wife and mother of my kids took off.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. She’s never going to leave you. No matter how bad you fuck up. All the times you messed up and she still sticks around. She even took you back when shit got really bad. For some reason.”

“Maybe because she’s a grown ass woman and not some little girl. Maybe because she actually loves me. And maybe because three years and three kids with one another means a hell of a lot more than the six months you spent with Chloe. Don’t even compare the two, mate. They’re not even close. Alright, calm down,” he addresses Addie now, as he plucks the bottle from the boiled water and vigorously shakes it; dripping some of the formula into his mouth to test the temperature. “It’s coming, I promise, Don’t freak out now. Don’t be such a drama queen. You’re not gonna starve. You’re getting more like Millie every day.”

“Knee?” Ovi asks, noticing the wince and the sharp intake of breath when Tyler sinks into the chair across from him.

“Knee. Back. My whole fucking body.” He adjusts Addie’s position on his arm; laying her on her back with her head tucked into the crook of his elbow, then offering her the bottle. A smile curving his lips as he looks down at her; those huge dark eyes focused intently on him, her hand coming up to rest on his and her entire fist closing around one of his fingers. It’s been three weeks and he still can’t get over just how small she is; much daintier and more fragile than all the others had been. 

“Daddy’s girl already,” Ovi remarks.

“I think so. Her big sister must be rubbing off on her.”

“It’s always a little weird when I see you doing dad things,” Ovi admits. “Even after all this time. Because I still remember what you were like in Dhaka. And then I see you like this...with a baby...especially a little girl..and it doesn’t seem like those two guys are even the same person.”

“‘Cause they’re not. I’m not the same person I was back then. Far from it.”

“Maybe not in some ways. But in other ways you still are. You’re still Tyler.”

“Old Tyler, new Tyler,” he muses. “That’s what Esme calls them. I like to think I’m more new Tyler, but to be honest, these days I’m not so sure anymore. I’m starting to feel more and more like the old one again. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

“Getting back into the job, you mean?”

“It’s gone way past just getting back into the job and starting my own business. We’re so far past that.”

Ovi’s head cocks to the side, a quizzical look on his face.

“When were you going to tell me about your old man?” Tyler asks. “That you’ve been talking to him?”

The younger man’s eyes widen in surprise. Maybe even a little fear.

“You weren't going to tell me, were you. You had no intention of telling me.”

“I thought I could handle things,” Ovi feebly explains.

“On your own?”

He nods.

“Didn’t handle things so well seven years ago, did you? When you were so scared you pissed your pants. When you shot Gaspar and cried to me about wanting me to go home. You know who put you in that mess? Who put ME in it? Who got Esme mixed up in it? Your old man. That’s how much he loves you and respects you. Couldn’t even stay on the straight and narrow for his own kid.”

“I know that. I know ALL of that. I know what kind of person he is.”

“Wouldn’t take no for an answer, would he. No matter how many times you said it. He can’t handle the fact that you want nothing to do with him or his business.”

“I DON’T want anything to do with it. That’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to be.”

Tyler’s eyes remained focused on the baby happily feeding; her gaze still on him, her fist holding his finger as tightly as it can. He knows he can stay calm if he just looks at her; at that dark hair and the look of trust and adoration she has for him. Even the purple, pink, and yellow stripes on her sleeper. If he concentrates on all of that, he knows he can keep it together. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“I didn’t want you getting involved,” Ovi replies. “There were so many other things going on. Esme was just getting ready to have the baby and things were stressful and you were worried about them and…”

“You should have told me,” Tyler insists. “We could have stopped it before it got as far as it has. Did he threaten me too? Did he say anything? About me? About my wife and my kids?”

“How do you know all of this? How…?”

“Did he? Mention my wife and kids?”

“He was angry, That I wouldn't go back to Mumbai and take things over. He blamed it on you. Said that you had brainwashed me into into hating him. Into disrespecting him. And that if you weren't careful, you’d pay for it. Because he knows how to hurt a man where it hurts the most.”

“He say anything else about them? About my family?”

“Just that if you didn’t watch your step, they’d be the ones to pay the price.”

Tyler gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me this? That he was threatening my wife and my kids?”

“I thought I could handle it another way. That I could get into the job and then I’d be able to protect myself. And you guys, My family.”

“That is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a kid.”

I’m twenty,” Ovi argues.

“You’re a kid,” Tyler stresses. “That is my wife and my kids your old man is threatening. And I would do anything to protect them. No question asked. And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me about all of this?”

“I thought I could handle it. Especially once Nik got on board and…”

“Oh fuck Nik,” Tyler snarls. “Who gives a shit about Nik. This is my family your father’s threatening. Not Nik’s. And you should have told me. Not her. Because now the shit is really hitting the fan and things are fucked up and if anyone gets near Esme and my kid because of your old man…”

“I think it’s just threats. Harmless one. To scare you.”

“There’s nothing harmless about them. They’re legit. They’re the real deal. You know the next door neighbour?”

“Salena? What about her? What…?”

“Her name isn’t Salena. It’s Allison. Allison Rav.”

Ovi frowns. “She’s related to Saju? How?”

“She was married to his youngest brother. They started a private security company. To honour Saju and the absolute fucking disaster he got dragged into. Your father threatened his family, too. Did you know that?”

Ovi nods.

“Seems to be his thing. Threatening a man’s family. Seven years later and he’s still after Neysa and Aarav.”

“What? Why?”

“Revenge. Saju didn’t complete his mission. Not all of it, anyway. And now her and the kid are in hiding and your old man’s people can’t find them. They’re pissed. So guess who they’re going to take it out on?”

“You?”

“Not just me, mate. Esme, The kids. It could be today, it could be tomorrow. Could be a week. Maybe even a month from now. I’ve got a big fucking target on my back and they’re going to come for my family first. Because they know that will break me. They know my family is my weakness. And they won’t stop until my wife and my kids are dead.”

“So what are you going to do?” Ovi asks. “What…?”

“It’s what WE’RE going to do. Me and you and Nathan. That ex Marine I told you about. We’re going to Mumbai.”

“No,” Ovi vigorously shakes his head. “No. I’m not going there. I’m not going back. I won’t go there.”

“You ARE going. Even if I have to drag your ass onto the plane. You let things get this far. It didn’t need to get worse. If you'd told me right from the start, I could have stopped things before they got worse. But now it’s a regular goddamn dumpster fire. You got me into this mess, you’re going to help get me out of it. Understand me?”

“I can’t,” Ovi insists. “I can’t go there. I can’t.”

“You’re going. There’s no way out of this. You fucked up. You put my wife and my kids in danger. You put this target on my back. Now you’re going to help straighten this shit out. You think I’m just going to sit back and let these people come here? Think I’m just going to wait for them? Fuck that. I’m going to hunt them down. Every single last one. And I’m going to put a bullet in each of their heads. And your old man is the last one on my list.”

Ovi blinks. “You’re going to kill him?”

“You going to stand in my way?” Tyler retorts. “Because if you even try to stop me…”

His voice trails off at the sound of little feet rushing down the stairs. Accompanied by boisterous chattering and giggling from the three oldest and Declan’s broken speech and ear piercing shrieks; a tired sounding Esme begging them ‘turn it down a notch,” And soon they’re flooding into the kitchen; little arms wrapping around his neck and kisses being pressed to his cheeks and their ‘good morning daddy’ in those tiny voices. Always happy to see him. Even if it’s only been ten hours since he tucked them into bed. Always trusting that he’ll be there. Never worrying they’ll come downstairs and find his chair empty.

“Good morning.” Esme places her hands on his shoulder and kisses his temple. “Everything okay? You guys look pretty serious.”

“Just having a little chat,” Tyler says. “About what we talked about last night.”

“Not right now, please, Not with the kids here. They don’t know about any of this. Normal, remember? We need to keep things normal for them.”

He nods in agreement, and she pecks his cheek and tousles his hair before heading to help the kids with preparing the Sunday morning family breakfast.

“You won’t stop me,” Tyler says to Ovi. Voice low. Menacing. “You CAN’T stop me. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t even try.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: talk of mental health issues, vague mention of suicidal thoughts

She stands in the doorway that leads from the house into the garage, watching him as he works. Just three hours ago those hands -so big and strong, calloused and scarred, powerful- had been patiently and gently braiding his little girl’s pigtails; securing them with ribbons. Now they inspect a variety of automatic and semi-automatic weapons; stripping them down, cleaning every individual piece, then expertly putting them back together. His movements are methodical and efficient; never hesitating, never second guessing, just fluid, effortless motions of a man with years of experience behind him. 

It’s been years since she’s seen him THIS intense. A level that only comes with the game; memories of past jobs and the things he’s had to do to survive and the knowledge that he’ll have to resort to them in the near future. His lips set in a thin, stern line and his brow furrowed with both concentration and worry; eyes dark and focused. Haunted, even. A man whose fractured and tattered brain holds very vivid recollections of the things he’s seen and heard. Whose hands know what it’s like to take the lives of others; whether through hand to hand combat or with the squeeze of a trigger. It isn’t an easy thing to do; even when your own life is in danger. You always wish there’s another choice; one that won’t result in bloodshed and death. You kill out of necessity, not desire or enjoyment. Not because you thrive on the snapping of bones or the sight and full of someone else’s blood covering your hands and body. Not because you ‘get off’ on the sick thrill of watching someone take their last breaths; seeing hope and then life drain from their eyes. You do it because if the shoe were on the other foot, they’d be rejoicing in your demise.

There ARE mercs like that; who have become accustomed to killing. Desensitized. Physically and mentally enjoying the brutality and the finality. She’s witnessed it first hand; those that brag about their kills (the more gruesome the better) while their eyes glitter with victory and excitement. But that’s not Tyler. It never has been. The reputation of a merciless, savage, stone killed killer being built upon hearsay and other peoples’ expectations on what he SHOULD be like. She’d known he was different right from the start; the moment she’d stepped foot into that shack in the outback and actually engaged laid eyes on him and engaged with him. She’d gone into that meeting with that reputation and all the gossip and stories fresh in her mind; preconceived thoughts and opinions that had initially clouded her judgment. She’d been surprised -pleasantly- to discover he wasn’t what other peoples’ running mouths had put into her mind. Much younger than expected. Far more attractive. With those blue eyes that held so many regrets and so much pain. Guilt. Even. So troubled and haunted; a man with deep, buried trauma and secrets. And she’d been the fortunate one; who’d gotten him to open up and let his guard down. Who’d helped him learn to trust -and more importantly, to love- again.

This is the old Tyler. The one standing in front of her now. The one that’s focused on the job and everything that comes with it. His personality is different; closed off, irritable, unapproachable. Yet she knows how to deal with it. With HIM. She’s walked on the particular batch of thin ice before; learning how to take the extra ‘edginess’ that creeps into his voice, the up and down moods that encompass everything pure and utter calm to volatile rage. She’s the one person who can engage with him during those moments. Confident that he’d never do or say anything to intentionally hurt her. It’s the nature of the beast. That bad that comes with such an unpredictable and dangerous existence.

“Is it okay to come in?” she asks. And when he looks up and glances towards her, she notices how his features momentarily soften; the creases on his brow disappearing, eyes lightening, a small smile curving his lips.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re just so into it. I didn’t want to bother you. Or get in the way.”

“Babe, you could never bother me. You know that.” 

His words -and the obvious change in tone and demeanour- help quell her own anxiety and frayed nerves. It’s been a hell of a forty eight hours. The last half being especially stressful; ews of more threats and the upcoming arrival of Saju’s brother (who’d insisted that the only safe way to speak was to do so face to face) and both Nathan and Koen planning on coming to temporarily bunk with Ovi in the guest house. It’s just too much, too soon. And trying to fake ‘normalcy’ for the sake of children is not an easy thing; exhausting both physically and mentally.

“I come bearing gifts,” she says as she walks through the garage, the cement floor cool against the bottom of her feet. In one hand she holds a plate of food; filled to the edges with reheated leftovers from last night, in the other a bottle of water. “You haven’t eaten much since yesterday and I know how you get when you don’t fuel up properly. Where do you think Millie gets her ‘hangriness’ from?”

“That’s all you.”

“Please. You get so bitchy and ragey. And I don’t want to put up with that, so…” she offers him the plate. “...eat. Please. You can’t run on an empty tank.”

“You worry too much.”

“So? I worry. It’s what I do. You think you’d be used to it by now. Humour me, okay? I’m trying to take care of you here. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re not. But you ARE my husband and I love you and I just want to baby you sometimes. So swallow some of that pride and toxic masculinity and let me do it. Stop being so difficult, Tyler James.”

He smirks at her use of his full name. “You’re stubborn.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. And I’ve known a lot of stubborn people. I’m trying to take care of you. It’s who I am. Do you want to make me cry?”

“Never.”

“Then shut the fuck up and eat something.”

“You know what..” a slow grin spreads across his face. “...you’re a pain in my ass.”

“It’s a very nice ass, though.” she praises, and he lays a hand on the small of her back and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah? Well yours isn’t half bad either,” he says, his hand sliding down to tightly grip one of the cheeks through the fabric of her shorts; pinching lightly as he kisses her. Long and slow and soft; her body rising up onto her tip toes and then leaning into his. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want you to ever say I don’t do nice things for you,” she teases. “I swear if I hear one negative out of you…”

“I’ll be nice,” Tyler promises, and then takes the plate of food from her. “You do spoil me. I’ll give you that. You good?”

“I’ve had better days,” she admits. “I’m a little...on edge. This is all happening so fast and it feels like I can’t even catch my breath. And then I see you in here doing this…” she nods in the direction of the table filled with weapons and plastic containers packed with various supplies scattered about. “...I didn’t think this would all happen so soon. It’s a little...overwhelming.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t have to.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you at all. It’s a messed up situation all around. And I know you’re just trying to protect us and I love you so much for that. I do. It just hurts. Watching you like this. Seeing the Old Tyler come back.”

He gives a nod in response, both brows arched.

“Not that I don’t love that Tyler because that’s the Tyler I fell in love with in the first place. It’s just scary. Thinking of you getting back into things.”

“You’re worried that new Tyler won’t come back.”

“A little, I guess. It’s okay with them both hanging around. But I don’t I’m ready to deal with just the old one. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But it’s how I feel.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures her, as his hands move to her side and he places a kiss on her temple. “He’ll come back. I promise.”

“Let’s just concentrate on what’s right in front of us,” she suggests, attempting to be more cheerful. “We have our weekend coming up and then Millie’s birthday. Normal stuff. I need that right now. Normal. Our version of normal, at least.”

Tyler nods in agreement; kissing her once more before giving her ass a final squeeze and a light tap before carrying the plate of food to the work table across the room and perching himself on the edge. He watches her as he eats. The way she slowly circles the table, eyes thoroughly scanning the various weapons; some cleaned and complete, others still in pieces. Old habits die hard, no matter how many times you attempt to kill them off. This had been very much her life as well; time in the corps, time on the job. Their skill sets vastly different; her the brains behind a mission, him the brawn. But it’s still ingrained in both of them. And it fills him with both a sense of pride and sadness. Proud how strong and intelligent and resilient she is; knowing what she’s capable of and all the people she’s helped rid the world of and the lives she’s had a hand in saving. But also disheartened that she even HAS to revisit her former existence. She’d been more than willing to give it up, content in her decision to be a wife and a mother and concentrating solely on those things. And now her old self is making an appearance and he absolutely hates that for her. That she even has to think about anything job related, never mind the threats that have been made towards not only them, but their children.

“I don’t know who the guy is that gave you these things, but he is no rookie,” Esme comments. “It’s quantity AND quality. I don’t know I want to know how much you shelled out for all of this.”

“He owed me. A huge debt I could have collected on over the years but never did. So this is how he paid up.”

“Someone you were supposed to kill?”

“Something like that. People wanted him to suffer. Thought it made more sense to keep him in one piece.”

“Good call. He’s obviously a guy you want on your team. There’s more where these came from?”

“If I need more I just have to ask. That’ll cost me though.”

“How much?”

Tyler shrugs. “Haven’t discussed stuff like that yet. I thought you wanted normal. Because this...you...not normal.”

“This used to be. Normal,” she reasons. “The normal me.”

“It doesn’t have to be anymore.”

“It’s just kind of hard not to fall back into old habits. I figured as soon as you decided to get into it..to start a business...some of it might come back.”

“It doesn’t have to come back for you,” he points out.

“We’re a team, remember? Partners. Not just in marriage and being parents. In everything.”

Her fingertips skim over the barrel of an automatic rifle and he sees the look in her eyes; one he’s recognized some days when he glances in the mirror. The look of someone who has seen too much. Things a regular person can’t even begin to comprehend. 

“What you take on, I take on.” she says.

“It doesn’t have to be that away.”

“It SHOULD be that way,” she argues, then sighs heavily and yanks her hand away from the gun, as if it’s dangerously hot to the touch and has scalded her skin. “Is it okay?” she asks, and then forces herself away from the table, nervously wringing her hands together. “The food?”

“It’s perfect. Didn’t realize I was this hungry. Thank you. You’re a good little wife.”

She sidles up next to him, placing the bottle on the table and leaning stomach first against the edge. “I try. That’s what matters right?”

“Baby, you do more than try. You get shit done.”

She gives a small smile, “You think they’ll be okay?” she asks, as her fingers absentmindedly pick at the label on the bottle of water. “The kids? While we’re gone?”

“We’ll only be gone three days.”

“It only takes a second for things to go to shit.”

“It’s not like we’re leaving them alone to fend for themselves. Ovi will be here. Nathan, Koen. The neighbor and her people have their eyes and ears on things. They’re in good hands. I’d be the first to say you’re not going if I thought otherwise.”

“It’s the first time leaving Addie for even an hour,” Esme frets. “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous about it. It’s not like she’s my first.”

“You’re a mom. Moms worry about their babies. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the last. It’ll be okay. THEY’LL be okay. We’ve got good people taking care of them. I wouldn’t leave them with just anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You don’t even like leaving me with just anyone and I’m an adult.”

“And we need this. Some time away. Just us.”

Esme nods in agreement. “You realize we haven’t been anywhere together...without kids...in seven years?”

“We were in Dhaka,” he teases.

“Dhaka does NOT count. We didn’t even really know each other then. And no, Tyler. Knowing someone’s favourite sexual position and where their G spot is does NOT count as knowing them. Regardless of what you think.”

“We went away for the weekend after we got married,” he reminds her. “To Byron Bay.”

“I was pregnant with Millie so technically we weren’t alone.”

“Still acted like honeymooners though.” he grins. “Even with a baby in you.”

“We still act that way,” she laughs. “And it’s been six and a half years since we got married.”

“Six and a half? Feels like sixty,” he chides.

She frowns. 

“I’m teasing,” he says, and leans in to kiss her. “That's a good thing though, yeah? That we still want to fuck each other as bad as we do?”

“It’s flattering. I mean, I’m not exactly the same person I was when we first met. I definitely don't look the same.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you just get better with age,” she laments. “I just get worse and worse every day. I’ve just become more of a mes. And not a hot one either.”

“Stop. Stop talking like that. I fucking hate when you do that. I wish you could just see yourself the way I see you; if you just saw yourself for one second through my eyes. And maybe you’re right. Maybe it does make me biased because I think you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. Because I think you’re cute and sexy and everything and anything in between. But it doesn't make it less true. I wish you’d stop tearing yourself down like that. Because it fucking kills me inside and I don’t know what more I can do or say to make you see yourself like I do.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits, her voice trembling, eyes welling with tears. “I just haven’t been ‘right’ in what seems like forever. Since before Addie was born. Maybe even before Declan. I thought maybe it was just postpartum and that it wouldn’t go away on its own. But now I realize it’s been there and it’s getting worse and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop talking like that.”

“But there is though.” Esme insists. “There’s something wrong. I don’t know what is; I just know it’s there. It’s always been there. Just sometimes it doesn’t bother me and other days it does but I just cope with it and deal. I don’t know what it is or how to stop it and just feels like it’s choking me and it’s trying to take over. And I don’t want it to take over.”

Placing the nearly empty plate of food beside him, he reaches out and lays a hand on the back of her head. Drawing her into him; spreading his thighs as she stands between them, her head coming to rest on his chest. He doesn’t know what to say. If she even wants him to say anything. So he opts for silence. One hand still on her head, the other on the small of her back; securely holding her place, feeling the way her hands tightly grip the back of his shirt. 

“And it’s not you,” she speaks through tears. “I know you’re thinking it is. That it’s you and it’s getting back onto the job and all the stuff with Mahajan and the neighbour and all of that.”

“It doesn’t help.”

“But it’s not that. And it’s not you. You’re the only thing that feels right and makes sense any more. It’s like there’s something or someone sitting on my chest and squeezing my heart and it just keeps getting tighter and tighter and I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m drowning and I can’t save myself. Or maybe I just want to save myself. Maybe I just want to take over and then I don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that.” It’s a plea; raw and emotional. Torn apart inside by hearing those words come out of her mouth; feeling the tears that soak straight through his shirt. 

He’s been there. That deep, dark place that threatens to swallow you whole. You know you should be fighting like hell to scratch and crawl your way out of it, yet it seems so much easier to give in and let it take you. It’s tiring: physically and emotionally. All you want is relief. Even if it is permanent. But to hear her talk that? The one person who’d crawled into that dark place with him and helped him out of it? It’s a pain like he’s ever felt before.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I can’t battle my own mind like this. I’m tired.”

“I know you are.”

“And I can’t be a good wife and a good mother like this. I know I can’t. And you’d better off and they’d be better off it…”

“Don’t,” Tyler orders. “Just don’t. Don’t even say what I know is coming next. Because it’s not true. It’s never going to be true. I need you. And our kids need you. So don’t ever think otherwise.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. One day I feel fine and the next I feel like this.”

“There’s a lot going on,” he attempts to reason. And none of it is good and it’s making everything else seem a lot worse. We’re dealing with a lot of shit and…”

“And now I’m moaning and crying to you and you have enough to deal with. You don’t need me being a whiny little baby on top of it. You've got enough on your plate. You don’t need this crap too.”

“Didn’t you just say ten minutes ago that we’re a team? That we’re in this together?”

“I didn’t mean this. I meant what you’re dealing with. Not my stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid shit,” Tyler argues. “It’s very real and very scary shit.”

“But it’s MY shit.”

“It’s OUR shit. You’re more important than any of this other crap. You’re all that matters. You and the kids. Everything else can wait until we figure out what to do for you. You don’t make me deal with all my mental crap alone. Why would I make you do it by yourself?”

“I don’t know why I feel this way. I shouldn’t. I have a great life. I have you and I have beautiful, healthy children and I’m in this amazing country and everything should be perfect. I should be happy. And I AM. It’s not about you or the kids…”

“I know it isn’t. You don’t have to explain any of this to me. I’ve been there, remember? I’ve been in this place. Many times. And you’re the one that always gets me out of it.”

“But what if I can’t get out of it? What if it’s too late?”

“It’s never too late,” he assures her.

“And what if I don’t want to get out of it? What then?”

“That’s just your brain talking shit. That’s not you talking. You’re the last person who would just give up. Just take a breath and try and relax. Don’t think about a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

She sniffles. “That’s pretty deep, Tyler.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m sorry.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “For what?”

“Being like this. For being fucked up. This is NOT what you need right now. You have so many other things to worry about and I’m just making it all worse.”

“You’re the only thing that matters to me. You should know that by now. Everything else can wait.”

“Maybe we do need to go away.”

“That’s not a maybe. That’s a definite yes.”

“It just hurts,” she admits. “But I don’t know what hurts. Or how to stop it from hurting.”

“Are you taking your meds?”

“That’s a turn of events,” she gives a small laugh. “You asking me that.”

“Are you? Taking them?”

She nods.

“You promise.”

“Every day, same time of the day. Maybe they’re not strong enough.”

“Maybe you need to call the doctor. Or the therapist.”

“She’ll want us both to go in. And I know you hate going there. And it will just make you miserable.”

“But if that’s what would make YOU feel better…”

“I don’t need to go see her. I’ll be fine. It’ll go away. It always does.”

“And it always comes back,” Tyler points out.

“Maybe I just need those three days away. Maybe I need that time alone with you. God, that makes me sound like a horrible mother. Like I can’t stand my own kids and I can’t wait to be away from them. Like…”

“You know what?” He takes his face in his hands. “Stop. Everyone needs to get away. Even from their own kids. We have five under six. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“I appreciate you stroking my ego and trying to make me feel better. I do. But…”

“Just stop,” He presses a kiss to her lips. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got a shit on your plate. That I put there.”

“Okay, YOU stop now. This isn’t about you, Tyler. This is me and my fucked up brain and…”

“And we’re going to deal with it. You think just any woman could deal with what you do? Not just five kids but everything else that you’ve got going on? Me and my bullshit? The job? Mahajan and all the Dhaka crap you’ve just still going up there? You think just any woman could put up with all that?”

She swallows noisily. “I guess not.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. I love you and I need you and I don’t ever want to hear you say I don’t. That I’d be better without you. You know where I’d be without? Dead. That’s a maybe. And I’m not just talking about what happened on the bridge. That was the start of it. There’s been tons of times since then that you’ve kept me going. So I don’t want to hear that shit come out of your mouth ever again. Understand me?”

Esme nods.

“Regardless of what your brain tells you. I need you here. My life is better because you’re in it. I wouldn’t even have a life if it wasn’t for you. In more ways than one.”

Her smile is brighter now, her grip on his shirt loosening. “You really are getting sappy in your old age.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just love you and I don't want to do this life without you.”

“I love you,” she says. “You have no idea how much.”

“It’s fun to guess.”

“I don’t think you can count that high. It’s tough for a guy who has to drop his pants to count to twenty one. Good thing you never lost a finger or a toe.”

Tyler grins. “Smart ass.”

“I do love you. Maybe I loved you too soon. But it felt right and it felt perfect and I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips; thumbs clearing away the few remaining tears. “It’s going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be okay.”

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“If I went down on you?” he chides.

“Well yeah, that’s an obvious answer. But maybe that can wait until later. It would make me feel better if we could get out of here for a little bit. Just go into town for a while. Just us. I can get Ovi to watch Declan and Addie and we can just do whatever.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I gotta pick up something anyway.”

“What kind of something?”

“Something that’s none of your business. A surprise.”

“For me?”

“Maybe…”

“How will it be a surprise if I’m with you?”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’ll distract you with ice cream.”

“Now THAT’S a good idea. Do you think you can spare some time? I know you’ve got a lot going on and…”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for you. I’ll just finish up here and lock everything up. It’s nothing I can’t do later.”

“AFTER you go down on me,” she teases.

“I promise I will do that first.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’m going to freshen up. I probably look like shit.”

“You’re beautiful,” he informs her. “Even when you cry.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. I won’t hold it against you though.” She places her hands on his shoulders and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I won’t be long.”

“Maybe you can find a pair of jean shorts and a yellow tank top,” he says, as she heads for the door.

She pauses on the threshold. “I was going to save those for our first day away. So I can be wearing those in the shack and you can be having serious deja vu.”

“And getting a serious hard on.”

“I don’t think Koen would appreciate you living out your kitchen table fantasy.”

“He doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

She grins. “I like the way you think. No wonder I married you. Smartest and best decision ever.”

“I knew your ex, remember? You definitely traded up.”

“I definitely did,” she agrees.

He sighs heavily as he watches her go. Never remembering a time he’d felt this helpless.

****

He’d forgotten how nice it is when it’s just the two of them. Even something as simple as holding hands while wandering through the downtown core or leisurely browsing in stores and window shopping at others; sitting on a bench and ice cream while chatting and people watching. Little moments that so many take for granted and that he’d never realized he’d missed so much. Aside from a three day honeymoon (if it could even be called a honeymoon) in Byron Bay, the only time they’ve ever been truly alone was in Ireland after she’d arrived to help out with the Michael McMann fiasco. There’d been no kids to interrupt them and they could actually eat their meals together and have conversations where they could actually listen to what the other was saying; give one another their unwavering attention and concentrating on each other for change. He’d missed his kids, naturally. Terribly. But there’d been something...special...about that alone time with her. 

For six years they’ve put all their excess time and energy into raising a family. To the point they’d almost forgotten about what it was like to exist outside of that. Only a year before they’d been strangers getting to know one another in Dhaka; in the most carnal way possible. Shortly after, everything had gone to complete and utter shit and he’d woken in a hospital bed with tubes and wires coming out of what seemed like every inch of his body and he’d been so relieved to see her sitting there. As if his brain had desperately wanted her to be there when it woke, and was terrified she wouldn’t be. And then they’d found out she was pregnant with Millie and they were suddenly living together and struggling to learn how to co-exist as a couple and expectant parents. It hadn’t been easy. There had even been times he’d wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into it. There was no way he was capable of being a husband and a father; carrying too much baggage and far too damaged for her to actually tolerate for too long.

Five kids later and she’s still hanging in there. Putting up with him even on his worst days and always looking at him like he’s the most incredible man on the entire planet. Always trusted; always feeling safe and secure and confident in his ability -and willingness- to protect her. And he’s not sure what he must have done in a precious life to deserve her, but he knows it must have been pretty damn good.

“Do I get to see what’s in there?” Tyler asks, when she emerges from one of the women’s shops with a paper bag -complete with ribbon around the handles and pink and purple tissue paper sticking out the top- clutched her chest.

“Nope. I told you. I was buying something for when we went away.” She’s back to her normal self, or at a semblance of it. The colour back in her face and the sparkle returned to her eyes. And as much as she’d hate to hear him say it, she looks cute. With her hair in a simple ponytail and just the slightest touch of eyeliner and mascara making those huge eyes stand out even more. Clad in a simple cotton sundress dotted with black with yellow, pink and blue flowers. 

“For me?” 

She nods. “For me but for you at the same time. It’s a surprise.”

“A sexy surprise or…”

“I’m not telling you. Will you tell me what’s in yours?” she nods at the purchase he carries; a much smaller bag from the jewellry store three doors down.

“It’s not from me. It’s from the kids. They want to give it to you.”

“It’s from you. Don’t lie. Why do you want me to think it’s from the kids?”

“Because I don’t want you calling me cute or soft or romantic or any of that shit.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Is it cute and romantic?”

“Esme…”

She grins. “Tyler…”

“You give me a hint and I’ll give you one. Deal?”

“Fine. It’s two pieces.”

“What color is it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. You said I just had to give you a hint. I gave you one. Now you get to wonder what it is for the next three days. What’s my hint?”

“It’s something you wear.”

“That’s a shitty hint!”

“It’s something sparkly that you wear.”

“Where do I wear it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions either. There’s two things, actually. One is from me, the other IS from the kids.”

“Two surprises? My birthday isn’t for two months. And it’s past Valentines Day and not even close to our anniversary. So you’ve either done something really bad or about to do something really bad and want to try and soften the blow.”

“Or...maybe…” he lays a hand on her hip and pulls her into him. “...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Maybe I thought you deserve nice things and I don’t always come through with them.”

“I don’t need ‘things’. You know that.” She’s never been a materialistic person; agreeing to marry him without even an engagement ring and not once, in six and a half years, ever mentioning the desire to have one. She’s simple and low maintenance; happy with just that rose gold wedding band and that weathered and frayed bracelet he’d bought off a vendor at the market in Dhaka. Seven years ago.

“I know. But I want you to have things. Don’t argue with me about the things.”

“Well I like the things?”

“I think you’ll love the things.”

Both her arms wrap around his waist, two fingers on one hand hooking around a belt loop on his jeans, and her eyes sparkling as she smiles up at him. “As much as I love you?”

“I don’t know. How much is that?”

“A lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“As much as Millie loves glitter and unicorns. Times a million.”

He grins. “That’s a hell of a lot.”

“You can’t compete with that. You can say you love me more but there’s no way. There’s no way you can love me more than THAT.”

“I love you more than your son likes hot dogs in his spaghetti.”

She laughs, her forehead falling onto his chest. “Okay, you win. Nothing can top your namesake’s love for that. I will never debate you again when you say you love me more.”

“You never stood a chance,” he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then lays a hand on the small of her back. 

It’s both loving and protective without being overbearing. The desire to keep her safe is the strongest it’s ever been; eyes constantly surveying the crowd even in their own small town. Anxious to keep her as close as possible even as they walk the familiar sidewalks; pulling her tightly into his side or even bringing her in front of him if he feels someone passes by a little too close. And it’s on one of these occasions, when he draws her into his right hip, that she feels the press of his holster against her.

“Really?” she asks. 

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“You really they’d try anything with all these people around? And never mind that, do you really think someone could be watching us right now?”

“Michael McMann was watching me for a week in Guatemala and nearly two in Colorado and we had no idea.”

“But Salena..Allison...said they were keeping an eye on things. That they’d contact us if they heard of any close by threats. It thought these people were still in India.”

“That’s what she said. Who’s to say Mahajan doesn’t have contacts that already live here.”

Esme frowns. “Have you noticed anything weird.”

“Nope.”

She stops walking. “Tyler…”

“Just keep walking okay. Walk in front of me.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Please? Just walk in front of me. I’d feel better if you were in front of me.”

“There’s someone watching us right now isn’t there.”

“I don’t know for sure. So just do me a favour…” he places his hand back on her hip and guides her in front of him, then moves his palm to the back of her neck. “...just walk. Normally. Don’t rush. Just pretend that everything’s fine.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles.

“Just a guy that’s been every place we’ve gone. Seems a little too interested in what we’re doing. Always looking away when I catch him watching us. He’s mostly looking at you so it could be just some fucking asshole checking you out.”

“Why would anyone check a woman out while she’s with her husband? Especially a husband that’s built like you?”

“He’s a pretty big guy.”

“Bigger than you?”

“Not by much.”

“Not by much? You're six three and you weigh two thirty five. That’s big enough!"

“It’s probably nothing. Normally they don’t like to call attention to themselves.”

“Who’s they?”

“Bad people. Usually they’re not that noticeable. He’s just been a little too...I don’t know...around.”

“Maybe he’s checking you out and thinks YOU’RE the hot one,” she teases.

“Stop here. I want to stand with your back against me and pretend you’re taking a selfie but you’re really taking a picture of him. Okay?”

“I haven’t done shit like this in a while,” she frets.

“Just relax and do it. Trust me.”

Sighing heavily -and nervously- she leans with her back pressed against his front and takes his cell phone as he offers it to her. Plastering a fake smile on her face in hopes of not seeming suspicious. The man in question passing by mere seconds later; at least three inches taller than Tyler and maybe twenty pounds heavier. He doesn’t even glance in their direction; not even the slightest bit of side eyes or a glance over his shoulder as he continues down the sidewalk.

“Get it?” Tyler asks.

She nods and turns and tucks his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Good job, baby,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Good job.”

“Can we go home now?” She’s dangerously close to tears; entire body trembling. “I want to go home now.”

“It’s okay.” he lays a hand on the side of her face. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I just want to go home. Please take me home.”

“Okay,” he says, then kisses her softly before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her in the direction of the truck. “We don’t have to leave. It was probably nothing. Just me being paranoid.”

“I regret all the times I ever called you that.”

“Three quarters of the time I WAS being paranoid.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Calm down. Everything’s fine. YOU’RE fine. I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you when I’m with you. You should know that by now.”

“Let’s just go home. I’ll feel better when I’m home.”

“Alright. I’ll get you home.”

She snakes his arm around his waist and leans into his side; head tucked under his arm. “It’s going to be okay, right? We’re going to be okay?”

“We’re going to be just fine,” he assures her. And hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.


	42. Chapter 42

She’s been asleep since they got home; curled up on the couch in a fetal position in one of his sweaters with the hood pulled over her head, the comforter from their bed pulled up past her ears. Not even stirring no matter how long and loud the baby cried (despite his best efforts to stop it) or how many times Dcclan would climb on top of her and play with her hair or try to cuddle with her or attempt to pry her eyes open. He tries not to let concern eat at him. Attempts to convince himself that it’s just stress and worry; a tough and shitty situation making her depression even worse. She says she’s okay with it; him getting back into the job and starting up his own merc business. She’d rather put up with the frequent absences, the cuts, bruises, stitches and the odd broken bone than have him lose his sanity or sobriety. If the pace and the intensity of the job makes it easier for him to cope with the slower and quieter times while at home, it’s a lifestyle she’s willing to subject herself to yet again.

He wants to believe that things will be better this time. That once the craziness of the Mahajan situation is dealt with and he can focus on running the business, things will settle down. He won’t have to leave home as much as he used to and can concentrate on delegating the work to others instead of getting his own hands dirty and endangering his own life. But he knows it won’t be THAT simple. It’ll take time to get things off the ground and running smoothly, and he’ll have to trust guys enough to handle jobs on their own and do them right. There will be more blood on his hands. More kills on his record and on his conscience before that happens.

There’s another part of him… a darker and even more worried part...that fears there is something more serious going on inside of her. Easily remembering the early days of Austin’s cancer; before a diagnosis had even been made. Crushing fatigue, constant head and body aches, severe mood swings. And he tries to stop his mind from going there; not allowing his brain to dwell on worst case scenarios when it’s most likely nothing THAT bad. That it’s most likely just mental health issues and the stress of the situation hanging over their heads. It’s hard to function normally when you know there’s a price on your head and a target on your back. But it’s also hard to abandon those fatalistic thoughts entirely. That something is seriously wrong and she’ll only get worse and suffer and all he’ll be able to do is sit back and watch it all happen. It’s his own personal hell; knowing that he’d never survive (mentally at least) if he lost her; regardless of how it happens. That he’d go back to the booze and the meds and be even worse than he was before. And in the end he’d lose his kids. His last remaining tie to her.

She wakes momentarily when he sits down next to her. Looking dazed and disoriented -almost confused- but saying nothing as she slides closer to him; placing her head in his lap with her face pressed into his stomach. Easily falling back asleep when he strokes her hair and lays a palm on the top of her head and repeatedly brushes his thumb across his brow. It reminds him of the the early days of her pregnancy with Declan. He’d been the third but the worst of them all; constant all day sickness, migraines, and crippling fatigue that made it impossible to get out of bed some days. She’d sleep wherever and whenever she could and he’d try to provide some sort of comfort. Secretly enjoying how vulnerable and needy she was; the way she was almost completely dependent on him instead of being so goddamn stubborn and furiously self reliant. He’d found he liked taking care of her; it selfishly made him feel useful and needed outside of just kicking in the sperm that helped make all the babies.

Of course it can’t be THAT. It’s far too soon after Addie’s arrival. And even if it wasn’t, his own doctor had said the procedure had been successful and that there’d be more babies unless he chose to reverse things. And so far they haven’t made a firm decision on whether there will be a sixth.

With both Addie and Declan napping, the house is quiet; nothing but Mac’s soft snoring as he sleeps on the threshold between the kitchen and living area, and the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore. With an hour and a half before the return of the three oldest, he takes advantage of the down time; relaxed by the warmth that radiates off of Esme’s body and the soft tickle of her breath against his stomach. He’s on the brink of sleep -that moment when your limbs feel weightless and all your senses seem muted- when he’s jarred awake by the sound of tapping against the glass of the patio door. And his eyes immediately snap open; a frown already on his face when he glances over.

Kyle’s hand is paused in mid air; just getting ready to rap his knuckles against the window again. And he gives a slightly sheepish and apologetic smile and then gestures for his brother in law to join him outside.

Sighing heavily, he groans as he stands; mentally cursing the stiffness in his back and knee and the pain that comes with just trying to get off the couch.

“Tyler?” Her voice is groggy. Confused. And there’s even a hint of fear in it that he tries to ignore.

“It’s okay.” he assures her, and her eyes never open as he cradles her face in one hand and grabs a throw pillow with the other; placing it where his lap had been and then gently lowering her head onto it. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m just going outside for a few minutes. I’ll be right back,”

He runs a hand over her hair; presses a kiss to her temple and then tucks the comforter securely around her. Looking over his shoulder as he heads for the patio door, watching as she attempts to burrow as deep into the couch as she can and pulls the hood of the sweater completely over her eyes.

“What do you want?” Tyler asks, as he steps outside, shutting both the screen and the glass door behind him.

“What’s going on? Things okay?” Kyle nods towards his sister’s sleeping form. “She alright?”

“What are you doing here? Thought you were too busy dicking down the neighbour to bother with us?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Kyle ignores the cheap shot. “She doesn’t look so good. Another one of those panic attacks or whatever?”

“She’s just tired. What do you want?”

“She told me. About everything. Salena...Allison. She told me about who she is and why she’s really here and what’s going on. About Ovi’s dad and all the threats and…”

“And you’re still banging her? You don’t find it a little weird she’s been lying to you this whole time?”

“My sister was lying to me and our entire family for years before we found out who you really are and what you really did for a living.”

“That’s hardly the same thing. You’re okay with all of this? You’re still going to fuck her or whatever the hell you’ve got going on over there?”

“We’re going to work through it. It doesn’t have to be a deal breaker.”

Tyler smirks. “The head must be epic to put up with that kind of shit.”

“Is it true that you’re starting up your own business? That you’re looking for people? Mercenaries?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“I want in. People are threatening my family. My kid sister. My nieces and nephews. I don’t want to just sit back and watch this shit go down. I want whoever is doing this to pay. I want to make them suffer and humiliate them and torture them and…”

“This isn’t your standard schoolyard bully,” Tyler interjects. “This isn’t about calling some guy out to right and meeting him in the parking lot. This is serious. Hard core shit. And these are dangerous people. Dangerous and powerful.”

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“I think you need to just stay out of it and let the people who’ve dealt with this kind of thing before handle it. There’s no need for you to get caught up in this.”

“My family is the one that’s being threatened. That’s in danger. I'm just just sitting back and letting someone hurt them. I don’t care how powerful and dangerous they are.”

“The best thing you could do is go home. Go back to Colorado. Get away from all of this. Back to your normal life and your normal job. You do not want to get involved in this. In the job. In this life.”

“But it’s okay for my sister to be involved in it?” Kyle argues.

“Okay, first off, keep your fucking voice down. She doesn’t need to wake up and hear this. She’s got enough going on and she doesn’t need to hear this. So either tone it down or fuck off. Those are the only two options.”

“You dragged her into this!” Kyle’s voice is a harsh whisper. “You could have walked away seven years ago. You could have thought about her for once instead of only thinking about yourself. It was fucking selfish; letting her get involved in this. Involved with you.”

“We are not having this conversation. I didn’t force your sister to stay here after Dhaka. I didn’t hold a gun to her head. I didn’t guilt her into stating. She chose to stick around. All on her own.”

“You could have stopped being a selfish price and told her to go. That you didn’t want to be with her. That there was nothing between the two of you worth holding onto. You could have said something...anything...to convince her to leave. All you cared about was what was best for you. What you wanted. You didn’t give a shit about her; what kind of life she’d have with you.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about what down between your sister and I. She chose this life. And she’s had plenty of chances to leave. Every time I fucked up, she took me back. She could have walked away and she didn’t. So you need to back the fuck off. I’m not telling you more than once.”

“You really think she would have walked? When there’s kids involved?”

“You think that’s why she sticks around? For the kids? If things got real bad, she’d leave. And she’d take them with her and she’d raise them on her own and she’d do a damn fucking good job doing it. Stop treating her like a child. Stop looking at her like she’s weak and pathetic. Because she’s anything but.”

“She’s my sister!”

“She’s my wife!” Tyler snarls. “I don’t give a shit that she’s your sister. You know nothing about who she really is.”

“You did this. This craziness. You got her and the kids mixed up in this life. Now there’s people out there threatening them. Who want to hurt them. Who want to KILL them. All because of who you and what you do. And you think that’s okay?”

“I think it’s fucked up. You think I want this? You think I want targets on their backs? This is the last thing I wanted. But I’m taking care of it and I don’t need your help. Go home, Kyle. Go back to Colorado and your normal life. Be thankful you’ve got that life. Just go home. That’s the best thing you could do for all of us.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going back there.”

“Well you’re not staying here. So unless you’re going to play house with the neighbour…”

“I want in. On your business.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You don’t think I can handle it? Being a mercenary?”

“I think you need to go home and go back to being a firefighter and forget all about what I’m doing down here. I’ve got people. I don’t need you. And even if I did. I’d say the same thing. I’m not bringing you into this. If something happened to you, Esme would never forgive me. So go home and go on with your life.”

“I’m staying here,” Kyle remains adamant. “In Australia. Whether you like it or not. And I’m going to get involved in all of this. I’m going to help find the people that are threatening my sister and my nieces and nephews. And you know what? You can’t fucking stop me?”

“You want to watch me?” Tyler challenges. “Because I CAN stop you. And I will. I am asking you...no…I’m telling you...to stay out of this. You have no idea what you’d be getting yourself into it. And I bet your girlfriend or booty call or whatever the hell she is, would tell you the same thing. I’m trying to fucking protect you! I don’t want you involved in this. Not because I don’t think you can handle it, because I don’t want you getting into this kind of life. So stay out of it and let the people who know what they’re doing handle things.”

“Like you handled things in Dhaka?”

Tyler’s eyes narrow; fists twitching and clenching as he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Things didn’t go so well, did they. Even with all your experience.”

“Dhaka went to shit because I got royally fucked by Ovi’s old man. Because instead of paying me, he sent someone to kill me and get the kid back. I did everything right. Everything went according to plan and…”

“Was fucking my sister part of the plan?”

“We’re not talking about this. What went down between me and Esme is none of your business. Maybe you think you’re an expert on it or that you know everything there is to know because your fuck buddy let you read a file on it. But you know shit. You weren’t there.”

“I know you trusted some douche bag friend of yours and he was going to hand my sister over to a drug dealer. For money.”

“And that douche bag paid the price. And he was never going to hand her over. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Keep your mouth shut about Dhaka. You weren’t there. I was. Your sister was.”

“She shouldn’t have been.”

“Take that up with Nik. That has nothing to do with me. Things went to shit there. Big time. But I did everything I had to get your sister out of there. I would give my life up for her. I nearly did. So don’t stand here and tell me Dhaka was my fault when I did everything I could go straighten that goddamn mess out.”

“And even after that you still wouldn’t send her away. Even after everything she saw and everything she had to do, you were still a selfish fuck and kept her around. It was never about what was best for her. It’s always been about what’s best for you.”

“You know what, just shut the fuck up. I’ve heard enough. You come here to my house and you get up on that fucking pedestal of yours and you spout all your self righteous bullshit and you think I’m just going to stand around and take. Fuck you, Kyle. You were going to marry a woman that tried to ruin your sister’s life and you think you’re somehow morally superior? That was a bitch move and you let Esme know loud and clear that everything Nik put her through meant shit. And you have the nerve to call me selfish? You stabbed your own sister in the back for a piece of ass.”

“That’s not how it went down. That’s not…”

“You got mixed up with a woman that tried to tear your sister’s life apart. And that broke her heart. It hurt her. My wife. You did that. Not me. I’m just the one that was here to fix your shit and make her happy and help her get over it.”

“When is it going to be enough?” Kyle asks. “When will she have given you enough of herself? When she’s hurt? When she’s dead? Will that be enough for you, Tyler? When she dies because of who you are and what you do?”

“Go home, Kyle. Get the next flight out of here and just go home. You don’t need to be here. I’ve got bigger and better than you working on this. Go home and rescue a cat out of a fucking tree or something.”

Kyle snorts. “You’re a real fucking prick, you know that?”

“Maybe I am, But everything I do, every decision I make, is always what’s best for your sister and my kid. That’s all that matters to me. And I would die for them. In a heartbeat. So don’t you ever accuse me or not putting what’s best for them first.”

“I’ll hunt you down you know,” Kyle threatens, as Tyler heads for the door. “If something happens to her or those kids, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

“It’ll be too late,” Tyler says. “‘Cause if anything happens to them, I’ll put a gun in my mouth. And then I’ll pull the trigger.”

****

“Why isn’t mommy coming with us?” Millie asks from her seat in the back of the SUV.

He’d been waiting for them when the school bus arrived; buckling them in as opposed to ushering them into the house; giving their mother a chance to sleep off whatever has her down and out. She’d stayed awake for all of half an hour after Kyle had left; long enough to have a tea and something small to eat before going back to sleep, this time upstairs in their bed. 

“Is she sick?” Tanner inquires; and through the rear view mirror Tyler can the concern and panic written all over the five year old’s face. Their bond has become tighter since his return from New Zealand, but no one compares to mommy in Tanner’s eyes. She’s the centre of the universe as far as he’s concerned. Looking at her with a love and adoration that can’t be matched by anyone.

“She’s just tired,” Tyler assures him. “She needs some sleep. Her body’s still getting back to normal after having Addie. So we’re going to let her rest. In a nice, quiet house without you guys bothering her.”

“Maybe she just needs cuddles,” TJ suggests. “Cuddles with mommy always make me feel better.”

“Well maybe when we get back, you can cuddle with her. But right now, we’re going to let her sleep.”

The worry lingers. The nagging voice in his ear that says this isn’t just stress and the lingering effects of postpartum depression. She’s battled that particular demon after every baby she’s brought into the world. Successfully. But it has never been THIS intense and all consuming. And he’s thankful that the kids seem satisfied with his half assed explanation; relieved he won’t be hounded with all kinds of questions he won’t have answers for. 

“You okay?” Ovi asks from the passenger seat. He’d offered to tag along on their excursion; a hastily planned road trip along a small section of the coast, time at whatever beach caught their eye, dinner in whatever small town they finished up in. 

Tyler had been hesitant at first; not liking the idea of leaving her alone for that amount of time. And when he’d called up Allison and asked if she’d come over and ‘keep an eye on things’, she’d been more than willing to help out. It made him feel better. Somewhat, His trust level is still low; it’s hard to get over that kind of betrayal whether it was done in your best interest or not. But she’s experienced; her business world renowned and her reputation solid.

“Just a little on edge.”

“About what’s going on with my father? Mumbai?”

“Can we not talk about that? Little ears. We’re trying not to talk about it around them. Keep things as normal as possible. Whatever the hell normal is.”

Ovi nods in understanding. “Is Saju’s brother still coming?”

“What did I just say? About not talking about this?”

“They’re not even listening. They’ve all got their headphones and they’re planning on their tablets. Besides, I didn’t say anything about my father or Mumbai.”

“Tomorrow. He gets here tomorrow. Flight arrives at ten in the morning.”

“And he’s coming to the house?”

Tyler nods.

“I want to be there. I want to meet him. I never got the chance to meet any of Saju’s family. I’d only seen Neysa and Aarav in pictures. He was very private like that. Saju. He always kept this business life and his private life separate.”

“Smart man.”

“Your business life because your personal life,”

“Yeah, it did. And I don’t regret it. No matter who thinks I should.”

Ovi arches a quizzical brow.

“Just Kyle. He came over and brought up some shit that didn’t need to be brought up. Esme’s entire family has it in their heads that I somehow forced her to stay here after Dhaka. That I should have just told her to fuck off and sent her away. Instead I held a gun to her head or brainwashed her into sticking around. And then there’s Nik,” he sighs. “She’s always had an issue with it. Esme and I being together. Especially how things started.”

“Because you guys were...you know...when you were supposed to be working?”

“Pretty much.” He removes the sunglasses that hang off the neck of his t-shirt and slip them onto his face. “I’m the first to admit that it was totally the wrong place and the wrong time. It shouldn’t have happened. One of us should have been strong enough to put a stop to things. But it DID happen. And it kept happening. Seven years later and she’s still pissed about it.”

“But there’s more to it than that,”, Ovi says. “I mean, I guess she was pretty hurt about the fact you didn’t want to be with her that way.”

“Nik and I both went into things knowing where each of us stood. I didn’t want what she wanted. And she was okay with that. Until she wasn’t.”

“Until someone else came along you did want that with.”

“She just went psycho. Once I got back into the job the first time, she wouldn’t leave me the fuck along. Texting me all the time, calling me, emailing me. Showing up whatever hotel I was staying at. IT was fucked. It was like no matter how many times I said no, she took it as meaning she just needed to try harder. Six years of that shit I put up with. WE put up with. Every chance to fuck things up for us, she took it.”

Ovi smirks. “Pretty determined.”

“Or crazy. I don’t know which.”

“Maybe she was just really lonely,” Ovi says. “It’s not like she’d ever admit that. That’s not Nik. Maybe she was tired of being alone so she tried to hold onto someone familiar.”

“You don’t hold on to a married man. Especially one with kids. Find someone available. That wants you that way. Don’t try and break up someone’s home. That's pretty low.”

Ovi nods in agreement. “Can I ask you something?”

“This isn’t a repeat of seven years ago, is it? You’re not going to ask me some bullshit about being brave and rescuing people are you?”

“You ARE brave. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

Tyler scoffs. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t want you to get upset.”

“Why would I get upset? How bad is whatever you’re going to ask?”

“It’s...personal.”

“How personal?”

“Personal enough you might get upset.”

“You know what…” Tyler chuckles. “...just ask. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could punch me in the face.”

“If I promise not to, will you ask?”

Ovi nods.

“I promise I won’t punch you in the face. What is it?”

“Is it true that you and Nik had a thing?”

“I just told you we did. “It was strictly sex. That’s it. When I had an itch, she’d come over and scratch it.”

“I mean AFTER you and Esme got together. After you got married.”

Tyler scowls. “What?”

“It’s what I was told.”

“That I had a thing with Nik after I got married? Who the hell told you that?”

“Chloe. Nik told her that you and her were hooking up. On the regular. After you went back to the job the first time. That she’d meet up with you in whatever city you were in.”

“That never fucking happened. Ever.”

“And that things were especially...intense...during the six month you and Esme were apart. That you even told Nik you’d get a divorce and be with her.”

“Are you serious right now?” He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “She said all that?”

“And that things only stopped when Esme was having problems when she was pregnant with Addie. That you ended things because you didn’t want anything happening to the baby and you felt obligated to stay in your marriage. For your kids.”

“Nik actually said that? That I was cheating on my wife with her?”

Ovi nods.”I told Chloe that it wasn’t true. That you’d never do something like that. That I’d been living with you guys for a long time and I would have noticed something was up. You guys have never had THOSE kind of problem.s I mean, you always fought a lot, but I never got the impression you were messing around,”

“Because I wasn’t. Not with Nik. Not with anyone. I would never...ever...do anything like that. Why would I want to? Why would I want to mess around on the best thing that’s ever happened to me? Someone who saved my fucking life. Why the hell would I do something like that?”

It makes him feel sick to even think about it; that someone would even accuse him of that, never mind think he’s the kind of guy that would do it. And it makes that rage to start to simmer; that low, slow boil that just takes one wrong move to send it spiralling out of control.

“I didn’t say I believed it,” Ovi says. “I just…”

“I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater. I may not always be the best man for her, but I’m a faithful one. And the fact Nil would say something like that….”

“I knew it wasn’t true,” Ovi insists. “”I knew you’d never do something like that.”

“You must have thought I would or you wouldn’t have asked ‘is it true…?. No. It’s not fucking true.”

“Daddy!” Millie scolds from the last row of seats. “Language, remember? Little ears in the car.”

He scowls at her through the rear view mirror. “I thought you had your headphones on?”

“My ears got sweaty so I took them off.”

“Well do me a favour and put them back on, because there’s going to be a whole lot of adult language I don’t want you to hear.”

“I already know you swear, daddy. You’re the one who taught me all the best swears!”

“Amelia..”

“But my ears are still sweaty!”

“You’ll live.”

“Fine,” she dramatically huffs, and slips the headphone back on; arms crossed over her chest, and a scowl on her face. The exact same expression he’s seen in the mirror many times.

“You actually believed something like that?” He addresses Ovi. “What Nik said?”

“I didn’t say that. I…”

“Your exact words were ‘is it true’. Meaning you thought it was. You actually thought I would do something like that?”

“Well you guys fought a lot and…”

“And because we fought at lot that automatically meant I was fucking around on my wife?”

“Not necessarily. But…”

“There’s no but. Not a single fucking but.. I have never cheated on my wife. Not with Nik. Not with anyone. Yeah, we used to fight. A lot. And they were nasty, ugly fights and we said a lot of mean and hurtful shit to each other. Sometimes we still fight; not nearly as bad but it still happens. But we always work on shit and. We even go to a goddamn therapist.”

“This is what I mean about you getting upset.”

“Do you blame me? You just admitted that you think I’m the type that would screw around on my wife.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. …”

“I have never and I will never, do that. You can call me an alcoholic, you can call me a drug addict. I don’t give a shit. But don’t ever call me a cheater. I haven’t fucked around on her and I don’t WANT to fuck around on her. She's the love of my life. The ONLY love of my life, actually. And I’d die for her. I almost did. And I barely knew her then. Don’t ever question my loyalty to her. Or I’ll beat your ass into the middle of next week,

“I honestly never thought you did,” Ovi insists. “The way I said it? That’s not how I meant it. I swear.”

“You’ve been saying and doing a lot of dumb shit lately.”

Ovi sighs. “I know.”

“What the fuck, mate? What’s going on with you? You don't tell me about your old man contacting you, you don’t tell me about wanting to get into the job until it wasn’t almost too late, now you’re bringing up this shit with Nik. What the hell?”

“It won’t make any sense. No matter how I try to explain it to you.”

“Look I know I’m not the smartest guy on earth, but I’m not THAT stupid.”

“It doesn’t even make sense to me! How is it going to make sense to you?”

“Try me. I might surprise you. I’m brain damaged. Not brain dead. I do have my intelligent moments.”

Ovi sighs. “I feel I’m just here. That I’m just existing, This isn’t where I thought I’d be with my life. I thought I’d be in school. Getting an education. Doing something with my life. And I feel like I’m just stuck. Like I’m just HERE. But nowhere at the same time.”

Tyler nods slowly, letting the words...and the meaning behind them...sink in. “Well where do you want to be?” he asks.

“Here. With all of you. It’s the only place I want to be. With my family.”

“But…”

“But I want to be a different me. Which is why I want to get into the job. I want to prove to myself that I can do it. That I can be strong and brave and…”

“Kid, you ARE strong and brave. You don’t need the job to make you that way. You think just anyone could have survived what you went through? Not just Dhaka but everything afterwards? You were a kid. A kid who had to do and see shit no kid should ever have to. And you still turned out good. Damn good.”

“Because of you. And Esme. If you guys hadn’t gotten me out of Mumbai, where would I be now? I’d be running things for my father. Or I’d be dead. And I owe you guys for that. I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe us anything. We took you because we wanted to. Not because we felt we had to. We wanted you to have a normal life. A family. We tried to give you that. I don’t know how well we did with it, but…”

“You’re not my father, but you are my dad. And Esme didn’t give birth to me, but she’s still my mom. And those are my brothers and sisters. We don’t have to be wrapped in the same color paper to be family.”

No…” Tyler says, a slow smile spreading across his face. “...we don’t.”

“I just want you to give me a chance. With the job. I’m trying to find myself. Find out what I’m to do and who I’m meant to be. How can I do that if you won’t let me?”

“I want more for you than that. You deserve more than that. You’re WORTH more than that.”

“And you’re not? My life is of no more worth than yours is.”

“My life before all of this? Before Esme, before my kids, before Dhaka? It was shit. Pure and utter shit. But the last six and a half years of my life have been amazing. Even with the PTSD and all the crap that comes with it. I’ve got a great life. I’ve got a wife and I’ve got kids and if I go to Mumbai and I die there, at least I know I did something good with what was left of my life. But you’ve got a lot of years ahead of you. Why take the chance of cutting them short by getting into the job?”

“You said you’d take me on. You said you…”

“And I am. I am taking you on; giving you a chance. But I don’t think you really know what you’re getting into. What don’t you want more for yourself? Go back to school. Get your education. A real job. A career. Don’t settle for this shit. Because once you get into you, you can’t get back out. It stays with you, It lives in you. It never lets you rest. Trust me, I know. I can’t get out. No matter how fucking hard I try. Is that really what you want for your life?”

“I just want the chance. To find out if it’s for me.”

Tyler sighs. “You’re a stubborn little bastard, you know that?”

“Yeah?” Ovi grins. “I DO know that. I get it from my dad.”

***

She’s awake when he steps into their room; freshly showered with her damp hair wrapped up in a towel, clad in another one of his t-shirts and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. She’s sitting up in bed; pillows stacked behind her and supporting her back; knees against her chest and both arms wrapped around them, attention focused on the television across the room. She looks better; the color has returned to her cheeks and her eyes don’t seem so dull and lifeless. And she glances over at him and smiles; genuine and warm, neither strained or forced. It’s enough; that one smile relieving a little bit of the worry he’d been carrying around since early in the afternoon.

“Hey.” she greets, and turns her face up towards him when he leans down to kiss her. “I thought maybe you’d run away.”

“Never,” Tyler says, and offers her a take out container of food he’d brought home with him. “Someone told me you never went downstairs the entire time I was gone, so I know you haven’t eaten anything since this afternoon.”

Esme frowns. “I can’t believe she ratted me.”

“Weren’t you just on my ass this afternoon about eating? Something about not being able to run on an empty tank?”

“Touche. And I can’t believe you actually trusted her enough to leave me alone with her. That’s not like you.”

“We’re both on the same team. I figure things will just be easier if I try to get along with other people.”

“Baby…” she reaches out and pats his stomach. “...I’m proud of you. That’s huge progress for you, You haven’t been drinking have you?”

“No smart ass. I haven’t. Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

“It is pretty shitty.” she agrees, and then stretches her legs out and sets the container of food on her thighs, a wide grin spreading across her face and her eyes sparkling when she opens the lid. “...oh my God. You really DO love me. Tacos? You’re a good shit. You can stay. I’ll keep you.”

“I’ll have to let my other wives know I've decided to settle down here.”

“You mean your side hoes?” she teases. “ What is it up to now? Ten?”

“Even dozen.”

“No wonder you work out so hard in the gym. That’s a lot of bitches to satisfy.”

“I fake it with them. I only put actual effort into you.”

“I knew it. I AM your favourite.”

“Always have been. Always will be. Sorry. You’re stuck with me.”

“I think I can suffer through maybe forty, fifty years with you. It’s awful quiet. You already put the kids to bed?”

“All five of them. Ovi helped. He’s been kissing ass today.”

“He sort of needs to,” she says, and bites into one of the tacos. “He’s done a lot of stupid shit lately.”

“He’s going through some stuff,” Tyler says, his shoulder cracking and popping at the simple act of pulling off his t-shirt. Pain travelling all the way down to the tips of his fingers; the accompanying pins and needles making it difficult to tend to his belt and the button and zip on his jeans.

“What kind of stuff?”

He shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

“That can only mean one thing. It’s about a girl. More specifically, about Chloe.”

“He’s pretty torn up about her leaving. I think we might have underestimated how he felt about her.”

“He’s young,” Esme reasons. “There’s plenty of fish in the sea. He’ll meet someone else.”

“She fucked him over pretty good. Used him as a free ticket here, took what she could, screwed around on him.”

She looks up, pausing mid chew. “She what? He told you she was messing around?”

“He doesn’t have any proof. Just a feeling he has.”

“That bitch,” she scoffs. “I told you she was a knuckle dragging thunder cunt. He was definitely more into her than she was into him. I’m glad he didn’t cave and buy a ring and all of that. What disaster THAT would have been. Imagine if he’d gotten her pregnant?”

“I don’t even want to think about that. I do not want to be a grandpa any time soon. Let’s hope he holds for another...I don’t know...ten...fifteen years…”

“Millie could be having kids in fifteen years.”

“You wanna sleep on the couch? That’s the kind of talk that finds you sleeping on the couch.”

“Whether you like it or not, your daughter is going to get married one day. She’s going to have a family. She’s going to meet a really nice guy that reminds her of you and she’s going to fall madly in love with him and they’re going to get married and have babies and...”

“I brought you tacos and this is how you repay me? Talking like this? I do not want to hear this.”

“I’m just saying. In fifteen years, our daughter could be having her own kids. It’s not impractical to think that way, You’re just bent out of shape over the fact that you won’t be number one in her life anymore.”

“I’ll still have Addie.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. You promised me I could have Addie.”

“I lied.”

“Well fuck you too then, Tyler. You want me to play dirty.?”

He grins as he peels back the blankets and slides into bed next to her. “I love when you play dirty.”

“You want to steal both girls for yourself? I’ll take all three boys for MYSELF, You won’t have a single one left on your team when I’m done with them. They’re going to be all about mommy and you’ll be so pissed. I’ll even turn your name sake into the biggest momma’s boy EVER. Just you watch. I have powers that you don’t fully understand.”

“TJ will never crack,” he says, as he stretches out his legs and leans back against the headboard. “You’re not THAT powerful.”

“I’ve kept you around and in line and for seven years.”

“Because you use sexual favours to brainwash me into staying.”

“Yep. That’s definitely it. My head game is THAT strong.”

He chuckles. “Actually, it is. And what kind of dog shit is this?” he nods in the direction of the tv.

“Some reality show about marrying someone before you actually get to see what they look like.”

“That sounds...fucked.”

“Just a bit. But who knows? Maybe love truly IS blind. Maybe you can fall in love with someone sight unseen.”

“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”

“Such a romantic,” she chides, and then moves closer to him when he drapes an arm across her shoulders. “When you said you were going out, I didn’t think you were leaving the country. You didn’t have to stay out THAT long?”

“You needed a break so I gave you a break. Kids were fine. I told them that you were tired and you weren’t feeling well and that they’d see you tomorrow. No big deal.”

“Kind of a shitty mother than needs THAT long of a break.”

“Every mother needs a break. We have five kids. All under six. You’re a fucking legend. Going this long WITHOUT a break?”

“Well I’m lucky that I picked the right guy to have babies with. Because you’re not one to shy away from getting your hands dirty. And all five at once? And you say you’re not brave. That’s as brave as any man can get.”

He grins at that, then tugs the towel of her hair and runs his fingers through her damp tresses. “You okay? You feel better?”

She nods. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you. The way you are with me. The way you love me like you do. You’re one of the good days.”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“All the time. Even on your worst days you’re not THAT bad. I’ve lived with bad. Very bad. You don’t even come close to that. I’m one of the lucky ones. Some women never get away from that. From that type. Makes me feel shitty that I’ve taken for granted when there’s guys like Mark..and worse...out there.”

“You know what? I think we’re both guilty of taking things for granted. I know I am. I’m not always the best husband. I know I’ve put you through a lot of crap. That I’ve made shitty fucking decisions and broke every goddamn promise I’d ever made.”

“Tyler, you’re not perfect. Neither am I. But you’re perfect for me. And that’s all that matters. I mean I was a whiny little bitch baby all day and you still brought me tacos. My one true comfort food. You don’t have to remember stupid little things like that, but you do. You’ve come a long way in seven years. I still remember you trying to choke me out in Dhaka.”

“I was NOT trying to choke you out.”

“You had your hand around my throat.”

“I was pissed off. I reacted. Badly.”

“I should have kneed you in the balls.”

.“You would have had to stand on a step stool.”

“You and your short jokes,” she dramatically huffs. “And okay, maybe you weren’t intentionally trying to choke me out. But your first instinct when you were raging was to grab me by the throat. That was kind of…”

“Fucked?”

“No we did that AFTER you tried to choke me out.”

He smirks. 

“It was weird. Because you’re so big and you’re so strong and I knew you could have easily snapped my neck if you’d wanted to. But I wasn’t even thinking about that. I wasn’t even scared. You were mad but I could see it in your eyes; you didn’t WANT to hurt me. You just snapped and reacted and…”

“It was an asshole thing to do. I never should have done it.”

“It did turn into the sexy kind of choking, though,” she reminds him.

“That’s not the point. The fact I even did that...grabbed you like that...it makes me sick when I think about it. I hate that I did that. Even seven years later, it still bothers me. I never meant to do it.”

“I know. You’ve apologized a million times. And that’s exactly what I was saying; you’ve come a long way since then. You’re calmer and you laugh more and you smile all the time.”

“I didn’t have much to smile about back then. Now I have six very good reasons to smile. I’ve got you, I’ve got my kids. Life’s pretty good.”

“Even when all this other stuff?”

“The other stuff will get worked out. I’ll get shit taken care of and it’ll all be over and we can get on with things. We won’t have to worry about Mahajan ever again. Trust me.”

“For every Mahajan and Asif that dies, five more crop up.”

“And if I have to, I’ll take care of them too. Can we not talk about this? Because talking about this and dealing with this is what freaked you out today. And I’d rather you NOT freak out. Just let me handle it, okay?”

She nods.

“And you weren’t a little bitch baby. There’s a lot going on. And none of it is good. You’re stressed and you’ve got your own depression and PTSD and all that crap to deal with. And five kids to take care of. Including a pretty new one. I’m honestly surprised it took this long for you to have a mental breakdown.”

“Are you kidding?” she laughs. “I think I’ve had about five in the last week alone. All I can do is worry. About you. About Ovi. About you.”

“You said me twice.”

“Well I worry twice about you. Just the thought of you going to Mumbai and somehow ending up in Dhaka…”

“There is no logical reason for me to end up in Dhaka. None whatsoever. Just get that out of your head. Or at least try to. Can we talk about something else? I don’t want to talk about this.”

“What should we talk about?”

“I dunno. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk at all. I want to do other things.”

“What kind of other things?”

“Remember when I asked ‘you know what would make me feel better?’ and your first reaction was…”

“Oh,” he grins. “THOSE kinds of things.”

“I figure I don’t know how long you’re going to be gone for, so we better get as much of ‘those kinds of things’ in before you leave.”

“What if we do as much as ‘those kinds of things’ as we can, but I never end up going anywhere?”

“It’s a small price to pay. I’ll gladly suffer through multiple orgasms and you end up not going anywhere. I won’t complain about it. I promise.”

“I don’t ever want to hear you say I never do anything nice for you,” Tyler chides, as he tosses the covers back and then kneels at her feet. “One or two orgasms for a couple of tacos? That seems a little steep.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises, giggling when he grabs her by the hips, pulls her down the bed, and she lands flats on her back. “In the best way I know how.”

His hands make short work of her pajama bottoms; quickly sliding them down her legs and dropping them at the end of bed. “You’re going to let me sleep in past the school bus tomorrow?”

“Okay, in the second best way I know how.”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” he grins, palms pushing her legs apart, mouth blazing a trail of warm, moist kisses along the insides of her thighs.

“You’ve never complained before,” she says. “In fact, you…” her voice trails off, replaced by a long, content sigh as his tongue pushes its way past her folds and makes its first sweep over her clit. Suddenly nothing else matters; just the feel of his mouth and the way his fingers move inside of her. 

All thoughts of Mumbai and Dhaka are completely obliterated. At least temporarily.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mention of child abuse

She dreams of their last morning in Dhaka.

Not of when he’d sent her away with Ovi and Saju. Or of the carnage on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. No blood. No sounds of gunfire and explosions. No blinding or crippling fear. No confusion or frustration. No counting the steps from start to finish because it was the only thing keeping you focused and sane. No burning sting from your own sweat dripping in your eyes. No smell of gunpowder or gasoline from ruptured tanks. And no Farhad. No bullet to the throat or the weight of Tyler’s body in her arms; no hearing him choking or gasping. No seeing his blood seep through her fingers or the feel of his pulse when she’d had to resort to attempting to pinch off the severed vein. No witnessing the terror in his eyes; watching helplessly as all hope and life began to fade.

In her dreams Dhaka doesn’t exist. It hasn’t in almost a year. Eleven months, fourteen days, and roughly ten hours. Give or take a few minutes. That’s the last time she had THAT particular dream; reliving the horror second by second in extremely vivid and heartbreaking detail. She’d wake up in hysterics; violently flailing and screaming at the top of her lungs, entire body trembling as hot, bitter tears streamed down her face. And the second he merely touched her in an effort to comfort and calm, things only escalated. Her fight or flight response immediately kicking in and always choosing fight. Kicking and punching; yanking at his hair and clawing at his face and his throat. Not relenting until he had to physically restrain both arms behind her back and pin her -stomach down- to the bed with his bigger and much stronger frame. Holding her there until she wore herself out and her brain finally became aware of her surroundings. Ugly , heaving sobs turning into soft, pathetic whimpers. Ashamed of herself as she lay there; feeling the weight of his body, the warmth of his breath and his lips pressed to her ear. That deep voice impossibly calm and soothing as he continued to talk her down off the ledge. Reminding her that she wasn’t in Dhaka anymore. She’d made it out of there. They both had. They were no longer on the bridge; no longer in danger but in the safety and security of home. THEIR home. And he’d tell her loved her and that there was nothing...or no one...that could ever hurt her again. He’d make sure of that. And she’d cry even more because she didn’t understand how he could love her THAT much. When she was so broken and damaged and didn’t feel worthy of pity, let alone love.

This dream is pleasant. Welcome. Of that squalid Dhaka hotel room with its discolored walls and water stained ceiling and mismatched furniture. Sticky, humid temperatures even in the early morning hours; no relief brought by the steady breeze that ruffled the tattered and torn curtains. Nothing else existing outside that room once the door closed behind them; no attention paid to the dirty surroundings or the noises from the street below. Being woken up by large, calloused hands roaming her body; surprisingly gentle yet focused and attention in their exploration. Soon accompanied by a series of soft kisses being pressed along her shoulders, against the back of her neck, and down the entire length of her spine. Lips soft and warm; a striking contrast to the rub and scratch of her beard. Shivering as every nerve ending caught on fire and her body began to respond. Feeling the weight... that almost intimidating presence...of his much larger and heavier body as it hovered above. One hand planted next to her head on the mattress as two fingers from the other cleared away the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear; followed by the touch of his lips against her temple and then the corner of her mouth. Breathtaking softness from a man so powerful; striking blue eyes no longer haunted and troubled, instead filled with so much want and need.

And when she lifts her head and turns her face into his, it’s different. Not as tough and desperate. A gentleness in those long and soft closed mouth upon closed mouth kisses. His tongue tentatively prodding at her lips and then her teeth, seeking permission. What follows is next is a change of pace; a deviation from the sex of the past five days. Slowly and patiently taking her from behind; no aggression, no fingers pressing into her hips hard enough to bruise, no punishing, animalistic pace. Just slow, controlled movements and the sounds of his ragged breath and the drip of his seat on her back and shoulders. It’s overwhelming but welcome; the roughness of his beard against her skin, the now familiar scent that clings to his skin and his hair, the sound of his voice as it rumbles deep within his chest. His presence engulfs her; brain trying to commit every inch of him...every kiss exchanged, every smile, every word he’s spoken...to memory.

The dream switches abruptly. The car ride to the extraction point; seven thirty in the morning in a dusty Mercedes that he’d stolen five days earlier. It’s the first time they haven’t spoken since they met; no bickering, no simple chit-chat, no bantering or light hearted teasing. Nerves on edge, focus shifting. Her job done, his on the verge of beginning. All the softness is gone; the darkness returning to his eyes, jaw tightly clenched, shoulders tense. Yet the silence is surprisingly comfortable. Companionable, even. And his hand is still tender when it reaches for hers; lacing their fingers together and then resting their joined hands on his thigh. It’s all about the contact; needing even the smallest and most innocent touch to ground yourself and preserve what’s left of your sanity. And they don’t speak until they’ve reached their destination. Not even while he slips a bullet proof vest over her and then knocks her hands out of the way she attempts to tighten the straps; tending to them himself.

Not a single word uttered until after he takes his face in his hands and kisses her. It’s long and soft and it’s...promising. There’s hope in it. That things are going to go smoothly and they’re both going to make it out of there and then they’ll move on to better days. A hope that he’s found something to hang onto; something..someone..that can remind him of what it's like to feel alive again. Two broken and people that have found each other under the strangest -and most dangerous- circumstances. Who’ve allowed themselves to actually feel something for someone else. The start of a healing process for them both; a road that would be long and hard but hopefully be worth it. And for a brief moment that edge is peeled away; his eyes lightening and his expression softening. Her face still cradled in his hands and his lips against her forehead.

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

It’s the last words he’ll speak until hours later. When everyone who’d come to Dhaka with them is dead and they’re reunited in the back office of a darkened factory. Every plan and every hope rapidly disintegrating and being replaced with fear and worry. Everything going wrong so quickly with no time to catch your breath.

Everything is different. Life is altered. Almost as if those days in that hotel room never actually happened. As if it had been its own dream, wrapped up in a bigger, more terrifying nightmare.

***

He sits on the back porch with Addie tucked between his thighs and leaning back against him; impossibly tiny against his broad and powerful frame. A palm pressed against her; keeping her safely and securely in place, the tips of two fingers gently pressed into the bottom of her chin, keeping her head supported. 

Being a father has brought out the softer side of him. The Tyler that exists at home a striking contrast to the Tyler he is when on the job. It’s as if the two share nothing but appearance and voice; assertiveness and aggression replaced by patience and tenderness. One can take a life with his bare hands, the other helps create it. The rough and rugged edges of a former soldier and gun for hire swapped with more gentle and compassionate ones; those that come with being a dad and having innocent, precocious lives completely dependent on you. He thrives in a domestic role, even when it feels like a struggle to him. Enjoying having other people to take care of. Whether it’s fixing meals or feeding and diapering a baby or doing Millie’s hair or tending to scraped knees and bloody noses. Hands surprisingly delicate and nimble despite their size and their ability to inflict so much pain and suffering. Even death. 

He smiles more. Laughs easily. Eyes not as troubled and haunted despite the deep rooted trauma and tremendous loss he’s suffered. Even his voice is different; no irritability to his tone, no edge. It’s calm and soft when it needs to be; stern not overly harsh when required. The two Tylers are strikingly different but alike at the same time. Both willing and able to protect what’s his at all costs. Protective and loyal. Capable of ending a life to keep them safe. And never hesitating to offer up his own. 

The last few days he’s been teetering on the edge between both personas. Days...moments...when he finds himself -even in a domestic situation when he’s close to the ‘other Tyler’; the one with the quick temper and the rage bubbling just under the surface. Whose eyes are darker and whose tone is harsher; jaw always clenched, finger itching for a trigger. And she notices...when he finds himself on that edge...how he’ll attempt to correct it; the way he closes his eyes and sharply inhales and slowly exhales, how his fists repeatedly open and close. He hates that side of himself; despises the way it can strip away all his control and turn him into something...someone...he doesn’t want to be. Feeling that they deserve more than ‘that guy’. Better than ‘that guy’. That one that’s done horrible things to people. As of if the other Tyler is a monster that he needs to keep under lock and key. Afraid that if he makes an appearance, he’ll never leave.

This morning he’s ‘new Tyler’. The one that’s a husband and a father. Whose arms have carried colicky babies as he’s paced the floor for hours in an attempt to soothe them. Whose fallen asleep alongside a teething toddler of feverish child, in a bed that’s way too small for his long, heavy frame. Who has spent Christmas Eve putting together dollhouses and bikes and the following morning has helped build lego sets with way too many pieces. Who’s coached soccer matches and t-ball games and has taken his oldest daughter to dance recitals and martial arts classes. Who never refuses an invitation or finds it hard to say no when asked to play with dolls even if he’s more comfortable getting dirty and sweaty while doing more ‘masculine’ things. Who has fetched a pregnant wife snacks at three in the morning and catered to every weird whim and craving without ever batting an eye or complaining. Who has put his hands and his ears against four baby bumps; eyes lighting up and face practically glowing each time he felt his child move or kick. Who cherishes every moment with his family because he knows just how fleeting they can be. How quickly things can disintegrate and disappear right before your eyes.

As she waits for the coffee to brew and the kettle to boil, she stands at the kitchen window and listens as he talks to Addie. Telling her about being a little boy growing up in Australia and getting up early every morning to watch the sunrise with his mom. How it -along with spending hours on the beach and in the water- was their ‘special time together’. There's both fondness and a profound sadness to his voice. He’d only been nine when his mother died; leaving him alone with his father, left to become nothing more than a punching bag for an alcoholic bully. Some of his physical scars can be attributed to his father; his fists, his belt, anything he could get his hands on to inflict pain and fear and assert dominance and control. But the deepest and most pronounced scars are what’s been left behind mentally. Years of torment and abuse leading to an adulthood filled with bad decisions, life altering PTSD, substance abuse issues, even a death wish. Combined with the death of his son -and the horrible choice of leaving him when at his most needy and vulnerable- leading him down a dangerous and unpredictable career path. Not caring if he caught a bullet; precariously close to putting one in his own brain. 

A month ago he’d mentioned that his memories of his mother are fading; her face and her voice not as easily recalled anymore. It’s been thirty one years, after all. A lot has happened the last time he saw her; smiling and waving at him as he watched her through the window of the school bus as it drove away. Four hours later, a police car would show up to take him home; his father already too drunk come for him. It’s the first time -in seven years- he’d talked about his mother while sober. And he’d been devastated that he could vividly remember even the smallest details of her death but not the ones of all the times they’d spent together. He’d cried in a way she’d never seen him cry before. All the pain and loss and regret surging out of him all at once; a broken and defeated little boy inside a grown man’s body. She’d felt so helpless; wishing there was more she could have done than just hold him and stroke his hair and kiss the tears away. Yet thankful he could be that way with her. Trusting her. Allowing himself to be his most vulnerable. His most human. 

Just as quick as the talk of his mother began, it’s over. Now he’s telling Addie about when they’d first lived in Australia. When Millie had been her age and they’d settled down just outside of Sydney in a small two bedroom apartment with barely any furniture and hardly any money in the bank. They’d been all but broke, but they’d been happy; they had a roof over their heads and food to put on the table and Millie to concentrate on. They’d spent a lot of time at the beach, putting her feet in the sand and letting her feel the cool, crisp water. Sitting as a family on a blanket and eating snacks brought from home and never once thinking about -or talking about- their previous life. About the job or Dhaka or how things went so wrong but somehow ended up so right. How despite being a ‘huge fuck up’ (in his own words), he’d somehow managed to meet someone incredible. Who had saved his life in every way a person can be saved.

She has to turn away at that point. It’s both overwhelming and humbling to hear that about yourself. To know that someone holds you up on such a high pedestal. That their faith and their trust is THAT strong. That their love for you is THAT powerful.

“What are you two doing?” she asks, as she carries mugs of coffee and tea out onto the patio.

“Just a little daddy, daughter time. Watching the sunrise. Talking.”

“Does she have a lot to say? Is she taking after her big sister already?”

“No one can talk THAT much.”

“You said you were just like Millie when you were little. Chatty.”

“Yeah. I was. Until I wasn’t.”

She doesn’t poke or prod. He’d become a different person after his mother died. He’d only been a kid when his entire life as he knew had disintegrated before his very eyes; robbed of the only parent who’d ever shown him love and treated him like a human being. He went from a precocious, outgoing and talkative nine year old to being angry and sullen and acting out at school. From having good grades to being held back a year and diagnosed with a learning disability he didn’t even have. From being meek and mild -a pacifist, almost- to kicking the shit out of kids on the playground who he felt wronged him.

“Women love the strong, silent type,” she reasons, then sets the mugs down on the table and rests her hands on his shoulders. Frowning at the tightness in the muscles. “You’re a little tense this morning.”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Pain?”

Tyler nods. “Other things too.”

She curls an arm around his neck and presses a kiss to his ear. “Bad dreams?”

“A couple.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” she pecks his cheek. “You don’t have to. But if you want to…”

“I know where to find you,” he says with a grin, then turns his face into her and kisses her. “You sleep alright?”

“Better than I thought I would. You want me to take her or are you going to keep hogging her?”

“I told you, I’m getting her on my side. I’ve got to start while she’s young. I need someone to take up Millie’s place when she betrays me.”

“You need to get a grip,” she tousles the top of his hand then slips into the chair across from him. “She’s only five.”

“She’ll be six in less than a week.”

“And there’s still tons of time left for her to love you and only you. It’s going to be a while before any boy comes along that can possibly take your place. You’ve got at least ten years before she starts dating and you have to sit on the front porch with a gun in your lap.”

“Just so you know, that’s exactly the type of teenage girl dad I’m going to be.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you. Tyler. I knew the second that tech told us it was a girl that you’d be that way.”

“I almost shit my pants when they said it was a girl. A girl? What the hell did I know about raising a girl?”

“It was karma. For being such a manwhore before you met me. Karma gave you a girl so you could spend years worrying about your daughter getting mixed up with the likes of you. Also because karma knew you’d look cute braiding hair and playing Barbies.”

“I swear if you even tell anyone that I do shit like that…”

“Everyone who knows you, lives in this house. They all know what you’re like. And so what if you have different voices for all the different dolls and you can braid hair better than I can. It’s sexy.”

His eyes narrow. Skeptical. “Yeah?”

“A man being a good dad is always sexy. And you’re a great dad. So that means you’re extra sexy.”

He smiles at that, fingers gently combing through Addie’s thick, dark hair.

“Are you okay?” Esme asks, knowing full well that he’s anything but. The darkness is creeping back in; the type of intensity that only the job brings out.

“No,” Tyler admits. “Not really.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“It’s not about what I want you to say. It’s about what YOU want to say. And if you don’t want to say anything right now, that’s okay. I’ve been with you long enough to know NOT to force you into anything. That pushing you will only make things worse. But I’ve been with you long enough to know you hold too much shit inside. Even though you know you don’t have to.”

“It’s just easier this way.”

“Easier for who? I know it’s not easier for you. Because I see how it weighs you down. I see what it does to you; holding so much inside of you. And please don’t say me. Because I’d rather you tell me and let me carry some of the weight instead of watching what it does to you.”

He nods slowly, processing her words. Her concern. Then lifts Addie to his chest and presses a kiss to her forehead before gently laying her on the blanket spread at his feet. Briefly watching her -a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth- before turning forwards in his seat. “You sleep okay?” he asks, as he reaches for his coffee.

“You already asked me that.”

His hands tightens around the handle on the mug. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on. What you’re thinking about. Where your head is right now. Because it’s not with me. And it’s not with the kids. Tyler, please. Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. Because one day I won’t be able to get through to you and that terrifies me. I didn’t lose you to Dhaka and I’m not going to lose you to your own mind.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re far from fine. Our best chance of beating the things messing with is to fight them as a team. We’re stronger together than we are apart. You’ve always said that.”

He nods. “Yeah, I have.”

“Just tell me. Just say something. Anything. We’ll go from there, okay? No matter what it is. Just say the first thing that pops into your head. No how bad you think it is.”

“I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“That I’m not going to make it home.”

“We don’t even know if you’re going anywhere yet. If Saju’s brother will even help you. If he won’t give you the names, you won’t be going to Mumbai. That’s what you saudl. You’re only going IF he helps.”

“There’s another way. If he won’t.”

“No. There are no other ways. It’s this way or no way. That’s what we agreed to. You said you’d only go if he agreed to help you. There was no other way discussed.”

“If I can get into Mahajan’s house…”

“That’s a dumb ass idea and you know it.”

“...if I can get in there, there's bound to be information somewhere. On who he has on his payroll. If I can find it…”

“Okay, no. That isn’t what we agreed to,” she argues. “You said you’d only go if Saju’s brother would give you what you wanted. That’s the only reason I agreed to any of this. Why I said I’d let you go.”

Tyler scowls. “I don’t need your fucking permission.”

“No. You don’t. But you asked me what I wanted and I said I was fine with you doing this ONLY if Saju’s brother came through. I didn’t agree to this other plan. You said you would stay here. With me and the kids. Don’t fucking turn around and back out on me. Don’t you dare do that.”

“Like I’ve done every other time? All the times I’ve done something that pisses you off? Where I’ve disappointed you?”

“I never said. I’ve never once said that.”

“You don’t have to say it. You think I can’t see it? That I don’t see the way you look at me.”

“I don’t look at you in any way. That’s in YOUR head. Don’t put that on me. I’ve been nothing but supportive of you over the last five years since you went back to the job the first time. Remember that? When you decided to go back without even talking to me about it? When I was pregnant with your sons? I sucked it up and I stood by you and I was fine with it. And yeah, you’ve made some dumb ass decisions and you’ve pissed me off and you’ve pushed me away. But not once have I ever looked at you with disappointment. Because I’ve never felt that way. I’ve always been proud of you and I’ve always had your back. No matter what. So don’t you fucking dare suggest anything else.”

He scoffs. “And now we’re going to fight? You ask me to tell you what’s wrong and you turn it into a fight.”

“I turned into a fight? You’re the one who gets bent out of shape and pissy and brings out your cheap shots. Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m someone on the job. Or one of your whores you used to have.”

“You’re going to go there? You’re going to stoop that low?”

“I don’t want to stoop at all. You’re the one who reacted. Badly. You’re so on edge and you’re so tense and you’re ready to bite my head off, no matter what I say.”

“Maybe if you didn’t put so much shit on me, I wouldn’t be like this.” Tyler retorts. “If you didn’t keep dumping all kinds of crap on me, maybe I wouldn’t be an asshole.”

“You what?” She sighs and throws her hands up in surrender. “I’m not going there with you. Because you obviously want to fight and I don’t want to. I don’t want to engage with you when you’re like this. So either calm down and talk to me like a rational human being…”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

“Like what? Like a wife? Like someone who loves you and worries about you? You don’t want me talking like that? You’d rather I didn’t give a shit? Would you rather I be like your ex? Because if that’s what you want me to be like…”

“What are you going to do? Cheat on me? Turn my kids against me?”

“Tyler, I’d stop before you say something you can’t take back. And that’s not what you want. That’s not who you are. So do us both a favour and don’t say anything else. I do not want this turning into a huge fight. It doesn’t need to be. I know you’re stressed and I know you’re worried and you’re on edge. But I am NOT the enemy. You think you’d realize that after seven fucking years.”

“When have I ever treated you like that?”

“Other than right now? Lots of times. When are you going to stop trying to push me away? When it finally works? When I finally reach my breaking point and I can’t take it anymore? When I’m too tired to fight anymore. When you finally manage to get rid of me?”

“That’s not what I want.”

“But that’s what’s going to happen,” Esme insists. “Because everyone has a breaking point. Even me. And you’re going to push and push and one day I won’t be able to take it anymore. And it won’t matter how much I love you. That won’t be enough. I’m already starting to feel like it isn’t. That it isn’t enough for you.”

“It is,” the edge is gone from his voice, replaced with raw emotion. “It is enough.”

“We’re not going to make it if deep down you don’t want to. And sometimes that’s what it feels like. That maybe I’m more invested in this than you are. That you’re just here. But you’d rather be somewhere else.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not true. I don’t want to be anywhere else. I’ve made you my whole life. My whole existence is you. That isn’t enough for you?”

“It’s always been enough. I never asked to be worshipped and put on the pedestal you’ve put me on. That’s not why I did what I did to save you. I don’t want you to worship me, I want you to love me.”

“I do. You know I do. I love you with everything I am and everything I have. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. I almost did. What more do you want from me?”

“I just want you. I want Tyler. The Tyler that’s sweet and patient and loving and…”

“He’s gone.”

“No. He’s not.”

“As soon as this all started. All this shit with Mahajan. All the threats. He left. And I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve thought that before and you were wrong. He always comes back. Always.”

“Not this time. He’s gone. That Tyler’s not coming back.”

“I’ll find him,” she remains adamant. “I found him the first time. I’ll find him again.”

“What if he doesn’t want to be found?”

“It sounds like you’re the one that doesn’t want him to be found. That you’re the one that’s given up.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice is choked with emotion, tears well in his eyes. “That I made your life like this. That I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“I can’t do this with you.” she pushes her chair away from the table and stands. “I love you but I am not doing this right now. Because I have kids to get up and get ready for school and we have Saju’s brother coming. I can not deal with whatever the hell this is on top of it.”

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says, then stands alongside his chair and holds his face in her hands. “You’ve never had anything to be sorry for.”

She kisses him. Long and soft and sweet; the salt of his tears clinging to her lips. And she presses her lips to her forehead before quickly heading for the door and disappearing into the house.

***

He arrives shortly before noon. Accompanied by Allison and stepping out of the backseat of a chauffeured Mercedes. Tall and broad shouldered; crisp black slack and black button down that’s right across his wide chest and around impressive biceps. Stylish. Well put together. An air of confidence without the stench of conceit or accompanying arrogance. Even with his coal black hair cropped shot to his head and a five o’clock shadow gracing his jaw, the resemblance is astonishing. 

She’s seen pictures of ‘pre Dhaka’ Saju; Neysa sending her copies of old photos through email. Of him during his special forces days and when they’d gotten married. Tall and handsome; soulful dark eyes and a kind face. A far cry from the Saju that she’d gotten to know; the man that tried to pull off the impossible in an effort to save his family. It’s the eyes that she remembers the most. How they’d stared down at her while he’d had her pinned to the forest floor; a boot on her chest to keep her in place, the muzzle of his rifle pressed against her forehead. His finger had been on the trigger but he’d hesitated; looking down at her with eyes filled with so much pain and regret. A man haunted by the choices he had to make and the lives he had to take; faced with no other options. He could have killed her. He SHOULD have killed her. But instead he’d walked away; never saying a word but curling a hand around her bicep and helping her to her feet before disappearing into the woods. 

The next day he’d given his life for hers. And Ovi’s. Battling to the bitter end to get them safely across the Sultana Kamal Bridge.

The last to be introduced, she freezes when he takes one of her hands in both of his; unable to reciprocate when he presses a kiss to one cheek, then the other.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and he regards her with warm, kind eyes. “I just...I can’t...just wow.”

His smile is soft. Reassuring. “The resemblance is uncanny, I realize. I’ve been told as much my entire life. Ever since I was a child I’ve been told how much I look like him. And how much I sound like him, as an adult. I’m sure it’s a little unsettling for you.”

“A little,” Esme admits. “That last time I saw your brother was seven years ago. On the bridge. Now it’s like he’s standing right in front of me.”

“You were the last one to see him. Alive?”

“We both were,” she reaches for Ovi’s hand and pulls him to her side. “We were together. We saw that happened. HOW it happened. I’m sorry. That he even got dragged into that mess. He was a good man. A brave man.”

“He killed your friends. Your team. He was supposed to kill you.” He glances at Tyler. “Both of you.”

“He did what he had to do to save his family.” she reasons. “Tyler and I would both do the same thing to protect our family. He died protecting me. Trying to get me across the bridge. And he didn’t even know me.”

Anil takes her hand once again, squeezing softly. “I wasn’t surprised to hear that he spared you. It was never in his nature to hurt a woman. To nurture, yes. But never to hurt. There was no way he ever could have pulled that trigger. Not even under the most desperate of circumstances.”

They retreat to the living room and she takes a seat on the couch; nervously rubbing the palms of her hands along her thighs, watching as Tyler and Anil stand side by side at the patio door. The latter passing compliments on the house and property and the stunning view; commenting how he’d always wanted to visit Australia. That he and Saju had planned to do it one day. Perhaps when they were both old enough to retire and could both appreciate and enjoy the downtime. Only they’d never gotten the chance.

Tyler is more relaxed; his face softer, eyes not as dark. Shoulders less tense and his tone no longer harsh or irritable. They’d made up after the kids had gone to school and Ovi had taken Declan swimming while Addie napped. A brief, intense argument that somehow transferred into a rational, heartfelt conversation, which led to love making. Their favorite way of coping; a much needed escape from all the worry and the fear of an unpredictable and dangerous situation. She couldn’t remember the last time it had been THAT slow and gentle. When his hands and his kisses and the way he moved inside of her had been that tender and loving. Accompanied by whispered apologies and promises; tears trickling down her face as she desperately clung to him during the aftermath. Wondering how they could be that close yet feel so far apart.

But his smile is genuine when he sits down beside her. The side of his thigh pressing against hers; his hand on the small of her back as he places a kiss to her temple. And she gives a smile of her own, her palm against his knee as she leans into him; forehead resting against his cheek. It’s comforting; his mere presence beside her. The warmth of his body, his familiar smell, the weight of his hand as it slides along her lower back and comes to rest on her hip. She needs this. The simple contact. Just having him next to her; knowing that no matter what, he’ll stop at nothing to keep her safe.

“By now I’m sure you know all that there is to know about me,” Anil begins, as he takes a seat across from them, giving Ovi a smile of appreciation when he pours him a cup of coffee from the carafe that sits on the coffee table. “And about my business. In the same way I know all about the two of you. Quite the predicament you found yourselves in. Alongside my brother.”

Tyler gives a small, dry laugh. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“Quite the thing to bring two people together. That kind of danger AND a near death experience. There must be quite a bond. Between the two of you. Surviving something like that together.”

“I like to think there is,” Esme says, and Tyler gives a small smile and nod and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“I’m definitely a lucky guy. She’s stuck by me. On the bridge. And through the last seven years. It hasn’t been easy. I’ve put her through a lot.”

She gives his knee a squeeze. “But not as much as you think.”

“And five children?” Anil asks. “That’s quite the accomplishment. For a man who should have died on that bridge.”

“Only thing worthwhile I have accomplished,” Tyler says. “They’re all that matters to me. My wife and my kids. That’s my entire world right there. They’re why I contacted you. Why I need your help. To keep them safe.”

Anil nods, then leans forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “You realize that what you’re asking for, if it gets into the wrong hands, it will only make things worse. Put even bigger targets on their backs. That I should tell you it’s foolish and that I don’t make a habit out of leading men to their graves.”

“You have every reason to tell me to fuck off and mind my business,” Tyler counters. “That I should just let you and your people handle everything. But I think you realize that I’m not just going to sit back and wait for shit to go down. That I’m not going to let them get close to my family. That I’ll find a way to stop them, with or without you. Although without you might make your job harder. What with me going around and ruffling feathers in Mumbai.”

“It actually would hamper things,” Anil agrees.

“I also know you wouldn’t come here just to tell me to fuck off. So why are you here? Why come all this way?”

“Some things are better discussed in person,” Anil reasons.

“What kind of things?”

“I can give you what you want. What you need. But I want some things in return. From you.”

Tyler arches a brow. “Which are?”

“I want to take part. In your little mission. As you know, I have extensive experience. With special forces. And my own business.”

“You’re a merc?”

Anil shrugs. “You can say I dabble in it, from time to time. If needed. Sometimes we can’t find outside help. I’d like to offer my service. I have my own reasons for wanting revenge against Mahajan. And revenge is a powerful motivator. I want to avenge my brother. What better way than with the blood of his executioner on my hands. He sent Saju to his death. I want to send him to his.”

“You want to kill him?” Ovi speaks up. “My father?”

“Your father is not a good man. He deserves death. For what he’s done to others. And I want to be the one to give it to him. For Saju.”

Ovi opens his mouth to speak once again, but all words fail him and he rushes from the room, slamming the patio door closed behind him.

“I’ll go,” Allison offers.

“No. I will,” Esme says. “This discussion is out of my pay grade. I’m just here as the wife and the business partner. Anything else there is to know, Tyler can tell me.”

He nods, then presses a chaste kiss to her lips before she hurries after Ovi.

“It’s hard to hear,” Anil sighs.. “That your father is a monster.”

“He knows who and what his father is,” Tyler says. “It’s just not easy to sit across from the man who wants to kill him. It’s still his father. Regardless of how crappy a father he is. So you want in? You want to help?”

“I think you could use the help. Someone with my experience. I know if he were alive and you asked him, Saju wouldn’t hesitate to help you. Just like he didn’t hesitate in Dhaka. Even though he was supposed to kill you.”

“I’ve got other guys going with me. But having you would be a hell of a lot of help. Especially if you can take out Mahajan.”

“It would be my pleasure to help. And to kill him. I want nothing more than to watch him take his last breath.”

“What’s the second thing?” Tyler asks.

“It’s a business proposition. I’ve read your file. I’ve heard all the stories. Both true and rumour. I could use someone like you. You’ve started your own mercenary business?”

Tyler nods.

“Like I said, we often have a hard time finding mercenaries. My brother trusted you. Enough to put his mission aside and to work with you to get Ovi safely home. That’s all the confidence I need. I want you...your business...to partner with me. I want you to provide me...when needed...with mercenaries to get jobs done.”

“You want me to supply the guys.”

“And whatever your guys need, if they don’t already have, I can get for them. No problems there. I would reward them, and you, very handsomely. Not to mention I’d offer a very substantial donation to help get your operation off the ground. Is this something you’d be interested in? I can show you the numbers I’ve already come up with.”

“I don’t know if…”

“Let me show you,” Anil waves Allison over, and she opens the briefcase in her hand and removes a leather bound folder. “I was bold and went and drew something up. If you’d be so inclined as to indulge me.”

Tyler nods, then takes the folder and flips it open.

The first number you see, that would be my initial investment. So to speak. Think of it as a donation. A gift. Six point five million dollars. US. To guarantee that your business will supply me, on demand, with what it needs.”

“That’s…” Tyler’s eyes widen. “...generous…”

“Not nearly as much as I think you deserve. But it’s a start. There can always be more. Your children will never want for anything. Their entire lives. The next page is what I’m willing to pay for each man you can give me. Along with their salary.”

Tyler flips over the page, shaking his head at the numbers printed before him. “This is serious? This is what you’re willing to give me? Give them?”

“A hundred and twenty five thousand to you, per man that you give me. That’s too little?”

“No. It’s...I don’t even know what to say…”

“Seventy five thousand dollars per man plus travel and spending allowance. If the job is done to my satisfaction and in the time I allot, another twenty five thousand for them. If it’s too little, I can juggle the numbers and…”

“No. It’s enough. It’s more than enough.”

“I’m a generous man. Life has been good to me. Financially speaking. I’d like it to be good for you as well. And good for your children. They have long lives ahead of them. I’d like to make sure they’re well taken care of. And then some. Is this something perhaps you could agree on? Going into business with me?”

“I’d have to talk to my wife. We’re in this together. I can’t make any decisions without her. I’ve done that too much. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I’d expect nothing less. It’s a partnership, no? In both marriage and business. I can understand the need to speak with her. I’ll be in town until Friday. If perhaps we could meet Thursday evening? Over dinner? The four of us?”

Tyler nods. “We could do that.”

“I hear you're taking a trip. With your wife. I have men I can put here. To work alongside the ones you already have. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Consider it done. I’ll have them contact you tomorrow. And this is yours…” he motions for Allison to open the briefcase once again, and he removes a standard file folder from inside and holds it out to Tyler. “...to read, just for now, if you wish. Not to be used unless we come to an agreement. These are the men you want. I trust you won’t go after them until you talk to me.”

“I’m not going anywhere until after my daughter’s birthday party next weekend, so…”

“Excellent, I look forward to chatting with you more. I have some stories of my brother I’d love to share. I’ve exhausted all my other audiences.”

“I’d like to hear them.”

“He was a good man. You’re a lot alike. In more ways than one. I must go,” Anil stands. “It was a long flight and I’d like to get some rest. I’ll be in touch.”

Tyler accompanies him to the door, then steps out onto the front porch just as the Mercedes returns and parks at the end of the driveway.

“You’re a lucky man,” Anil says, and claps him on the shoulder. “You survived. And you have a beautiful wife and a beautiful family. Don’t take it for granted. I did. Don’t make the same mistakes as me.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and then shakes the hand offered to him.

“Try not to let them inside your head.” Anil calls to him as he heads for the car. “They get into your head? That’s when they’ve won.”

Tyler nods, absentmindedly tapping the folder against the palm of his hand. Shoulders tense and jaw clenched as he watches the Mercedes drive away.


	44. Chapter 44

He’s unsure of how long he’s been sitting there; on the bottom step of the pack patio, forearms resting on his thighs and file folder still in hand. Staring out at the beach and the water, yet seeing nothing at the same time. His attention elsewhere; not with the expanse of near white sand or the sunlight that catches the ripples in the ocean or the brilliant blue sky. Instead focused on a city thousands of miles away. Mahajan sitting in his cramped and dirty prison cell; his power and influence extending far beyond those brick walls and barbed wire fences.

The rage is building; sitting heavily on his chest, gnawing at his stomach, tightening the muscles in his shoulders. What had started out a low, slow simmer is not threatening to explode; all patience, every ounce of empathy, every shred of humanity and compassion quickly evaporating. The edge is back. Those rough and ragged pieces that all fit together to make something savage and uncontrollable. An intensity and and a fury that is impossible to rein in; a merciless and powerful need for vengeance. For the opportunity to right Mahajan’s wrongs, one drop of blood...one body...at a time. He knows if he looks in the mirror he’ll no longer recognize himself. That all he’ll see staring back at him is darkness. Anger. That the man who was there a month ago, a week, even a day ago, is long gone. He doesn’t know how he feels about that; if he’s terrified that his old persona has returned or if he’s actually relieved. Maybe it was there a long time ago. Maybe the old Tyler has ALWAYS been there; just thriving under the surface. Maybe he’s just been ‘faking it until he makes it’ for the last six months; relegating himself to a kinder, gentler, more patient person when in reality all he really did want was his previous life back. Maybe this..his former self...is who he’s supposed to be.

Who he’s MEANT to be.

In an hour he’ll feel different. It will make him sick to his stomach that he even allowed himself to think that way. Realizing that he’s far better off with the life he has now; happier, calmer. No longer relying on booze and meds to numb unimaginable mental and physical pain. He’ll regret ever slipping back into his old ways, cursing himself for being weak and not fighting back hard enough to stop it from happening. Disgusted that he ever slipped that far down and let his old self resurface. He’ll remind himself that THAT isn’t who he is anymore. He’s not the same guy that went into Dhaka seven years ago to rescue a drug lord’s kid. He’s not even the same person who’d gone to Ireland after being conned by Michael McMann. Or who’d walked from New Zealand without even a look back. He’s better now. He has a life. A good life. He’s someone’s husband and someone’s father and his existence matters to them. He has people that love him. Depend on him. And they deserve so much better than the ‘old Tyler’.

Except the folder in his hand reminds him that that’s exactly who they need. The names concealed within, the faces, capable of taking everything away from him. His wife...his kids...they NEED the old Tyler. Even if that means the new one never makes it back.

He wants a drink. It’s far beyond a craving now. It’s a necessity.

“Tyler?” 

He’s vaguely aware of her voice, of her walking towards him through the sand. His heart hammers in his chest; he can almost hear the rush of blood in his head. All he can think of is that he needs to protect her. At all costs. He needs to keep her and the kids safe, no matter what it takes. And if that means he has to walk into another apartment filled with hostiles and take them out one by one, he’ll do it. This time he’ll like it. This time he wants to see the holes that open up when he puts bullets in their heads or chests. He wants to hear the cracking of bones as his hands wrap around their necks. He wants to see the blood that pools underneath them and taste his own sweat as it drips from his forehead and settles on his lips. He’s never wanted any of that before; killing out of necessity, not enjoyment. But now? Now he’ll do it for both.

“Tyler!”

The tone of her voice and the touch of her hand on his shoulder snaps him out of it. Just like that he’s back where he’s supposed to be. At home with his feet in the sand and the smell of salt hanging heavily in the air; wind keeping the stifling humidity at bay and the sweat from gathering on his skin and the telltale sound of the tide rolling in. And he feels the release as he looks up at her; the tension slipping away, his jaw unclenching, shoulders loosening.

“Are you alright?” Her hand moves from his shoulder to side of his neck, thumb brushing against both the tattoo and the scar that reside there. “You were really spaced out there for a few minutes.”

He gives a reassuring smile. “I’m good. I was just thinking about something.”

“Well whatever you were thinking about must have been really intense,” a frown tugs at the corners of her mouth and she glides the pad of her thumb over his lips. “I called you five times and you never even reacted. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. It was just something Anil said before he left. About not taking things for granted and making the same mistakes he did. That I’m a lucky guy. That I have a beautiful wife and kids.”

“He called me beautiful? He really said that?”

“Why would you be surprised? You don’t think other guys look at you? They even check you out when I’m with you.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “It’s nice to be called beautiful.”

“I call you beautiful all the time. You just never believe me.”

“Husbands are supposed to call their wives beautiful. It’s in the vows, you know.”

“I don’t remember that part. I remember ‘through sickness and health’ and ‘for rich or for poor’ and something about not fucking anyone else.”

“The minister did not say ‘don’t fuck anyone else’. He said forsaking all others.”

“Same goddamn thing. I remember all of that but I do not remember having to promise to tell you you’re beautiful even if it’s bullshit. I would have remembered that.”

“You don’t even remember what you had for breakfast this morning,” Esme teases.

“Okay, good point. But it’s my short term memory that’s fucked since Dhaka. Not my long term memory. So I would definitely remember if that was part of the vows.”

“You were supposed to read between the lines.”

A grin pulls at the corners of his mouth, and he places his hands on her hips. “Was I now.”

“It was in there. In the fine print. Right next to ‘I promise to always clean the toilets and take the garbage out and get all the spiders and snakes out of the house. And rub your feet when they’re sore’.”

“I didn’t see any of that in fine print but I still do all those things.”

“It was there,” she insists, and reaches under the collar of his shirt to pull out the necklace he wears underneath; a braided leather cord that holds a flat titanium disk engraved with their respective zodiac symbols. “It said ‘I promise to call my wife beautiful even when she looks like shit.’ I saw it.”

“You never look like shit.”

“Even when I'm in three day old pajamas and I’m covered in baby puke?”

“Not even then. You might smell like shit but you don’t LOOK like shit.”

Smirking, she lays both hands on the sides of his face; thumbs pressing into his beard. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I am. And I tell you you’re beautiful because it’s true. Because it’s what I think.”

“Your brain works very well sometimes,” she teases, then kisses him. He likes when she takes charge sometimes, allowing her to strip him -at least momentarily- of his control.

It happens now; enjoying the way she kisses him with the same intensity that he usually kisses HER with. Her tongue slipping between his lips and pressing against his teeth; body leaning into his and her hands moving to her ears as he opens his mouth to her. His hands leaving her hips and settling on the backs of her thighs. sliding up the hem of her simple cotton sundress. Frowning and then laughing when his fingertips come in contact with spandex.

“What?” she asks.

“Are you kidding me right now? Shorts?”

“The dress is too short. I never tried it on before I bought it. When I bend over you can see my ass. Not very visitor friendly.”

“Take the shorts off and you can bend over in front of me all you want.”

“Don’t you get tired of seeing my ass?”

“Never.”

“You don’t ever wish for a different ass to look at?”

“Nope. I like yours. Why would I want a different one? And you let me do things to yours, so…”

“Don’t be a pig,” she scolds, and then perches herself on his lap; sideways with both legs dangling over his thigh and an arm draped across the back of his neck; pressing a kiss to his temple before resting the side of her head shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Stop asking me that.”

“Don’t be grumpy.”

“I’m not being grumpy. It just annoys me when you keep asking me that after I’ve told you I’m fine. And I am. Fine.” He circles her waist with both arms, clasping his hands together and resting them on her hip. “That was nice by the way. You usually don’t kiss me like that.”

“I kiss you all the time.”

“Not like THAT.”

“Now you’re complaining about the way I kiss you?”

“Definitely not complaining. I like the way you kiss me. I especially like it when you kiss me like THAT.”

“Well you’re very kissable,” she reasons. “So it’s not a burden to do it. If you were a bad kisser, we’d have issues.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty good too.”

“Just pretty good?”

“Your mouth is pretty talented,” Tyler confirms. “My dick says eleven out of ten.”

“You’re almost forty one. Why is your mind always in the gutter?”

“There’s worse places it could be, trust me,”

“Now that’s true.” She nuzzles the tip of her nose against his ear, then kisses it.

“You’re okay?”

She grins. “Oh, it’s your turn now.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler...”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“I’m fine,” she assures him.

“You’re sure?”

“Don’t YOU start.”

“I worry about you too, you know.”

“I know you do. But I think I get so caught up worrying about you, that I don’t realize you’re worrying about me. But I am. Fine. Honest.”

He places a kiss on her shoulder. “Even after this morning?”

“It was a fight, Tyler. Couples fight. Unfortunately when we fight, we tend to say a lot of hurtful, stupid shit to each other. And that has to stop. Because I hate how I feel afterwards. I hate that I can be such a bitch to someone who loves me as much as you do.”

“Everything you said was true. I needed to hear it. I do keep pushing you away. I don’t even know if I realize I’m doing it. I don’t MEAN to do it. Because that’s the last thing I want. To push you away.”

“I know you don’t mean to do it. That it’s just something that’s ingrained in you. That it’s a defensive mechanism when you feel like someone’s getting too close.”

“You're not just someone,” he gently argues. “You’re my wife. The mother of my kids. Which is I don’t know why I do it. How can I stop something I’m not even aware of?”

“I can always tell you to fuck off when you do it,” she teasingly suggests. “That can be the code language for ‘get your shit together’.”

“I’m being serious here.”

“We’ll figure something out. Some ways to get you out of it. Goddamnit you’re a tough nut to crack, Tyler Rake. If I’d known you’d be this much of a challenge…”

“You would have left me on the bridge.”

“Umm, no. That is not what I was going to say and we’re not even going there. I would never...ever...think that, let alone say it. So get that shit out of your head. I was getting you off that bridge, no matter what it took. And you would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t have left me there.”

“Not in a million years,”

“We’ll work things out,” she assures him. “I know things are hard right now. We’re stressed and we’re overwhelmed and we’re taking it out on each other. And it sucks. Huge. And I hate when we do it. I hate when we fight when you hurt feelings and…”

He removes one of his arms from around her waist and places his hand on the side of her head, lips pressed to her temple. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know you don’t. But it still hurts. And I don’t mean to hurt you, either. You’re the last person on earth I want to hurt. And I’m sorry. For being such a bitch lately.”

“Just lately? What about the last seven years?”

She laughs. “You’re the one who married me, knowing what I was like.”

“You were a good girl when I married you. You were nice.”

“I’m not nice now? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“You’re a little...difficult.”

“Oh that’s rich. Coming from you. The man who loves to make my life difficult. Who’s responsible for all my gray hair.”

“Excuse you?” Tyler scoffs. “I have way more gray hair than you do and they all have your name on them.”

“I give you gray hair and possibly an ulcer, but you’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

He nods, then presses a kiss to her shoulder. “You have no idea how much.”

“Can we not get all up in our feels? Normally I’m okay with it, but I think things are going back to normal and I’m PMS'ing and I’ve cried enough today.”

“If things are going back to normal, that means…”

“We’re not discussing the baby thing right now. We agreed to talk about it in six months. What’s this?” she asks, and reaches for the folder that sits on the step beside him. 

“That’s one of the things we DO need to talk about.”

“Okay…”

“Without fighting,” he adds.

“No more fighting. I promise not to even raise my voice. As long as you promise the same,” she pulls back to look at him. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he says, and places a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I haven’t even looked at it.”

“What is it?”

“The names of the guys that Mahajan has working for him. The ones that have been making all the threats.”

She sets the folder on her lap. “They’re all in Mumbai?”

“As far as I know. I don’t think any of them have made their way here. Anil would know about it. And I know for sure he’d tell me. He seems to know what he’s doing.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I don’t know him well enough.”

“What do your instincts say?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t listened to them in a while.”

“That’s not like you. You SHOULD listen to them. You have amazing instincts. You always have. I trust them. That should be enough for YOU to trust them again.”

He nods.

“It’s okay you know,” she says, and runs a fingertip along the scar across the bridge of his nose. “To be the old Tyler too. You don’t have to keep him locked away. Especially now. I kind of need that Tyler right now. So do the kids.”

“I know. I just worry. That if he comes back…”

“You can be both. You have to be both. There’s no other choice. You have to be the old Tyler right now. Job Tyler. The second you decided to get back into things...before we even knew about all this craziness...you knew you’d have to be him again. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Being him when you NEED to be.”

“And what if I can’t get the other one back? What if the old one sticks around when I’m off the job too?”

“That won’t happen. You won’t let it happen, I know you. I trust you.”

He smiles, and she leans in to place a kiss against his forehead.

“Why haven’t you looked at it yet?” Esme asks. “I thought you wanted to know who these people are?”

“I do.”

“But…”

“But…” he softly rubs her thigh. “...there’s a catch.”

“I heard the catch. Anil wants in. He wants to help in Mumbai. He wants to be the one to kill Mahajan. I just figured you’d say yet to that.”

“I did. But that’s not all he wants.”

“Oh God,” she groans, and drops her forehead onto his shoulder.

“It’s not that bad. It’s not bad at all, actually. But it involves both of us. About the business.”

“Alright. How…?”

“Let’s go inside,” Tyler suggests, kissing her cheek and then sliding her legs off his thighs. “There’s something I need to show you.”

***

Esme sits on the couch with the leather folder in her lap; concern clouding her eyes and furrowing her brow. And she glances up when he emerges from the kitchen and stands alongside her, holding out a mug of tea.

“Is there booze in it?” she asks. “Are you trying to get me drunk? I may need to be drunk for this. Or tipsy at least.”

“If there was a booze in the house, I would have been drunk hours ago. Probably days ago.”

She frowns. “That is not what I wanted to hear, but I do admire your honesty. How bad is this? Whatever you’re about to show me? Are these stills from some unearthed sex tape you made with one of your old pieces of ass?”

“Only sex video I have is the one on my phone. That I made with you.”

She grabs one of the throw pillows and swats him with that. “I told you to erase that!”

“No one is going to see it. Relax. It’s been four years and it hasn’t gotten out yet.”

“I am so going in your phone later and deleting it. What is wrong with you? Keeping that?!”

“It’s my help,” Tyler reasons. “When I have to study alone.”

“I am going to kick you right in the ass. You don’t even have a lock on your phone. What if Ovi picks it up and goes through your gallery?”

“I’ll beat him for snooping in my phone.”

“Never mind him. What about one of the kids? When they’re using your phone to watch surfing stuff on YouTube or when they’re playing games? That will be great. If Millie goes to school and tells her teacher she saw a video of her mom and dad making babies.”

“It's in a locked folder. Relax. I’ll prove it to you later. Can we get on with this? Why are talking about sex tapes?”

“Because I’m nervous and I ramble when I’m nervous. You know this.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Tyler promises. “I already said it’s nothing bad. Just look at it.”

“What is it? A detailed history of all your conquests? Instead of a little black book you have a whole damn folder?”

“Esme…”

“Sorry. You’re making me even more nervous standing there like that. You’re kind of intimidating. I see why people pee their pants around you.”

Sighing in exasperation, he takes a seat alongside her. “I think you just gave me fifty more gray hairs and made my ulcer worse.”

“You don’t even HAVE an ulcer..”

Tyler stares at her pointedly. “Not yet.”

Scowling, she directs an elbow to his ribs and then takes a swig of tea before giving him the mug to hold. “Okay before I start, at any point am I going to want to punch you in the dick?”

“Nope. My dick is safe.”

“Alright…” she sighs. “...I swear to God, if you sold me to Saju’s brother…”

“Wait..” he lays a palm against the folder, keeping it closed. “...is that an option?”

Her eyes narrow.

“He did call you beautiful.”

“Your dick might not be as safe as you think it is, Tyler.”

“He couldn’t afford my asking price. No one could.”

“Fine,” she dramatically huffs. “That’s a good save. I’ll spare your dick. For now. What exactly is this?”

“Just read it.”

“What is it?”

“A business proposal. Shut up and read it.”

The frown on her face intensifies; brow furrowing. But then the creases disappear and her expression softens as she reads. “Is this for real? This is what he proposed?”

“Part of it,” Tyler confirms.

“He wants us to provide him with mercs? And that…” she points to the figure printed out...in bold type...on the page. “...is what he’s willing to give us?”

“To help get things off the ground. There’s a lot we can do with that kind of money. That would cover a lot of supplies, a lot of technology. We could build another garage...a much bigger one...and use that as an office to run shit out of. We have the property; we can do what we want with it. Build whatever the fuck we want.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

Tyler nods in agreement. “He’ll also give us a hundred and twenty five grand for each guy we give him for a job.”

Her eyes widen. “Each individual job or…”

“Each job.”

“Holy fuck…” she breathes. “That’s..wow...that’s…”

“Intense?”

“I was going to say insane, but that works too. What about the payout? What do the mercs get?”

“Way more than I ever saw working for Nik,” he says and reaches out to flip the page over.

“Jesus Christ!” Esme exclaims. “I never saw that after two jobs, never mind one! And travel expenses and any medical if needed? This guy has money to throw around, I guess. He must be the filthy rich brother.”

“He must be. I wonder what he’d pay for you.”

“I’m going to ignore that.”

“I’m joking, I would never, ever sell you. Not for all the money in the world. I might rent you out for the night…” he chuckles when she glares at him, then wraps an arm around her shoulders; pressing a kiss to the side of her before pulling her tight into his side. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d be crazy not to accept it.”

“I’m not accepting anything. We are. We’re in this together, remember? Stronger together than we are apart.”

She gasps dramatically. “Are you telling me that you held off on making a life altering decision until you could talk to me? I am so proud of you! Progress!”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“I’m teasing. And I AM proud of you. Before you have just agreed to this all on your own. But you didn’t react emotionally; you reacted logically. And that IS huge for you. And it makes me love you even more. Which I didn’t think was even possible.”

“Well I love you more every day, so…”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I know. But if it was, I’d win.”

“Oh, you think so do you.”

“I know so.”

“Do you want to do this? Pretend there’s no catch. Pretend this is being offered without those names being dangled over your head. If he’d just come to you with this proposal, would you take it?”

Tyler nods. “I would. This is good money. This is fucking amazing money. Our kids will never, ever, want for anything. We can give them everything we never had growing up. We can pay for them to go to college. They won’t have to take out loans or say ‘fuck it’ and join the military. We can avoid all that because we can afford to send them to school. And we can put money away...huge money...for each of them. So when they are grown and leave home, they can start off on the right foot. They won’t end up like we did after Dhaka,”

“Those were extraordinary circumstances,” Esme reminds him.

“They won’t have to struggle. If they run into hard times...even if it’s half as bad as what we went through...they won’t have to worry like we did. Because I remember what that was like. Not knowing how the hell we were going to pay the rent and put food on the table on top of getting ready to have a baby. That fucking sucked. And I felt like a hue failure. I had a new wife and a kid on the way and I couldn’t even work. Not even some shit minimum wage job so I could feed you and buy diapers.”

“You’d just gotten out of the hospital,” she points out. “You were recuperating from being shot in the throat. Among other things. Those weren’t just average times, Tyler. Those were shitty times. And none of it was your fault. You almost died. Saving me and Ovi. You’ve never been a failure.”

“I felt like one. And those times were shit and they did suck.”

“But they weren’t your fault. None of that was your fault. And if I have to remind you of that every day for the rest of your life, I will. Because you’re a good man. Whether you think you are or not.”

“You make me want to be a better man. And I’m trying. I am.”

“I know you are. And you’re doing a good job. You’ve come a long way in seven years. Maybe you can’t see it, but I can.”

Smiling, he lays a hand on the back of her head and kisses her brow.

“I think we should do this,” Esme says. “I think we’d be insane not to. And with this kind of deal, you can be home more than you’re away. You won’t need to go out into the field as much because you can afford to hire some really good, experienced guys on top of who we already have. And that’s what we want, right? What YOU want? To be in the job, but not IN the job?”

“It is. It’s actually what I want.”

“So our minds are made up then. You tell him we’ll do it. We’d be foolish not to do it.”

He nods. 

“Holy shit,” she reaches up to lay a hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her. “Are we actually agreeing on something? Mark this date down! I think the last time we agreed on something was when we decided to get married. Or when we decided on what to name Millie.”

“We’ve agreed on other things since then.”

“Like what?”

“We agreed to come back to Australia. We agreed on this house.”

“Good point.”

“Last night we agreed on pizza for dinner.”

“But you didn’t agree on toppings because you and your daughter both like pineapple and us normal people think you’re gross.”

“Okay. Well, this morning, we both agreed I’m an asshole.”

“Stubborn asshole.” she corrects. “We agreed on stubborn asshole. But you’re my stubborn asshole. So…” she turns her body sideways, tucking herself tightly into him, placing her head on his collarbone. “...now you have to call Anil and tell him we’re taking the offer.”

“I will do that,” he says, combing his fingers through her hair and then resting his hand on the nape of her neck. “He wants to have dinner. Thursday night. The four of us.”

“Four of us? He's got a lady friend?”

“I think he means Allison.”

“But she’s with Kyle. Or so I thought.”

“I don’t think it’s a double date. I think it’s just business partners going out to dinner together.”

“Only I get benefits from MY business partner. That’s better than any hourly wage. I’d rather be paid in orgasms when you’re the one in charge of handing them out. You’re pretty good at it. You’ve got some skills. No wonder if you had so many happy ladies in ports all over the world. I wonder if they miss you. If they wonder if you’re still alive. I bet they’re disappointed you don’t call anymore.”

“I dunno. But I know my other wife is disappointed I spend all my time here.”

“See! I am your favourite.”

“You are. You always have been. Even when you piss me off.”

“Which isn’t often.”

He snorts.

“Okay, so maybe I piss you off a lot.”

“It’s not THAT much. Just, you know, every couple days.”

“But I make it up to you,” Esme points out.

“Yeah, You do. I can’t deny that. You’re pretty repentant. In certain ways. Although I don’t think when a priest says ‘get down on your knees’, he meant like that.”

She giggles. “I must have misunderstood. Lucky you. A lot of husbands wish that they had that problem.”

“Oh believe me, it’s not a problem. I am NOT complaining.”

Sighing, she nestles her head into his chest, fingers fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. And it’s several minutes before she speaks again. “Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“I like when we’re like this. How we are when we’re alone. When there’s no one around to bug us or interrupt us. We’re different then. In a good way.”

He nods.

“It’ll be good for us. To get away for a few days. To just be alone. We deserve that. We NEED that. Especially before you leave. Because I know it’s a sure thing now. You’re going to Mumbai. And I need that time with you. Just you. Before you go.”

“I need that too,” he says. “That time with you.”

“I really want you to come home. I NEED you to come home.”

“I will,” he promises, and tightens his hold on her. “I’ll come home.”

“Alive.”

“I didn’t think I needed to stress that I’d be alive when I got back.”

“I feel better knowing that Anil is going with you. He wants the same thing you do: revenge. And neither of you will stop until you get it. And that should scare me; that you won’t stop. But it doesn’t. It makes me love you even more. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“Why would it?”

“That I want my husband to kill people for me? For my kids?”

“I either kill them or they kill you. Which would you rather?”

“I want you to make them pay,” she says. “I don’t care how you do it. But you make them suffer and you make them pay for ever threatening our kids.”

“I’ll make them pay,” Tyler vows. “In the worst ways I know how.”


	45. Chapter 45

Koen arrives shortly before eleven in the morning; making the thirty six hour pilgrimage in the same clunky, rusted pick up he’s been driving for twenty years. It’s beat up and weathered just like its owner; rough and battered on the surface, but full of piss and vinegar below. He’s big and he’s broad and he’s brash; a steely, gritty determination that matches the scruff on his face.

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he grumbles as he climbs out of the old truck; Sadie the cattle dog enthusiastically jumping out after him. He doesn’t hesitate wrapping Tyler in a warm right hug; a brotherly embrace that comes with fighter battles- for country and self- together. And there’s a smirk on his face when he holds the much taller, muscular man out at arms length and directs a playful slap to the back of his head. “You get uglier every time I see you.”

“Almost due, yeah?” Tyler taps the back of his hand against Koen’s stomach. “Hope it doesn’t look like its old man. Doctor might slap its face instead of its ass.”

“I oughta slap YOUR face. What with the amount fo shit that comes out of it. Well...well...well..” he gives Esme a long, slow whistle and a playful as wink as she steps out onto the front porch and then heads down the driveway. “I think I see my future third ex wife.”

“I’m ready when you are. But you’d have to fight this one.” She lays a hand on the small of Tyler’s back, rubbing softly. “And I don’t think that’s the hill you want to die on.”

Koen eyes his old friend from head to toe, nodding slowly. “I could take him. He’s not that tough. All show and no go. Never underestimate us old guys; we’re full of tricks. He’s a chink in that armour somewhere. Cutie like you is worth showing hands for. Even if I do get my ass handed to me.”

He warmly embraces her, then presses a kiss to both cheeks.

“Why are you still hanging around with this guy?” He asks, nodding in Tyler’s direction and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You a glutton for punishment or something?”

“He’s surprisingly entertaining to live with.”

“What’s his secret? For landing the likes of you AND keeping you?”

“You want the family friendly answer or the x rated one?”

Koen grins. “So THAT’S it. He knows what he’s doing in the bedroom.”

Tyler smirks. “Bedroom, kitchen, living room, bathroom…”

“I’m starting to understand how you all managed to have kids. Mating like rabbits all the time. He treating you good outside of those things? ‘Cause if he ain’t, you just let me know and I’ll set his ass straight. Could have used you a couple of years before you showed up. You could have straightened him out before he became such a mess.”

“Well he’s doing pretty good now,” she gives Tyler a soft smile. “I think he’s as straightened out as he’s going to get. We have to keep some of that edge. What do you think sucked me in in the first place?”

“Thought maybe it was his pretty blue eyes and his boyish charm. Definitely wasn’t his face. I don’t know how you look at that mug every day. How do you wake up beside that every morning? You like torturing yourself?”

“Why do you think I sleep with my back towards him? So when I wake up, I’m NOT looking at him.”

“Atta girl,” Koen chuckles. That’s the Esme I remember. The one with the smart ass comments and the nice…”

Tyler smirks. “Don’t even finish that sentence, mate. Don’t make it weird.”

“Smile,” Koen finishes. “I was going to say smile.”

“Sure you were,” Tyler scoffs.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” Esme says. “I’ve got Ovi alone with a teething toddler and a cranky newborn. I can’t torture him too much.” She tousles Koen’s thinning hair and then stands on her tiptoes as Tyler leans down to press a kiss to her lips. 

The two men stand side by side as she turns and heads for the house, Sadie already following at her heels. Watching the way her hips gently sway and the denim of her shorts hug every curve.

Digging his elbow into Tyler’s side, Koen grins up at him. “She does have a nice ass.”

***

They retreat to the garage. Tyler pulling two beers from the bar fridge and twisting the caps off both; hanging one to Koen and keeping the other for himself. 

As soon as the bottle touches his lips, he notices the frown that takes over his old friend’s face; the concern in Koen’s eyes and the deep furrows in his brow. He knows what’s going through the other man’s head. That he’s remembering the old days; when the promise of only having one or two beers turned into downing a dozen or more. When his existence was spent in a drunken fog and there’d be times when days would pass before he’d make any contact with the outside world and Koen would show up at the shack to make sure he was still alive. He’s seen all of Tyler’s inebriated moods; the friendly, talkative and overly affectionate drunk, the one that’s volatile and vicious and wouldn’t know when to stop hitting a guy during a fight, the emotional and weepy one that would cry as he talked about his dead son.

“What the ever loving fuck,” Koen drawls. “I thought you were clean.”

“I was.”

“The wife know about this?”

“No. I keep a secret stash of booze in the garage and drink myself into a stupor and she never notices. What do you think, mate? It’s not something you can hide.”

“I think you’re a fucking drongo is what I think.”

“We talked about it,” Tyler says. “Agreed that there’s worse I could be doing. I’ve been slipping. Badly. Especially with everything that’s been going on. All the fucking stress with this Mumbai bullshit and all the threats and all the worry and…”

“You weak bastard.”

Had anyone else said that. Tyler would have had them laid out, unconscious, with one punch. But they’ve known each other a long time; they’d shed buckets of blood, sweat, and tears together. He knows Koen’s heart; he has nothing but the best of intentions in mind.

“You don’t know what it’s been like,” Tyler says, and takes a long swig of his beer. “Everything that’s been going on.”

“No. I don’t. But I do know that you’ve got a beautiful wife that loves you -for whatever goddamn reason- and five kids. And they don’t need this bullshit. They don’t deserve this. They deserve a sober you. Not a drunk you. What the hell is wrong with you? You get a life...a regular life...an amazing life...and you go and fuck it up?”

“I’m not fucking anything up. I’ve got it under control.”

“You used to say that all the time. And it was never under control. I don’t understand you. You find someone...someone amazing...that thinks the sun shines out of your ass. You make a life for yourself. You become a daddy again. And you go back to this? Back to how you were before you got so lucky? You sure your brain didn’t get more damaged than those doctors say?

“I’m not going back to anything,” Tyler insists. “I’m not going to be like I was before. I’m not gonna be that bad. Not even close to it. I’m not going to spend every day drinking. I promised her that. That I’d keep things from getting that far.”

“And you really think you’ll be able to control that? That you’ll be able to stop after a couple? Or a few. I know you.”

“You knew the old me. I’m not that guy anymore.”

“I know once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.”

Tyler smirks and takes a seat on the edge of the work bench.

“You still won’t admit it, will you. You don’t even like hearing the word, never mind saying it. I love you, mate. You know I do. But that’s what you are. You ARE an alcoholic. You won’t be able to control this. Not when it really takes over.”

“I’m not going to let it take over. I know what I’m doing. I know what I can and can’t control. So get off my ass about it.”

“Do you want to end up like him? Your old man?”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “I’m nothing like him.”

“You saw what booze did to him. How it changed him. Is that what you want? You want it to change you like that? Because it will. And I’d sit back and let it happen if it was just you. If you were still a single guy wallowing in your own self pity. I’d let you spend the rest of your life as a pathetic drunk. But you’ve got a wife and kids. What about them? How are they going to feel when the booze takes over and you become a different person? When you start losing your shit on them and raising your hand to your wife?”

“I would never...ever...raise my hand to her.” Tyler snarls. “I would never touch her like that.”

“It’ll control you. You won’t be able to stop it. When the booze lies to you and tells you something she said was meant to piss you off or that she looked at you the wrong way. It’ll be the booze that takes over and hits her. You won’t be able to control that.”

“Like hell I won’t.”

“You won’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I will kill myself the day I ever think about hurting her. I’m not going to beat my wife. Or my kids. I’d die for them. In a heartbeat. I’m not going to hurt them.”

“You better hope not that never happens,” Koen warns. “Because I will come down here and beat you within an inch of your life, then I’ll stop and let you catch your breath, and then I’ll beat you all over again. You hear me? I will bring you to the brink of death and then I’ll take your wife and your kids, and get them away from you. I’ll make sure they’re safe. Somewhere you can’t find them. Understand me?”

Tyler nods, beer clutched tightly in his hand, eyes staring down the neck of the bottle.

“I love you, mate. But I won’t tolerate that shit. You fuck up your life, I’ll fuck YOU up. That’s not a threat. That’s a promise. Now…” Koen takes a swallow of his beer. “...where’s all these days? I wanna see all the toys.”

Tyler finishes his drink and slides off the edge of the work bench, leaving the empty behind and grabbing himself another beer. Ignoring Koen’s heavy sigh and shake of the head; twisting off the cap and taking a sip before fishing a set of keys out of the side pocket of his cargo shorts. Five gun lockers -as full as they can get- sit along one wall, along with four army style trunks secured with padlocks. And he opens them all; stepping back as Koen surveys the contents.

“Jesus...Christ…” his friend breathes, and emits a long whistle. “...if it ain’t the promised land. Most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time. Other than your wife’s ass.”

Tyler smirks.

“Where the hell did you get all this? HOW’D you get all this?”

“I gotta guy. There’s more where that came from.”

“How much that cost you?”

“I called in a debt I was owed. Everything above and beyond this will cost me.”

Koen’s eyes narrow. “How much?”

Tyler shrugs.”I’m not worried about that.”

“You swimming in money or something? Living large and in charge? Not even that five million you told me about would last that long buying shit like this.”

Less than ten minutes after Tyler had called Anil to let him know that they were accepting his proposal, the contract was sent to them in a secure file through email. An hour later, seven million dollars was transferred into his bank account; the original offered amount, plus an extra five hundred grand for ‘being so prompt'.

“Esme and I struck a deal with someone,” he explains. “Brother of the guy that helped get her and Ovi across the bridge.”

“That Saju fella?”

“His younger brother owns his own security business. He had a hard time finding mercs to do the real dirty jobs and he offered us a good deal to partner with him. Huge money if we’d supply him with mercs when he needs them.”

“What kind of money we talking about?”

“Each guy would get seventy five grand per job. Plus all travel and medical paid.”

“Shit…”

“And a bonus if things get done in good time and up to his specifications.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m going to like working for you,” Koen chuckles.

“He’s going with us. To Mumbai. He’s going to be the one to take care of Mahajan. He has a score to settle. And he deserves a chance to finish things. For his brother.”

Koen nods in understanding. “Do you know who these pricks are yet?”

“I do. I know their names, their faces, where they live. I know who they hang out with, where they hang out.”

“How many we talking about?”

“Fifteen. Twenty.”

Koen’s eyes widen. 

“I figure if we can get a handful of ‘em in one place, we can take a bunch out at one go.”

“How the hell are we gonna do that?”

Tyler shrugs. “We’ll figure something out when we get there. I figure with the kid with us, we’ll be able to get all the information we need. Might be able to find out where a group of them are getting together.”

“The kid’s coming with us? Why?”

“Do YOU speak Hindi? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“They don’t speak English over there?”

“How welcoming do you think they’re going to be? You really think they’re going to be willing to help a bunch of white guys? We need the kid. He can get us closer to these guys than we could ever get on our own. Use his father’s name. His influence.”

“We’re gonna get him killed is what we’re gonna do.”

“He’s tough,” Tyler says. “Resilient. I’m not too worried about him. You and your slow ass have me more worried.”

Koen scowls. “Fuck you, mate. This is some crazy shit you’ve got us going into.”

“About as crazy as it gets,” Tyler agrees.

“You sure this is the right way to go about things? Going there and hunting these fellas down?”

“Better than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“They come here and kill my wife and my kids.”

“Won’t be able to do that if we’re here to stop ‘em,” Koen reasons.

“I don’t want them getting that close. I’d rather hunt them on their own territory. Take them by surprise. Not the other way around.”

“I can understand that, but…”

“Who's the one that’s done this before? Who’s been in the job already?”

“Don’t pull rank with me. You’re still a kid in my old eyes.”

“I’m also your boss,” Tyler reminds him. “I sign your checks. And if you don’t want to do this, I can find someone else. The job isn’t for everyone.”

Koen frowns. “You think I can’t handle it?”

“You think you can?”

“I know I can. I’m just asking if you think this is the right way to do things. If going there is really the best idea.”

“I don’t want them anywhere near my family,” Tyler says, as he finishes his beer and then locks up the gun cabinets and trunks and once pockets the keys. “I don’t want them even coming remotely close to them. So if you’re having second thoughts and want to back out…”

“I ain’t backing out of shit. I’m in this ‘til the end. You think I’m going to let your sorry ass go there alone? Someone’s gotta keep you from fucking up and shooting yourself in the foot or something.”

A soft, repetitive knock on the door that leads from the garage into the house captures their attention. And Esme -with a now quiet and content Addie on her arm- gives an apologetic smile when both men glance over her in direction.

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But are you guys hungry? Ovi’s making lunch. Enough to feed an army. And as Tyler can tell you, that kid can cook.”

“Should be a chef,” Tyler addresses his old friend. “He’s THAT good.”

“I could eat,” Koen nods. “Now get in here, cutie. I wanna see the new little rugrat. I hear you finally one that doesn’t look like this jackass.”

“She’s definitely all her mom,” Tyler confirms, and he drapes his arm around his wife’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of her head when she stands beside him. 

It’s only been thirty hours since their early morning blow out, but things are better; neither of them have raised their voices or gotten irritable with one another. There’s been no harsh words or hurt feelings; both surprisingly calm and relaxed. The sealed deal with Anil and the finality of heading to Mumbai has brought a sense of closure; both still worried and feeling the side effects of tremendous stress, but dealing with it together instead of taking it out on each other.

“Oh my goodness…” Koen gushes, a rare softness creeping into his voice and face as the baby is placed in his arms. “...you’re a wee one, ain’t ya? Barely weigh a thing! How does something as tiny as you come from something as big as your daddy? She does look like her mom,” he says, as he smiles at them. “Only one I don’t feel sorry for.”

Tyler smirks. “Are you calling my kids ugly?”

“No kid is ugly. You on the other hand? You fell out of the ugly tree and every damn branch on the way down. This little miss though…” he grins down at the baby. “...is everything that is perfect in this world. I remember holding your sister when she was born. And your daddy crying like a baby when he came out and said it was a girl.”

“He cried with each one.” Esme says. “But he was the worst with the twins.”

Tyler grins and playfully tugs at her ponytail. “Why do you have to rat me out like this?”

“I don’t blame him,” Koen says. “Two boys in shot. Two sons. Especially after...well you know...after Austin.”

A somber mood falls over them. Tyler had been extra emotional when the twins had been born. They’d held off on finding out the sexes beforehand; preferring to be completely surprised the second time around. Esme had been adamant they were both boys or a boy, girl combination; he’d been pretty sure he was destined to have more daughters. So when the doctor had announced that the first one was a boy, the tears had been immediate. Another son after losing Austin seemed unbelievably perfect; a chance to make up for all the wrong he’d committed the first time around. The arrival of the second boy...only four minutes later...had been overwhelming.

“Can’t wait to meet those two,” Koen breaks the silence. “And their little brother. If they’re anything like their dad…”

“They’re just like them.” Esme says. “Inside AND out. You’ll see when you meet them. They look just like him. Especially Tanner with the old haircut. And I warn you now, Millie is not the little baby you remember.”

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Tyler tells him.

“So she’s just like her old man, too,” Koen chides.

“Oh she is,” Esme laughs. “More like Tyler than the boys are. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s a little…”

“Extra,” Tyler finishes for her.

“Almost six going on sixteen,” Esme says. “I’ll go and help Ovi finish up. You guys can keep on her? She’s got quite the temper, Koen. She’s tiny but feisty.”

“Like I said,” Tyler squeezes the back of her neck. “Just like her mom.”

“Yeah, but she has YOUR temper. Already. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. If you guys can make sure things are locked up out here? The last thing I need is Declan getting out here and getting into things he shouldn’t be into. I don’t need an eighteen month old mercenary, thank you very much.”

“I’ll make sure,” Tyler promises, and gives her a chaste kiss before she heads for the door.

“You lucky bastard,” Koen remarks, when she disappears back into the house. “I hope you realize you got going for you. That you’re not going to just piss it all away. Any man would want what you have. Someone who loves you THAT much. Who’s totally devoted and loyal no matter how many times you fuck up.”

Tyler smirks. “You’re really handing out the lecture today.”

“Someone needs to. You’re teetering on a very thin ledge here. That woman is only going take your shit for so long. No matter how much she loves you. You’re going to mess up so bad one day that she’s going to say ‘fuck it’ and leave your ass and take the kids with her. Don’t think she can’t do it without you. Because she can. And she will if she has to.”

“I know she will.”

“Break her heart, I break your face. And your legs,” Koen says. “And that’s a promise.”

****

The bar is packed with a wide selection of clientele. Conceited college jocks in backwards baseball caps, baggy jeans and t-shirts that are that show off underwhelming physiques and girls in mini dresses and skin tight pants and way too much makes who that are far too invested in guys that can’t grow proper facial hair and never do full reps at the gym. There’s flush faced businessmen with their ties and suit jackets missing and their dress shirts wrinkled and the top three buttons undone. Blue collared workers that smell like sweat and are covered in dust and grime; still wearing their bright orange safety vests, their steel toed boots covered in the powder from drying cement and asphalt. And then there’s the tourists. The ones that mean well with the I LOVE OZ t-shirts and mini version of the country’s flag tucked in their back pockets or sticking out of their purses; who love the accent ‘so much’ that they resort to trying to copy it.

Tyler doesn’t even know why he’s here. It’s the LAST place he wants to be; the crowd, the noise, that pulsating of blaring music and too many conversations taking place at once. It’s all too much; too much laughter, too much energy, too many people and squeezing and pressing against you. He’s always preferred quieter settings; too much noise and activity bothering his PTSD and triggering his anxiety. It has become especially bad since returning from New Zealand; choosing to stick with his own home, his own property, his own people. It’s his ‘safe place’; where he’s most comfortable and secure and he’s in full control of everything that happens around him. 

This is chaos. Too many bodies. Too many voices. The lights too bright. So he takes four anti anxiety tablets that he’d stashed in one of the front pockets of his jeans before leaving the house; washing them down with the remains of a glass of scotch before heading to the bar.

He’s comfortably drunk. Not slurring his speech or stumbling and swaying as he walks, yet too too far gone to be considered tipsy. At the stage where he can still form coherent thoughts and speech, yet the tips of his gingers and his toes are starting to tingle; colors seeming dull and faded. He’s unsure of just how much he’s consumed. Losing track after helping polish off four pitchers of beer, downing five scotches, and taking part in five rounds of shots; a potent mixture of Jack Daniels and tequila. He makes his way through the crowd. Noticing the way the college girls -used to less mediocre bodies of their boyfriends and schoolmates- check him out. The jocks either glare at him or stare in wide eyed amazement; both impressed and intrigued -and maybe even a little jealous- at the size of his arms and shoulders and the width of his back. 

He orders a scotch for himself and two pitchers of beer and another round of shots for the table. Sipping his drink as he watches Koen and Nathan -who’d arrived in the early afternoon- goad Ovi into guzzling half a pitcher of beer in one go. It’s an initiation of sorts. The kid finally ‘playing with the big boys'. He can handle his liquor; figuratively AND literally. Barely spilling a drop on himself as he downs the brew in record time. And Tyler is on his second sip of own drink when he feels someone sidle up beside him. A little TOO close. Glancing down at the slender, smooth forearm that’s intentionally resting against his on top of the bar. A smirk curving his lips at the intrusion; looking down into a pair of sparkling green eyes staring up at him.

“I’m Beth,” she says.

“I’m married,” he counters.

She smiles. “You don’t recognize me, do you.”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Miss Spence. From…”

He nods in recognition. “Millie’s teacher.”

Her smile brightens and she nods. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I’ve never been here. You come here a lot? It’s Wednesday.”

“You think teachers don’t drink?”

“Not on school nights, I guess I don’t.”

“We all need to unwind somehow,” she reasons. “Those your friends?” She nods in the direction of the table, where Nathan is setting up the shots and Koen is looking over at the bar, watching Tyler with a frown on his face.

“Yeah,” he says. “Work buddies. The young one...with the dark skin...that’s my son.”

“Your son?” She looks confused. “I thought…”

“He’s adopted. Sort of. It’s a long story.”

“That’s a heck of a scar,” she comments, fingertips boldly tracing the jagged, thick line that runs horizontally across his right bicep, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt.

The wound had been brutal and deep; slicing almost straight to the bone when he’d caught his arm on a protruding piece of rebar when he and Ovi had jumped from the moving truck in Dhaka. Esme had stitched it up at Gaspar’s house; using a needle and dental floss. It had been nothing short of a miracle that the damn thing had never gotten infected.

“Work injury.” Tyler says, and moves his arm away.

“The ones on your face too?”

“They’re everywhere. The scars.”

“All from work?”

He nods. “Mostly.”

“Hell of a job you must have had.”

He takes a swig of scotch. “It had its moments.”

“So what ARE doing here?” Beth inquires. “This doesn’t seem to be your kind of place. I was surprised when you walked in.”

Tyler frowns. “I’ve been here for two hours.”

“It took me that long to get up the courage to talk to you.”

Fuck. This is the LAST thing he wants. Or needs. “I’m not interested.”

She sips her beer. “In what?”

“Whatever the hell you came over to me for.”

“Just to talk. You’re not in the mood to talk?”

“I'm not much of a talker.”

“The strong, silent type,” she smiles, the bottle presses against her lips. “Mysterious, almost.”

“Nothing mysterious about me. I’m just a regular guy.”

“What DO you do for a living?”

“I own my own business.”

“What kind of business.”

The lie rolls easily off his tongue. “Private security.”

“Intriguing. So why ARE you here? Trouble in paradise?”

Tyler scowls. “What?”

“Beautiful wife, beautiful kids. Nothing is as perfect as it seems. Not if you’re here drinking in the middle of the week and not at home with your family.”

“I’m just here with some buddies that came to town to visit.”

“That’s it?”

He nods. “That’s it.”

“You’re not here for something more?” She trails her fingernails down his forearm, and he yanks it away. 

“I’m married.”

“Happily?”

“Very.”

“She doesn’t need to know. I can keep a secret.”

“You’re my daughter’s teacher. Isn’t that against some sort of rule? No coming on to any of your students’ parents?”

“It’s not advised. But it DOES happen.”

“Well it’s not going to happen with me. I have a wife. That I love. That I wish I was home with and fucking right now. Because believe me, nothing you have, nothing any other woman has, no other pussy in the world, can hold a candle to hers. I’m not interested. I’ll never be interested. So if you don’t mind, fuck off.”

Beth blinks.

“I’m serious. Go. Go find an available dick to hop on. Mine’s taken.”

Blushing furiously, she gives a dramatic huff and swallows the remains of her drink. Angrily shoving him before stomping off. 

“Fuck me…” Tyler mutters, then finishes his scotch and orders another.

****

He passes out during the cab ride home; vehemently protesting when Koen and Ovi both shake him awake. Bitching at him to ‘get his shit together’ while Nathan chuckles about how much trouble he’s going to catch the second he walks through the front door. 

Everything is altered; colors less vibrant, sounds muted or coming in as if he’s listening to them underwater. Conversations make no sense; words out of order, some sounding foreign. It’s been a while since he’s been this drunk. Where his limbs seem impossibly heavy and he can’t feel his feet and his lips are numb. He couldn’t even remember his own address when the cabbie asked for it, or how long he’d managed to stay awake before he’d passed out with his head on Ovi’s shoulder. 

But the suffering is gone; mentally AND physically. There’s no stress, no worry. No wondering if Millie is going to wake up the morning of her sixth birthday and suddenly have cancer. Or if Mahajan’s people will break in the middle of the night and slaughter his entire family. There’s no pain in his shoulder or knee. Everything is numb and comfortable and he’s never felt so relaxed.

It takes him three tries to get his key in the lock on the front entrance before he drops them for a fourth and final time, resorting to pounding on the door and ringing the bell. Within minutes she’s answering; clad in one of his hoodies over a night shirt that skims the tops of her knees. Hair messy from sleep, a mixture of annoyance and fury in her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Esme hisses.

“Did you change the locks?

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Yes, Tyler. I called a locksmith while you were out and changed every lock on the house. Just because. Do you know what time it is?”

“I know it's late.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“My key didn’t work.”

“Oh my God,” she mutters, and grabs a hold of the front of his shirt and yanks him inside. Pausing before closing the door as Ovi and Koen linger in the driveway, watching intently; the former giving a sheepish ‘sorry’ before they disappear around the side of the house. “What the hell did you do?” she asks, and then closes the door and sets both the deadbolt and the alarm. 

Tyler leans against the wall in order to keep upright, attempting to toe off his boots. Unsuccessfully. “I’m a little drunk.

“A little?” she scoffs, then drops to one knee in front of him and tends to undoing and losing the laces on his boots.

“I’m a lot drunk, actually. And while you’re down there,” he smirks; and lays a hand on the back of her head.

“That’s the LAST thing you’re getting tonight,” Esme huffs, as she slaps his hand away and stands. “Why would you wear those boots to a bar?”

“I gotta break them in,” he reasons. “I don’t want them fucking up my feet on the job. Where’s the kids?”

“It’s one in the morning. Where do you think they are? They’re in bed. Three of them have school tomorrow. And I swear to God, if you woke them up pounding on the door and ringing the bell….”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he takes her face in his hands and places a sloppy kiss on her lips. “I love you. I’m a little drunk.”

“You said that.”

“I’m A LOT drunk.”

“You said THAT too.”

He tucks her hair behind her ears and lays his hands on her shoulders. “I know you’re mad…”

“Annoyed,” she corrects. “Not mad.”

“But I love you. So much. And I think we should go upstairs and fuck.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs. “I don’t think so. I don’t do drunk sloppy sex and you know that.”

“It won’t be drunk and sloppy. Well it’ll be drunk. But not sloppy. It’s never sloppy. Ever.”

“Oh I can think of a couple times where it has been,” she says, and he follows her through the foyer and down the hall that leads to the living room and kitchen. “Remember the time you and Kyle went out together when he got engaged to that stripper?”

“The red head with the big…”

She glares over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“When you came home, that sex was very drunk and very sloppy and I told you I’d never do that again. It’s not much fun when only one of you is drunk and your two hundred pound husband gets to come and you don’t and he even has the nerve to pass out on top of you.”

“I was really loaded that night.”

“You’re really loaded right now.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But I DO love you.”

“I don’t doubt that. Still doesn’t mean I’m having sex with you.”

“Can you at least give me head? Because I’m pretty horny and I really want you and if you won’t let me fuck you…”

“Tyler, you’re more liable to get a punch in the face than a blow job right about now.”

“Did I mention I love you?”

“Yes. You did. About three times. And I love you too. But I’m not putting out and I’m not giving you head. Not now.”

“Maybe later?”

Esme sighs in exasperation, and when she puts her hands on his chest and gently pushes him backwards, his calves connect with the couch and he drops down heavily. “Just sit down.”

The room is spinning. He feels nauseous, yet strangely energized. And he leans his head back and closes his eyes; hearing the echoing of loud music and too many conversations in his head.

“Drink this.”

He opens his eyes, looking at the clear bottle in his hands. “Is it vodka?”

“It’s water. Drink it.”

He does as he’s told; fumbling with the cap and then downing half the bottle in one gulp. 

“If you puke, I’m making you clean it up,” Esme declares.

“I’m not going to puke,” he says, then turns sideways on the couch and stretches his legs out; back against the arm rest. “I don’t puke.”

“Oh really. So that wasn’t you puking alongside the twins the last time they had a stomach bug? I’m pretty sure you were throwing up more than they were. I can handle kid puke, not grown man puke. So if you’re going to be sick…”

“I’m fine,” Tyler insists, and then grabs a hold of her forearm and yanks her down on top of him; settling her between his legs, both arms wrapping tightly against her slender body as she leans back against him.

“Jesus Christ, you stink,” she complains. “How much did you drink?”

“A lot.”

“Did you bathe in it too? And what did you drink?”

“I dunno. A little of everything. A LOT of everything. Beer, scotch, those shots that have JD and tequila in them.”

“For fuck sakes, Tyler,” she sighs heavily. “You couldn’t just stick to one type? You had to mix? On the first day you drink after six months?”

“I know. I’m a dumb ass.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you want to.”

“I wanted to say it, I’d say. I don’t hold back and you know it.”

“I’m so fucking weak,” he laments. “I can’t believe I caved in. What kind of loser am I? What kind of fucking failure?”

She pushes her fingers through his, lacing them together; resting their joined hands on her stomach. “You’re not any of those things. You’re my strong, brave, amazing husband who just happens to have a weakness like all human beings tend to.”

“This is twice now. Twice I thought I beat it and looked at what happened.”

“And you’ll beat it again. When you’re ready. I’d rather you drink than other things.”

“I’m not going to be like before. I’m not going to be that bad. I promise. I can control it this time. I know I can. I just slipped really bad tonight and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get this bad.”

“I know,” she raises one of his hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to each scarred and permanently damaged knuckle, then to the side of his wrist. “I figured the first time would be bad. I was expecting it. But I can’t handle it if you do this all the time. I just can’t.”

“I don’t want to do this all the time. I don’t want to be that guy again. I don’t want to lose you,” his voice cracks with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you or my kids. I can’t do this without you. This life. I don’t WANT to do it without you.”

“Just calm down, okay?” She tightens her hold on his hands, then places them on her collarbone. “Don’t get upset.”

It’s the norm. The weepiness, the emotions, saying things he’d never likely say while sober. Not to the extent he says them, anyway. After all, a drunk mind often speaks sober thoughts.

“I’m not upset,” Tyler argues.

“You are. I can hear it in your voice. Just settle down. You don’t need to get worked up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Everything shitty I’ve done in the last seven years. For taking you to Gaspar’s house and not killing him when he offered me that deal. I should have killed him. When he said that about you. About handing you to Asif. I should have…”

“Stop,” Esme gently orders, and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Just stop.”

“I should have fucking killed him right then. And I’m sorry for sending you with Ovi and Saju and I’m sorry for the bridge and I’m sorry you had to stick your fingers in my neck to save me and…”

“Tyler, stop. None of that was your fault. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

“And I’m sorry for the times I’ve fucked up. All the times I’ve yelled at you and been a shitty husband and a shitty father. All the birthdays and anniversaries I missed and all the promises I broke and every time I said something to hurt you. And I’m sorry for those six months. I didn’t want to be away from you for that long and it fucking killed me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get my shit together sooner.”

“Settle down,” she implores. “I don’t like when you get like this. Because you start to panic and I won’t be able to calm you down and...”

“And I’m sorry about Nik. About the times she called me and messaged me and showed up where I was staying. But I never cheated on you. Not with her. Not with anyone. Ever. And I never will.”

“I know you didn’t. And I know you won’t.”

“I love you too much to ever hurt you. I need you to know that. How much I love you.”

“I do know.” Esme assures him, then releases her grip on his hand and turns around to face him, kneeling between his thighs. “Tyler…” she gives a small pout and lays one hand against the side of his face and uses the fingers of the other to brush away the tears that trickle down his cheeks and the sides of his nose. “...don’t...don’t cry. You don’t have to cry. Everything’s fine.”

“I’m scared,” he says, as his hands settle on her hips. 

“Of what?”

“That I’m not going to come home. That this will be the one time I can’t get back. If it was just me, I wouldn’t care; I wouldn’t care if I died there or not. But I don't want it to end there. Not when I’m so far away from you. I don’t want to die there and be stuck there.”

“That won’t happen. Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re strong and you’re brave and you’re resilient and you’ll do anything you have to to get home. I have never doubted that about you. Ever. I’ve always known you’d do whatever you had to to come back.”

“But if I don’t…”

“Tyler..”

“Let me say this. Please. Just let me say this.”

“Okay.”

“If I don’t come back, just know that I loved you. With everything I am and everything I have.”

“I already know all that,” she fights back her own tears and rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose. “I know all of that.”

“I don’t want you to be alone. Maybe for a little while. And then I want you to meet someone that loves you and loves the kids and wants to take care of all of you. Someone that you love and…”

“There isn’t going to be anyone after you,” she says. “I don’t need anyone else.”

He sniffles. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good. ‘Cause I lied. I don’t really want you being with anyone else. I’d have to haunt him and make him miserable. Make him impotent or something.”

She gives a small laugh.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to. You’re going to Mumbai and you’re going to get shit done and then you’re coming home.”

“What if you’re not here when I get back?”

“Where would I? I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if you’re dead?” The tears come again. “What if someone gets to you? What if…”

“Tyler…” she pulls back to look at him, holding his face in both hands. “...stop. Don’t let your head go there. Nothing is going to happen to me. You’re going to have all kinds of people here keeping an eye on things. I’m going to be fine.”

“Maybe you should come with me.”

“I have kids to look after. I can’t leave them. Especially not Addie.”

“They can come too. We can find a place to stay. I’m sure Anil knows someone that has a place we can rent. Or buy.”

“We are not buying a house in Mumbai.”

“Why not? We’re kinda rich now.”

“That’s not where I want a vacation home. And I can’t take the kids to India.”

“Why not?”

“The three oldest have school, for one.”

He shrugs. “They can miss some school. We won’t be gone THAT long.”

“Baby, I am NOT going to Mumbai.”

“Why?”

“What’s the point of being there when you’ll be gone kicking ass all the time?”

“You’ll be close by,” Tyler reasons. “I’d feel better if you were. If we were in the same country as me at least. Not thousands of miles away.”

She sighs.

“We can find a place,” he insists. “I can talk to Anil. He can find a safe place and he can have people there to watch you and the kids. I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you were there.”

“You usually don’t make this much sense when you’re drunk.”

“Just think about it. Please? Because I would feel a lot better about things and I'd be more focused because I wouldn’t be spending my whole time worrying about what’s going on here.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Are you okay now? Did you get it all out?”

He nods. “I think so.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m glad you love me.”

She grins. “You are, are you?”

“No one else could put up with my shit. I don’t even know why you do.”

“Because I DO love you.”

“I don’t know how you can love me when I don’t even love myself.”

“Well, I just do. And I love you enough for both of us. You gonna be okay?”

Tyler nods.

“Do you want to sleep upstairs or…?”

“I don’t think I can get up there without passing out.”

“Okay” she places a kiss on his lips and then climbs off the couch. “Lie down . I’ll get some blankets and pillows.”

“For both of us?”

“For both of us,” she confirms. “God you’re a pain in my ass.”

“It’s a nice ass though. A really nice ass.”

“You can compliment it all you want. I’m still not having sex with you. Or giving you head. So don’t even ask.”

She heads for the laundry room, reappearing several minutes later with an extra comforter and two pillows. And a plastic bucket she sits by the side of the couch. 

“In case you puke,” she explains. “In the bucket. Not on me.”

“I won’t need to puke.” 

“Mmm...hmmm. Lift your head,” she orders, and then tucks one of the pillows under him. “You’re like having another child,” she playfully complains. “This is like when you get the man flu and I have to baby you.”

“Maybe I like when you baby me. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“I won’t ruin your reputation as a bad ass, I promise. Can you move over even a little bit? You’re not the smallest guy.”

He frowns. “Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m calling you big. As in tall. As in insanely muscular. As in you're built like a brick wall and I won’t be able to move you once you pass out. So move over a bit. Promise me you won’t throw up on me?”

“I promise I will throw up in the bucket. Not on you.”

“We’re getting a divorce if you puke on me.”

“Bucket. Not you Got it.”

She squeezes in between him and the back of the couch, drawing the blanket over both of the; settling on her side, her head on his shoulder and one of his arms around her.

She grimaces. “God, you reek. You smell like you drank the whole bar.”

“Sorry. But If I have to put up with the smell of baby puke, you can put up with this.”

“You smell way worse than any baby barf I’ve ever smelled.”

“You’ve gone nose blind to it, then. Because it’s rank.”

“Like the sewer in Dhaka?”

Tyler chuckles. “Nothing’s THAT rank. Why’d you even have to mention that?”

“You’re going to throw up, aren’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Maybe…”

“Oh God…”

“Nope. I’m okay. It’s gone. I’m fine.”

She sighs. “Remind me again why I married you?

“Because I dick you down as good as I do.”

“Yep,” she grins against his shoulder. “That’s exactly it. By the way, you’re getting up with the kids in the morning.”

“Like hell I am.”

“You want to wake me up at one am, you can pay the price. That’s the price.”

“Tell you what. I’ll get up with them IF you give me head.”

“Goodnight, Tyler,” she says, and rolls over, back facing him.

“Seriously?”

“Go to sleep. You have an early morning.”

“You’re evil,” he declares.

“You married me,” she reminds him.

“Yeah. I did. I’m glad you said yes.”

She smiles at him over her shoulder. “I’m glad you asked. Now will you shut up and go to sleep?”

“You’re seriously not going to help me out?”

“Nope. I’m not. Close your eyes and go to sleep. Maybe in the morning I’ll be nice to you.”

“I won’t want it in the morning.”

“You ALWAYS want it.”

“Good point,” he says, and moves onto his side, placing a hand on her hip and a kiss to the back of her head. Nestling his face in the back of her neck, he inhales deeply and closes his eyes. 

He’s asleep in minutes.


	46. Chapter 46

Everything hurts.

Back. Shoulder. Knee. Head. Especially the head. A ferocious, pounding that has settled above and behind his eyes and in his temples. Even the sliver of sunlight that manages its way past his heavy lids tortures him; an incessant burn that seems to travel right through every optic nerve and straight into his brain. And he winces and groans in agony and yanks the comforter up over his head, attempting to will away the throbbing and the slight nausea and lightheadedness.

He can’t remember the last time he had a hangover; body and mind so accustomed to a lifestyle of excessive drinking that they’d stopped being affected. The worst that would happen would be passing out and staying that way for ten to twelve hours. Sometimes even longer depending on many Oxy he’d taken. There were days -more often than not- where’d he wake up disappointed; upset that no matter how much he’d had to drink and how many pills he popped, he was still alive; stuck in a shitty, miserable existence filled with enormous guilt and regret and unlimited self loathing. 

But this...this suffering takes him back to his high school days; drinking too much at house parties or at get togethers on the beach and then passing out whenever he was standing or sitting at the time. The mornings after were always brutal; the headaches and dizziness, the way you tongue felt thick and dry and it seemed as if your mouth was stuffed with cotton. And the nausea. That queasy, unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach and the burn of bile in your throat.

He regrets it. Every shot, every pitcher of beer he helped drain, every sip of scotch. And he wishes he’d never even agreed to ever go to that bar; option for a quiet night at home instead of all the noise and all those people. All that booze. It’s a blur; the crowd, too many conversations happening at once, the deafening music, the lights way too bright. And Millie’s teacher. Propositioning him at the bar. Making comments about his scars and asking about his job and assuming his marriage was in trouble and he was willing to ‘hook up’. THAT’S going to make trips to the school awkward. Parent/teacher interview night should be a lot more interesting and entertaining now, having to sit across from someone who is supposed to be educating your kid but weeks or months ago wanted your dick and you had to shoot them down.

It’s like a cocoon under the heavy, down filled blanket; a warm, confined, safe place. Quiet and relaxing. Secure. As if nothing exists outside of it. Just him and that soft body pressed tightly against his. The smell of her hair as he nestles his face against the back of her neck; the heat that radiates off her enough to soothe some of his aches and pains. He needs this time. The minutes. The hours. The moments were it’s just them. Where the world around them is silent and still and life seems as if it’s at a standstill. In less than two weeks, these moments will cease to exist. At least temporarily. He’ll be in Mumbai; in the stifling heat and the oppressive humidity, making his way through the list of names Anil had given him. Checking them off one by one if he has to. Leaving nothing but a trail of blood and broken bodies in his wake.

He pushes those thoughts away. It’s the last thing he wants to be thinking about. Mumbai. Mahajan and his people. How long he’ll actually be gone for. If he’ll even make it back. All he wants to do is concentrate on the next ten days. On their get away to The Kimberley; four days and three nights alone with his wife. No kids to worry about -although they will from afar- and no interruptions and time to actually talk and pay attention to what is being said. And Millie’s birthday party. Newly six with all her classmates and her new puppy; completely oblivious to the treats being made and the stress her parents are under. He’s no longer anxious about it; the nightmares of Austin taking her from them have stopped and the illogical fear of her waking up deathly ill is starting to subside. It’s still there; the inkling of worry that something could go wrong. But with each that passes where she’s healthy and happy and strong, that concern lessens.

Right now he focuses on what’s right in front of him. That soft, supple body pressed against him. Her back to his front and one of his legs draped over hers and the tip of his nose against the side of her neck. HE blindly searches for one of her hands; lacing his fingers with hers and then placing a series of feathery kisses along her jaw. And she stirs against him when he reaches the corner of her mouth; eyes never opening as she turns her face into his. The resulting kiss is long and slow. Lazy. Bare legs sliding against each other; her fingers tightening around his as she lays their joined hands against her stomach.

Esme pulls back to look at him; eyes half open, brow slightly furrowed. “Why do you smell so good all of a sudden? And why do I taste mint?”

“I got up in the middle of the night and took a shower. Brushed my teeth.”

“I told you that you smelled awful.You know it’s bad when you can’t stand your own stench.”

“I actually did it because I couldn’t sleep.”

“That drunk and you couldn’t sleep? That’s a first. It used to knock you out for at least eight hours.”

Tyler shrugs. “Slept for a couple hours, woke up, couldn’t go back.”

“Did the baby wake up?”

“She slept through.”

Frowning, she brings his hand up to check his watch. “It’s quarter after six. She’s been sleeping since eleven. That’s weird for her. Did you check on her?”

“Twice.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Okay, it was three times. I can’t help it. I worry. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the fifth. But she’s fine. Just not hungry. Doctor said to let her sleep if she doesn’t wake up to eat.”

“She’s tiny. VERY tiny. She needs to eat.”

“She’s tiny like her mom. She’s not going to be like the rest of them. She’s fine. Just let her sleep. The longer they all sleep the better.”

“I know why you’re saying that,” she says with a grin, and rolls over to face him. “You’re hopeful.”

“A little.”

“Just a little?” She pushes a hand through his hair, nails lightly digging into the back of his neck as she presses her lower body against his. “Feels like a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“I’m surprised you’re even coherent this morning. You were pretty trashed. Do you remember anything?”

“I remember you changed the lock on the door,” he teases.

“I did not change the lock. You just forgot how keys work.”

“And I know I didn’t get any.”

“And…”

“And I know I had a mental breakdown and cried like a little bitch.”

She scowls. “First off, you’re not a little bitch. Far from it. You wouldn’t have all those scars and had all those broken bones or concussions or all that time in the hospital if you were a little bitch. A little bitch is not capable of doing the things you can do. Second, you were emotional. So what? I like that side of you. The who isn’t afraid to cry. It’s very sexy. A man that shows emotion.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she presses a kiss to his lips. “ Beside, if you can’t be emotional in front of me, who can you be emotional in front of?”

“No one. There’s only you.”

“Exactly. So stop being so worried about it making you soft. Or weak. You are neither of those things. You never have been.”

“I don’t know. I distinctly remember you having to help me to the bathroom when I used to come home on the weekends from the rehab place.”

“You’d just gotten over being shot in the throat. Among other things. No one is going to fault you for needing some help. You used to do things like that for me. All the times I’ve been pregnant. You'd help me into the bathtub, you’d tie my shoes for me, you’d put up with my three am cravings.”

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” he says. “I’m the guy.”

“This is a two way street, buddy. We do things for each other. So I don’t want to hear any of your toxic masculinity bullshit. That’s your father talking.”

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You could NEVER be like him. You’d never let yourself get like that. I’D never let you get like that. You’re not your father, Tyler. You’re so far from it. You’re a good husband and you’re a great feather. Our kids love you. They don’t fear you.”

“Do you?”

“What? Fear you? No. And I never have. Why would you even ask that?”

“What about in Dhaka? When I grabbed your throat. Were you scared then?”

“Nope. You were angry. You reacted. Yes, you reacted BADLY. But I could see it in your eyes. You weren’t going to hurt me. It was the last thing you wanted to do. I wasn’t scared of you then, and I’m not scared of you now.”

“You’d tell me though, right? If I ever did? Scare you?”

“I wouldn’t just tell you. I’d probably throat punch you.”

He chuckles at that.

“You may intimate and scare the people you’re supposed to intimate and scare, but I’ve never felt that way with you. I know you in ways those people don’t. And I know you’re not capable of hurting me or the kid. You’re a good man. You’re a GREAT man. And I wish you’d realize that. I wish you’d see yourself the way I see you.”

He tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “How do you see me?”

“I see you as strong. Brave. Fiercely loyal and protective. I see you as the sexiest, most beautiful man in the world. I see you as an amazing father. As my best friend. My biggest supporter. My lover. My husband. I see you as all those things.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Well you’re a big man,” she reasons, and then smiles when he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. “You’re a big man with an even bigger heart. You just sometimes have to do bad things. To bad people.”

“It makes sense you know, that I’d end up with you. Someone that lived that life. That knows what it’s like. No one else would be able to deal with it. Accept it. Knowing that I’ve killed people. That I’m going to KEEP killing people.”

“It’s not all you do,” she reminds him. “The number of people you’ve helped is a lot higher than the people you’ve killed. But you’re right. Someone who’s never lived that life wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t be able to deal with it.”

“Guess I’m pretty lucky you showed up at my place that day.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty lucky too. After everything that I went through with Mark; all the things he did to me. All the damage he caused. You came along and you fixed all of that. You fixed ME. You came into my life when I’d given up on finding someone that would love me. I’d given up on MYSELF. He made me feel like nothing and you make me feel like something. Every time you look at me or touch me or kiss me or we make love. You make me feel beautiful and amazing and worthy. All the things I’d never felt before. All the things I never thought I could be.”

“You ARE all those things.”

“Because you’re the one that brought them out. Who makes me feel all of that. You talk about how lucky you are, but I’m just as lucky. If not more. You talk about how I saved you, but you never think about how you saved me.

He doesn’t think about it. He’s never even considered it outside of the decisions he’d made to get her safely across the Sultana Kamal Bridge. And even now he questions those decisions from time to time; if there’d been a way he could have avoided sending her with Ovi and Saju, or anything he could have done differently to prevent the near catastrophic ending. But he’s never thought beyond those things. Never actually considering just how he was helping her heal and get over the trauma that Mark had caused. Just doing it. Just doing whatever he had to and hoping for the best.

“I don’t think you understand how loved you actually are,” she says “By me. By your children. We’d be pretty lost and miserable without you.”

Swallowing around the lump of emotion that sits square in his throat, he combs his fingers through her hair; pushing it off her forehead and placing a soft kiss against the smooth skin. It’s those little kisses that she often enjoys the most. The ones to the brow or the cheeks or temple or against ears or along her jaw. Even those repetitive pecks to the lips; the ones where you pull back and smile at each other between each one. Those small intimate moments...brief snippets...where they connect outside of simply raising a family together.

“We’ll go to Mumbai,” she tells him, as she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose; fingers racing the tattoo on his left shoulder. “IF you can get us a safe place to stay. IF you talk to Anil and he can help you find something. With people keeping an eye on things and armed guards or whatever else or whoever else needs to be there to keep Mahajan away.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Tyler promises. “I don’t think there’s much he CAN’T do.”

“You’ll have to tell him about the puppy. We can’t give Millie a puppy for her birthday and then expect her to be separated from him. That’s cruel.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll get everything worked out.”

“Because it would make me feel a lot better too if you weren’t so far away. Even being in the same county would be better. Not thousands of miles between us. I need that for my own piece of mind. If anything happens to you or any of the kids, it’s better if neither of us are too far away.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you or the kids,” he confidently assures her.

“I notice you didn’t put yourself in there.”

He gives a small, tight lipped smile.

“You’re going to be okay too,” she says, as her fingers move to the ink on his neck and the scar -one of many- left behind from Dhaka. “Like you said, you’ll be able to focus better if we’re close and you’re constantly worrying about what’s going on here. And you need to be focused. You need to be able to put all your attention into things and I know you’ll be able to if the kids and I are there.”

He lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her softly. “Thank you. I know it’s not easy for you to do this. Especially with the kids.”

“It’s just better this way. If we’re not far apart. What you said last night...if something did happen and you did die over there…” her voice cracks and tears well in her eyes. “...I mean, I know it’s not going to happen and I hate even thinking about it and I feel horrible for saying it and…”

“Calm down,” he gently implores. “Just breathe. Everything’s fine.”

“...and I know you’re going to be okay. But hypothetically speaking, if something did happen and you didn’t make it, I don’t want you being stuck there. If I’m already there, I can find you and bring you home. I don’t want you being left there. I’d want to bring you back where I know you’d be finally able to rest.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he pushes a hand through her hand and tightly grips the back of her head as he kisses her forehead. “Nothing like that’s going to happen.”

“I know. But it makes me feel better to know if something does, you won’t be left there.”

“I meant what I said you know. About you finding someone else. I will haunt him.”

She laughs at that, and he gently brushes her tears away with his fingertips. “There wouldn’t be anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. You’re it for me. Wherever it’s next month of fifty years down the road.

“I’m hoping for the fifty years.”

“Me too. You’re still going to love me when I’m wrinkled and gray and can barely hear anymore?”

“I’m going to love you always. No matter what.”

Smiling, she presses a kiss to his lips and then tucks her head snuggly under his chin; hands sliding around to the nape of his neck and up onto the back of his head.

“Everything’s going to work out.” he promises, as he drops a kiss on the top of her head and wraps both arms around her.

And he holds her, as tightly as she’ll allow, until the sounds of life...THEIR life...begin stirring in the rooms above.

****

“So do we tell the kids to call you Uncle Koen or Grandpa Koen?” Esme asks as they sit in the surf. Koen in a lawn chair with his feet in the water and her on the ground beside him’ Addie between her legs and resting back against her stomach.

He frowns down at her. “Grandpa? How old do you think I am?”

“According to Tyler, you were already wet behind the ears when the Pony Express was still delivering the man.”

“That little fucker,” Koen scoffs. “He’s starting to forget that he’s no spring chicken himself. Gonna hit the big four-one soon. You think he’d be starting to slow down, not getting ready to speed things back up again.”

“He’s not the type that can still for too long. He always has to be doing something.”

“Well you think having little ones to chase around and care for would give him ‘something’. He’s got five of them. How he’s not worn out from all of them rugrats, I certainly don’t understand.”

“It’s a different pace,” she reasons. “”He was used to something much more strenuous. Faster. Unpredictable.”

“Dangerous.” Koen offers.

She nods, then tightens the strap on Addie’s sunhat. “Unfortunately.”

“I don’t know if he told you or not, but when he came out to my place a couple weeks back, I gave him quite the talking to. About getting back into things. About becoming a merc again and starting his own business. Basically told him he’s a fucking dumb ass. Pardon my language around little ears.”

“Oh, she’s heard way worse already, trust me. Tyler has no filter. Millie already knows all the worst words and she doesn’t hesitate when it comes to using them. She’s got a month on her. And it’s all daddy’s fault.”

“He’s a good one, ain’t he,” Koen remarks, as he takes a pull from the bottle of beer in his hand. “A daddy.”

“He is. He’s an amazing dad.” There’s a smile on her face as she says it, and she scoops up a handful of water and sprinkles it along Addie’s legs. “He’s gentle and he’s loving but he doesn’t coddle them. Treats them like intelligent little beings instead of babying them all the time. He’s so good with them. And they adore him. They worship the ground he walks on, actually. Especially Millie. There’s no one on earth she loves like she loves her daddy. And God help anyone that tries to take him away from her. She will pitch a fit like no other. She will throw down with someone if they mess with daddy; no doubt in my mind.”

Koen grins. “So she’s basically her mom that way.”

“Yeah,” Esme laughs. “I’d throat punch someone if they hurt him or messed with him. I’ve seen him go through too much. No one is going to fuck with him on my watch. But he is. A good dad. He’s an incredible dad, honestly. I swear he has the patience of a saint. You know, it’s weird. When I first found out about Millie, I was so scared to tell him. We barely knew each other and he was in the hospital and in constant pain and trying to heal and going through all kinds of therapies and I thought the last he needed was something like that. And he was freaked out, but he wasn’t THAT freaked out, know what I mean?”

Koen nods.

“I think I was losing it more than he was,” she continues. “And I told him that I didn’t expect anything from him; if he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby, I’d leave and never contact him again. That things were so screwed up and I didn’t want to force him to be a dad. That was the last thing I wanted. Not when he already had so much on his plate.”

“Not surprised he didn’t go for that,” Koen remarks. “Knowing he had a kid on the way and having already lost one. He wasn’t letting the chance to to be a daddy again get away from him. Gave him something to live for. Made all the pain and suffering during the aftermath of that Dhaka bullshit worth it. He had something to look forward to; something to keep going. And I’m not talking about just the baby and you know it.”

She smiles.

“He was pretty crazy about you even then, even if it did scare him. He told me as much. That you scared him.”

Esme glances over her shoulder. “He said that about me?”

Koen nods. “He was pretty into it. Into you. Freaked him out; feeling things like that about someone he just met. Last girl who made him feel things like that...well that didn’t end so well, did it.”

“No. It didn’t. I only met her that one time. When his dad brought her to the hospital. What a disaster THAT was.”

“Could have throttled ‘em both,” Koen scowls. “Neither had a right to be there. That old man is better off dead. What he did to that boy when he was growing up? What he did to his mother? He should be in hell where he belongs. And that Sarah?” he scoffs. “What a train wreck THAT was. Don’t think there wasn’t around she wasn’t fucking around on him. I used to tell him to just let her go. Kick her ass out. But he wouldn’t do it. And then she got knocked up and that was that. Used to question if the kid was even his. Looked nothing alike and the kid didn’t look anything like his mother, either. But…” he swigs his beer. “...he stuck around. Felt he was doing the right thing, I suppose.”

“Like he did with me?”

“He didn’t just stick around for the baby and you know it. Naw, he was pretty deep into it already. He didn’t say it, but I could see it. The way his eyes would light up the second you walked in the room. Even his voice would change when he talked about you. I hadn’t heard that or seen that in him in a hell of a long time. That’s when I knew you were a keeper. If you could make a man like THAT...a man with all that darkness and all those issues...actually smile and feel like life’s worth living? Well I’m glad you stuck around.”

She grins and nudges his leg with her elbow. “Koen, you big softie.”

“I know he ain’t the easiest of bastards to live with. You deserve some kind of award for putting up with the likes of him. I’m not married to him and even I want to kill him sometimes.”

“It seems like forever ago,” she says. “So much has happened since then. Since Dhaka. My family didn’t think we’d even make it past a year. It’s been seven since we met. We’ve been married for six and a half. We went from one kid to five. That’s surreal.”

“Fucking insane is what it is. You’re both right out of your damn minds. Repopulating the world all on your own.”

“He wants an even half dozen. I’m not too sure about that. I’m not quite sold on the idea yet.”

“He does realise he can have the fun of making babies not but not actually make any, yeah?”

Esme laughs at that. “He’s got in his head that he needs to leave a legacy behind. Some kind of proof that he did something good with his life. He doesn’t realize that he’s many good things. And he doesn’t need to prove that to anyone. Not even to himself.”

“Stubborn bastard that one,” Koen says, and then glances down the beach to where Ovi and Tyler are immersed in conversation while Declan stands at the edge of the water, tossing tennis balls into the ocean for Sadie and Mac to fetch. “He’s pretty fond of that kid, ain’t he.”

Esme uses her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looks over at what’s caught his attention. “Ovi’s pretty fond of him, too. He always has been. Even in Dhaka. Especially near the end. He looks up to Tyler. Respects him. Wants to emulate him. We’ve both spent five and a half years trying to get him out of that, but…” she shrugs and turns her attention back to Addie. “...it didn’t work. He adores Tyler. He’s the dad Ovi should have had. The one I wish he COULD have had. He even calls him dad. Not to his face, but he refers to him as his dad. When he was still in school and would talk about his dad, people would be so confused when Tyler would show up to things. He was NOT what they were expecting. But Ovi’s ours. We look at him like he is. We love him like he is.”

Koen nods slowly, considering her words. “Think we can trust him?”

“Who? Ovi? Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“He’s been in contact with his old man, hasn’t he?”

“Not by choice. He’s still terrified of him. That man is a monster. He’s ruined so many lives. Even his own son’s. I hate thinking about what would have happened to Ovi if we’d left him in Mumbai.”

“Kid seems pretty torn up every time someone mentions doing away with the old man.”

“It’s not easy to hear. That people want to kill your father. That they ARE going to kill him. Even if the old man is Satan himself, he’s still his father.”

“What about his mother? Does he have one?”

“She died when he was three. I don’t know how. He doesn’t like to talk about it and I don’t pressure him. I don’t even know if Tyler knows. I have my suspicions about what happened to her, but that’s all they are. Suspicions.”

“You think the old man had something to do with it?”

“It’s possible. I mean, he’s a horrible person. Look what he did to Saju; who’d been nothing but loyal to him. It wouldn’t surprise me if his wife didn’t tow the line and he got rid of her.”

“Think he’d tell him? That we’re coming?”

“I doubt it. Ovi wants this nightmare over just as much as any of us do. Why?” she glances up at him. “You don’t trust him?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea that the kid comes along is all.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea that ANY of you are going,” she says. “But I hardly have a say in it. I can’t stop Tyler from doing this. No one can. He’s doing it to protect me. And our kids. You don’t fuck with his family. He’s fiercely protective; sometimes to a fault. But I trust when he says he’s going to end this. He won’t stop until every one of those men on the list are dead. And to be honest, I don’t want him to.”

“So you’re okay with this? This whole idea? Mumbai?”

“No. But if Tyler says this is what has to be done, it needs to be done. I trust him. He’s the one person I DO trust. Especially when it comes to my kids.”

“What about getting back into the job? Being a merc okay? You’re okay with that?”

“I told him if that’s what he needed to do...if he needs that escape so badly and it would keep him sane and happy...that he should go back. And having the business means he won’t have to be so hard core into it. He won’t have to be away from home so much. Because I need him here. So do the kids. He’ll be in the job, but not right in it. And I’m good with that.”

Koen frowns. “He should be home all the damn time. With you. With his kids. None of this job shit. He needs to let that go. That part of him. He needs to walk away from it and never look back.”

“But he can’t,” Esme says. “It won’t let him rest. Not yet. And I need it to. I need it to let him go. And it’s not going to. I don’t know if it ever will.”

“And if it doesn’t? Let him go?”

“We make it work, I guess. We have to somehow make it work and cope with it. I know it doesn’t make much sense; that I’m doing all of this. But I love him. So much it physically hurts sometimes. And if it’s the only thing that’s going to keep him sane and functioning, I have to give him that.”

“You’re a lot more understanding than I would be. I’d be kicking his ass out. Making stupid decisions like that.”

“You know as well as I do that when Tyler’s mind is set on something, you can’t change it. Things will be better this time. Different. Now that he’s the boss, he can stay behind the scenes and let everyone else get their hands dirty. And this will be good for him; it’ll give him something to do. A sense of purpose. He doesn’t feel like he has that right now.”

“That’s bullshit,” Koen snarls. “He’s got all kinds of purpose. He’s got you, the kids…”

“It doesn’t make sense, I know. But that’s how his brain is working. It makes sense to Tyler and that’s what matters. And I’m worried about him and I need you to keep an eye on him. Because he’s been struggling, Koen. Badly. With the PTSD and the depression and the anxiety.”

“And the drinking.”

She sighs. “And the drinking. Six months. He was sober for half a year. He was doing so good. And then all this started and it went to hell and now look where we are. Look how drunk he was last night. He was a mess. And I’m pissed off that none of you tried to stop him. You just let him do it. Get that out of control. When you saw him getting that bad, why didn’t any of you step in?”

“I have no excuse for that,” Koen admits. ”No reasons. I should have. Stepped in and got him to stop when things got out of hand. But he’s not an easy man to control and…”

“If I can stop him, any of you can. I’m five foot nothing. He’s six three. He has a hundred pounds on me, if not more. If I can talk sense into him, there’s no reason why you couldn’t have done it. And then you bring him home like THAT? So I can deal with him. So I can be the one that takes care of a grown ass man AND five kids.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I’m…”

“And now he’s going to Mumbai. On a job. And I’m supposed to trust him with you guys. I’m supposed to trust that you’ll have his back and that you won’t let him do anything stupid. And I’m not just talking about drinking. I’m talking about the job. If guys don’t have his back, he might as well be going there alone.”

“We have his back,” Koen assures her. “One hundred percent,”

“I hope so. I really do. Because I need him to come home, Koen. Alive. I need my husband and my kids need their father. And I need you guys to watch over him. To make sure he comes back. I need to know that he’s going alone out there. That he has people he can trust.”

“He’s got us,” Koen says. “We’ve got him. We’ll make sure he comes home. He’s smart. He’s tough. Resilient. Nothing’s going to stop him from getting the job done and hauling ass back here. He knows he’s got a good thing. May not always say it or show it, but he knows. And if he ever forgets, you just call me and I’ll come here and beat his ass into the middle of next week.”

“Whose ass are you beating now?” Tyler asks, as he and Ovi join them, the latter wading out into the water with Declan on his hip.

“Yours,” Koen directs a kick at his friend’s back side before he can take a seat in the sand. “If you’ve been hurting for a good ass kicking for a long time, I reckon. Surprise this little thing hasn’t brought you to your knees yet.”

“Oh she has. She’s brought me to them many times. Just not the way you’re thinking.”

Esme snorts and digs an elbow into her husband’s side.

“He knows we have sex,” Tyler reasons. “It’s not a secret. We have five kids.”

“I was telling her that if you didn’t treat her right, I’m going to come here and beat your ass,” Koen says. “And then I’m gonna steal her away and let her see what a real man can do for her.”

Tyler smirks. “Where you gonna find a real man?”

“You cheeky fucker. How do you put up with him, kid? How do you tolerate his shit?”

“He puts up with me,” Esme says. “I’m not the easiest person to live with. But he’s still here. For some reason.”

“Trust me when I say it’s NOT her cooking,” Tyler says, and then leans into her with his shoulder; giving her a playful wink and a kiss on the cheek before taking Addie from her. Laying the baby along both forearms, her head in his palms as he carefully lowers her into the water. “And you have to kill me old man. To get her away from me. That really the hill you want to die on?”

“I think the two are made for each other,” Koen grumbles.

“Yeah…” Tyler grins at her. “I think we are too.”

****

Dinner with Anil and Allison had gone well. Both extremely pleased -and grateful- with the deal that had been quickly reached. The former had offered up his own home in Mumbai for Esme and the kids (and the new puppy, once he’d heard what the name was); an extremely well guarded and safe estate within its own locked and secure five acre compound. He immediately understood Tyler’s need to have his family close and Esme’s fear of being too far away if the worst case scenario came to fruition. The thought of a body not being returned home would be far more distressing than the actual death itself. Every job holds the possibility of not coming back; that is something you come to expect and learn to live with. But the thought of not having your loved one come back to you at all, is a bitter and horrible pill to try and swallow. It’s happened with many mercs; gruesome deaths and the inability of anyone to go and recover the body. Another reason why many die single; no spouse, girlfriend, or significant other willing to deal with such a high price.

Everything will be handled by Anil and his people; twenty four house staff and heavily armed guards and an elaborate security system. Bedrooms for all the children and everything needed properly to care for a baby; toys and bikes and whatever the kids need to keep them occupied and happy, even an offer of tutors to come in and work on school tasks. No expense being spared. For Tyler it makes the stress and the worry easier to bear; knowing that not only will he not be separated from his family by thousands of miles, every effort will be put into keeping them safe. They’ll arrive two days after him, and he’ll be staying at a different location; bouncing from hotel to hotel with Nathan, Ovi, Koen, and Anil. It’s far safer to keep moving then to settle down in one spot; staying at the house would only bring unnecessary attention to Esme and the kids. When deemed safe by the security, visits -including overnight- would be allowed. It isn’t the best arrangement, but a necessary one.

Tyler stands in the kitchen doorway and watches as she moves around the room; finishing the kids’ school lunches, mixing bottles of formula (to give Koen and Ovi at least a couple days head start) and dropping three frozen waffles into the toaster. She’s still clad in the dress she’d work to dinner. Classic black and off the shoulder; fitting like a second skin and reaching just below the knee. He’d been rendered speechless when she’d first walked out of the bedroom hours earlier; not remembering the last time he’d seen her like THAT. She’s always beautiful in his eyes. Whether it’s fresh out of the shower or when she first wakes up in the morning and her eyes are still puffy and blurry from sleep and her hair is a mess. Or even she’s been up for two days caring for a colicky baby. But that...with her hair up and make up and that dress showing off every curve that carrying five children has graced her with...is a beauty that surpasses all.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, as she glances up while buttering the waffles. “Kids asleep?”

“All five.”

“I don’t know how Ovi does it. He’s got that magic touch or something. Every time he watches them, they’re all asleep when we get home. Not one of them is awake. How? How does he do it? We put them to bed and we spend two hours fetching drinks of water and herding them back to their rooms.”

“Maybe he drugs them. Maybe THAT’S his secret. It’s not magic. He puts tranqs in that water.”

“Maybe he can give me some, then. I could use a couple right now. Or half a dozen. At least dinner went well. Anil’s pretty reasonable, don’t you think?” She takes a bite out of one of the waffles. “There wasn’t one thing he didn’t agree with. About me and the kids coming to Mumbai.”

“He’s a businessman. He knows what people want to hear and he knows how to give them what they want. And he’s got all the money in the world apparently.”

“How does a guy like him get so rich? What did he do before what he does now?”

“He was special forces. Same as Saju.”

“And in only seven years he’s become THAT rich?”

“Have you seen what he charges people for his services. He charges twice as much...if not more...than he pays his employees. You think it hurt him to give us what he did? That’s probably pocket change to him. Even AFTER he pays us and our mercs, it doesn’t start to scratch the surface.”

“Just seems weird. For it to happen THAT quick.”

“Look how quick we got money. Not just from him. Look what happened in Ireland. Five million for ten minutes of work.”

“You and I remember Ireland very differently.”

“It wasn’t THAT bad.” He grabs two bottles of water from the fridge, a jar of vegemite from the cupboard, and a knife from the drainboard by the sink, then joins her at the island. 

“Says the guy who got hit in the head with a metal shovel. You and your fetish for garden tools.” She frowns when he opens the jar of vegemite and reaches for one of the waffles. “Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Please don’t eat that stuff in front of me. You know I hate that stuff.”

“It’s good shit.”

“It is not good shit. Oh my God…” she dramatically gags when he spreads vegemite on the waffle. “...Tyler James...ughhh...you’re gross.”

“You used to eat peanut butter sandwiches with onions AND hot peppers on it and you call me gross?”

“I was pregnant with Declan,” Esme argues. “I had weird ass cravings with him. None of my cravings with the other ones were that bad.”

“I don’t know. I remember you putting strawberry jelly on pizza when you were having the twins. Remember the ice cream when you were having Millie? Rocky road and I’d have to melt peanut butter and put that AND chocolate sauce on it.”

“Oh my god that was so good. You even liked it.”

“I swear I put on twenty five sympathy pounds.”

“You needed to. You lost a lot of weight after Dhaka. And now look at you. All thick and muscley and a whole week's worth of snacks. With your massive forearms and big thighs and your cute butt that sticks out.”

Tyler grins. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe. Is it working? Do you like it? If we were in a bar and I started chatting you up, would you let me pick you up?”

“I would definitely nail you in the bathroom.”

“That’s it? What if I complimented your big forearms and hands and called your eyes pretty?”

“I would have let you take me home. For sure.”

“Would you have called me the next day?”

“Yup. I know how good your head game is.”

“So THAT’S why you stick around. You don’t want the long hunt funding someone who does it just right.”

“That’s one of the reasons.”

“What are the other ones?”

“I love you. You’ve given me five beautiful children. And a reason to live.”

She smiles at that, and he leans in to kiss her. “Ewww,” she grimaces. “Vegemite.”

“Try a little bit,” he implores.

“I’ve tried it. I hate it.”

“Just a bit. You might not like it now.”

“I’m never going to like it. Don’t!” she pushes his hand away when he holds the waffle near her mouth. “Get it away from me.”

“It’s not THAT bad.”

“I will puke on you,” she warns. “And not even apologize.”

“Here.” He grabs a hold of the back of her head with one hand and presses the food to her lips with the other. 

“You fucker!” She playfully shoves him away, then vigorously wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh god. I can taste it. I’m never going to get rid of that taste.”

“You’ve had worse things in your mouth.”

“You’re gross,” she grumbles, and grabs one of the bottles of water. “You’re gross and a pig and I don’t know how I put up with you. That is so nasty. YOU’RE nasty. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are?” he grins. “Friends?”

“With benefits. Which you’re getting any of for a while doing shit like that.”

“Come here…” He reaches out and tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into him.

“I’m not kissing you when you’re eating that stuff. No way.”

“Not even if I tell you that you looked amazing tonight? Not even if I tell you that you were the most beautiful woman there and that I was so fucking proud that you were there with me? Will you kiss me then?”

“I suppose,” she dramatically sighs, and then lays her hand on the side of his face as he covers her lips with his in a long, slow, deep kiss. The tip of his tongue skimming along the rough of her mouth before he draws away. “By the way,” she says. “You clean up pretty good. You haven’t worn one of these…” she tugs on the tie -now worn loosely- around his neck. “...since we got married.”

“You like it?”

“I do. It’s handsome and it’s distinguished and very sexy. But I think I prefer the way you usually dress. More casual. Jeans and t-shirts with holes in them and baseball hats. And board shorts. We can’t forget your board shorts. All thirty pairs of them.”

“It’s really only twenty eight, but…”

She grins as he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “That’s the Tyler I know. And I can’t lie. The thought of seeing you in a tactical vest again...all sweaty and dirty...it kind of turns me on. Just a bit.”

“Just a bit, huh?”

“Just a tiny bit. Like a lot. Like a lot, lot.”

“I’ll have to make conjugal visits. Leave the vest on when I come over.”

“I might not be able to control myself. I might throw you down and have my way with you.”

“I wouldn’t put up a fight. Just saying.”

“I know why you can’t stay with us. I totally get it. But it still kind of sucks.”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “It does. But at least we’re in the same country. Hopefully in the same city. Or close by.”

“I’ll feel better knowing you’re THAT close. The kids won’t understand why they can’t see you.”

“We’ll figure something out to tell them. At least they’ll know that I’m not far away and I can get to them pretty quick if I have to.”

She nods.

“It’s all going to work out,” he promises, and lays a hand on the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple. “I have something for you.”

“You do, do you?”

“One of your surprises from the other day. From the kids. They asked me to give it to you so you could have it while we’re away.”

“From the kids?”

He nods.

“Something tells me it’s actually from you.”

“The other one is from me. You’ll get that one WHILE we’re away. It’s from the kids.” He opens the cupboard below the island and pulls out a small gift bag; adorned with unicorns and rainbows and glitter. “Millie picked that out by the way. In case you can’t tell.”

“That girl loves her glitter. And this from them? The kids?”

“Yup.”

“You’re lying, but okay…” She takes the bag from him and sets it on the counter. “What did you do?” she asks, as she pulls out a long, rectangular jewellery box. 

“Just a little something. From the kids.”

She stares at him pointedly. 

“Okay, it’s from me too. I’m the one who had to pay for it. But it was their idea.”

“You know I’m not good at surprises.”

“I know. You’re the worst person to buy stuff for. But it’s from your kids. They thought it up and they wanted you to have something pretty.”

She smiles. “They said that?”

He nods. “They said that mommy deserves pretty things and I agreed. So open it.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” she says, but snaps open the lid on the box. A piece of purple beach glass encased in an intricate cage of rose gold, and dangling from a chain of the same.

“Millie found it and wanted me to do something with it for you,” Tyler explains. “So I did.”

“It’s beautiful,” she turns her tear filled eyes towards him. “I love it. Thank you.”

He kisses her softly, face cradled in his palms. Her soft skin a striking contrast to the rough calluses on his palms and the tips of his fingers. 

“You’re too good to me,” she declares.

“Sometimes I think I’m not good enough,” he admits.

“You’ve always been way more than someone like me deserves.”

“You’re full of shit,” he says, then kisses her forehead and takes the necklace from the box; stepping behind her to clasp it around her neck. “You like it?”

“I love it. It’s perfect. Our kids are perfect. YOU’RE perfect.”

“That last part? I dunno about that.”

“You’re perfect for me,” she says. “And that’s all that matters.”


	47. Chapter 47

He takes the three oldest out to breakfast before school. It’s an attempt to kill two birds with one stone; spend time with them before heading to The Kimberley for four days, and to try and repair some hurt feelings. There’s still some lingering animosity being in those little bodies; moments when they remind of him the time he’d ‘taken mommy away and kept her away forever’ and how it felt like he was ‘gone for centuries’. It’s been almost seven months since he both took the McMann job and -regrettably- gotten his wife mixed up in it. He hadn’t realized at the time just how damaging that entire experience would be for the kids. Having both their parents away, and then sending them away with Ovi; staying in hotels and eating crappy food and travelling through four states before winding up at a stranger’s place in Oklahoma. 

It had been done to protect them; keep them away from home and hopefully keep McMann’s people from finding them. But he’s never actually told them THAT. The nightmares caused by the knowledge of him going after bad guys had been bad enough. Telling them that the bad guys had been after them would have meant years...if not decades...of intensive -and costly- therapy. Ovi had tried his best to keep things calm and relaxed; attempting to convince the kids that they were on an adventure and trying to fill their days with new sights and new experiences. He’d grown up a lot in those two weeks. Suddenly responsible for four lives on top of his own; innocent little being totally dependent on him to keep them safe. But he’d come through; he’d done exactly what he’d been told to and had come back with everyone happy (relatively), healthy, and unscathed.

But despite Tyler's best intentions and efforts, it had negatively affected them. Especially HIS prolonged absence. Things weren’t magically better the moment they were reunited in the driveway at their old place in Colorado. Even with all the hugs and kisses and the tears of relief and happiness, the kids had been angry. Furious that he’d had the nerve to not only take their mother away from them, but that he’d stayed away for an uncharacteristically long time. For two weeks they all refused to sleep in their own rooms; five bodies all shoved into the queen sized bed in the master. They’d alternate nights when it came to bad dreams; no evening passing without one waking up kicking and screaming and sometimes wetting the bed or throwing up. Night terrors that consisted of the ‘bad guys’ coming to the house and either kidnapping them or doing horrible things to their mom and dad in front of them. 

Once they moved to Australia things began to calm down. In the kids’ minds they were on the ‘other side of the world’, which put them far enough away from the guys that it may as well have been in another universe. And once the initial hostility of being uprooted from the old house and their old lives wore off, they had begun to thrive. Happier in their new home and in their new country.

He herds them into a smaller family restaurant in the downtown core; the fingers of one hand hooked in the back of both boys’ t-shirts, a hand on the back of Millie’s head. Always keeping them within a couple inches of him and his eyes constantly surveilling everything around them. Aware of every car that passes by or door that slams too loudly. Every pedestrian that walks past them on the sidewalk or lingers in store entrances or on front porches; defenses up when any time he feels as if someone is paying too much attention to them or comes a little too close. All of his senses running on high and his instincts sharp; his brain constantly processing everything and anything that happens around them. Functioning as both old Tyler and new Tyler; the two managing to coexist, at least temporarily. He’s confident in his skills and his abilities; he knows he’s able to keep them safe and that if a threat does arise, old Tyler will be one that reacts to it.

There’s an empty booth at the very back of the restaurant; enabling him to be able to sit facing the door. And the moment they arrive at it the bickering begins; who gets to sit next to the window, who gets to to order first when the waitress arrives, demands that no one orders the exact same thing because ‘that’s copying and copying is annoying’.

It’s surreal how drastically the direction of your life can change. Almost seven years ago he was standing in that squalid apartment in Dhaka surrounded by street thugs; mentally deciding in which order he was going to take them out in order to rescue Ovi. Now he’s breaking up fights over who gets to sit next to him and which napkin and cutlery belongs to who. You don’t know patience...true, unwavering patience...until you have kids. It doesn’t matter how much you pride yourself in how calm and collected you are while on the job; surrounded by tension and danger. Because nothing...and no one...tests your nerves and your sanity quite like a dramatic and ‘extra’ almost six year old and two five year olds who find it impossible to sit still.

After a brief game of ‘guess the number I’m thinking of between one and ten’, everyone is finally settled. The waitress coming to take their drink order and leaving them with menus and crayons for the kids to use to colour on the paper tablecloth. A victorious Tanner sitting between him and the window, and TJ and Millie across from them; as far away from each other as possible on the small bench. They’ve been at odds since leaving the house, bitter with one another after they’d fought over who would be the last one to kiss mommy goodbye. 

Tyler watches his daughter from across the table; amused -and slightly disheartened- by how much older she suddenly appears courtesy of the sullen, if not overly dramatic, expression. Her elbows resting on the table top and her chin planted in her upturned palms; eyes narrowed as she alternates between looking at the menu and glaring at her little brother as he has the nerve to entertain himself by creating a pyramid out of coffee creamers. ‘Little brother’ doesn’t adequately describe the kid; he’s only eleven months younger but has three inches and fifteen pounds on Millie. He’s tall and solid; all torso and long limbs.

He wants to tell his daughter to stop being so much like her mother, but nothing could be further from the truth. That expression, that steely glare, that attitude...it’s all him. And he sees the look of disgust she fixes on him when he removes his baseball hat and runs a hand through his hair. The top is starting to come in; he’ll take the clippers to the back and sides while he’s away. 

“What?” He asks, and places the hat and his sunglasses on the bench beside him. “What’s that look for?”

“You’re not really growing that stupid hair cut back again, are you?”

He smirks. “What if I am? What if your mom likes my hair that way? Tanner has the same hair cut. Doesn’t look stupid on him.”

“And it’s not stupid anyway,” TJ pipes up. “It’s a bitchin’ haircut. I wish I had it.”

Tyler reaches across the table to lay the tip of his index finger against the tip of Millie’s nose, pressing lightly. “Why so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” she mumbles, and pushes his hand away.

“You look grumpy.”

“That’s just her face,” Tanner says, not even looking up from the game he plays on his dad’s phone.

“Bruh,” TJ grins. “That was savage. But so good. And so true.”

“When did you become the mean brother?” Tyler asks, playfully digging his elbow into his son’s side.

“She called me a bitch baby last night,” he explains. “Because I didn’t want to go into the woods without Ovi with us. We’re not supposed to go in there without an adult. Without your mommy or Ovi. But she wouldn’t listen.”

“You went in there by yourself?” he addresses his daughter.

“I stopped her,” Tanner says. “That’s why she called me a bitch baby.”

“Even though he tackled her,” TJ chimes in. “In the middle of the road! It was awesome. He’s not very big, but he’s strong as hell. Like mommy. Small but strong. Mommy can pick up both of us. At the same time!”

“I’m not THAT small,” Tanner frowns. “I’m almost as big as you, Teej.”

“On what planet? I got tons on you. Like daddy does on mommy. Daddy’s like a giant and mommy’s just tiny. But she scares me more than daddy does. She yells louder. A LOT louder.”

“I’m not scared of mommy,” Tanner says. “She’s nice to me because I listen to what she says. You just ignore her and then she gets mad and we all pay for it. If you’d just listen the first time…”

“Daddy doesn’t even listen the first time.” TJ points out.

“And then he wonders why she yells at him,” Tanner retorts. “‘Cause he annoys her.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Tyler reminds him. “When do I annoy your mom’?”

“All the damn time,” TJ sighs. “And then she gets bitchy. Like Millie. But Millie is way bitchier.”

“I’m not bitchy,” Millie scowls. “You’re just a dick.”

“Okay...enough…” Tyler pleads, noticing both the amused and appalled looks nearby diners are giving them. “Can not act like a normal family for once? What did I say before we came in here? What did I say not to do?”

“No fighting,” Tanner says.

“No bad words,” his brother adds.

“And no annoying each other. Or me. And you’re doing both. So stop. Or I’ll leave you all here and make you walk to school.”

“Mommy would be so pissed,” TJ declares. “She’d be mad at you forever.”

“She’s always mad at me about something. And you…” he looks at Millie. “...you know not to go into the woods alone. You want a dingo to eat you?”

“I wish one would,” TJ says, and then holds his hands up in surrender when his father glares at him. “She said she saw some lady go in there and told her to stop because that’s part of our house but the lady didn’t listen.”

“What lady?”

Both boys shrug.

“I didn’t see sh…” TJ bites his tongue when Tyler stares at him pointedly. “...I didn’t see anything. Ovi went and checked but there was no one there. He couldn’t find anyone. He said it was probably just someone trying to get to the beach without going on our property.”

Tyler turns his attention to Millie. “What lady?”

“There was no lady,” TJ insists. “No one else saw a lady.”

“I’m talking to your sister, you mind? What lady?”

“I don’t know,” Millie shrugs. “But there WAS a lady. I saw her. Just like I saw that guy in the Jeep in front of Salena’s house.”

“That’s not even her name,” TJ says. “She was lying to us. The whole time. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Tyler frowns at him. “Excuse me?”

“A crappy thing to do. Sorry! It just came out. Maybe if you watched YOUR mouth around little ears….”

“How’d you like to walk to school?” he asks, then gives a polite smile and a nod of thanks to the waitress that refills his coffee and brings chocolate milk for the kids.

“You wouldn’t do it. Mommy would make you sleep on the couch forever.”

“I saw her daddy,” Millie insists, tone -and eyes- serious. “Remember how I saw that guy in the Jeep? Just like you did?”

He nods.

“Well I saw her too. Ovi asked me to get the mail so I did and that’s when I saw her and I tried to yell at her and stop her but she just ignored me. That’s why I tried to follow her and then Tanner stuck his nose in it.”

“Because we’re not allowed in the woods by ourselves,” Tanner informs her. “Daddy said when we moved there that we weren’t allowed because there’s bad things in there and we could end up hurt. Or dead. Do you want to end up dead? Because that’s how you end up dead.”

“That’s not how daddy almost ended up dead,” she points out.

“‘Cause the bad guys tried to kill daddy but didn’t,” TJ says. “Because Uncle Koen says daddy’s too stubborn to die. How do you know the lady wasn’t a bad person, Millie? She could have been a bad person and what would you have done? Nothing. She would have killed you.”

“Okay…” Tyler sighs heavily and runs a palm over his face. “...let’s NOT talk about bad guys and people dying. Or not dying. Just stop. What did the lady look like?”

“I still say there was no lady,” TJ grumbles.

“She kinda looks like Auntie Nik,” Millie says. “The same color of skin. Maybe a bit darker. But she had the same color hair and it was really long. She had it in a ponytail but it was still as long as mine.”

“You remember what she was wearing?”

“Of course I do. I notice things. She had on jeans and a black t-shirt and a green jacket like the one you have. And red shoes. Like purple ones that you bought mommy for Christmas.”

“Converse.”

“Yeah. Those ones! She had a pair of those on. She was kind of young. Maybe mommy’s age. Or a little younger.”

“Mommy’s old,” TJ declares. “She’s not young.”

“Don’t you EVER let her hear you say that,” Tyler warns. “And she’s not old. I’m older than she is.”

“Uncle Koen says you’re as old as Jesus Christ,” Tanner says. “The person. Not the swear word.”

Tyler smirks. “He did, did he?”

Tanner nods. “And mommy’s not old Teej.”

“She had all of us. She has to be.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s old because she had all of us. Just means her and daddy like to make babies. Doesn’t mean she’s old. Daddy’s old.”

“Excuse you,” Tyler nudges him with his elbow. “I’m only five years older than your mom is.”

“Your forty,” Millie points out. “That's super old. You have gray hair.”

“Because of you guys.”

“We don’t give your gray hair,” his daughter huffs.

“Mommy gave it to him,” TJ says. “‘Cause she’s a pain in daddy’s ass. That’s what he says all the time. That she’s a pain in his ass and drives him crazy. Right, daddy?”

“Don’t throw me under the bus.”

“You’re the one who said it! That mommy’s a pain in your ass. Uncle Koen said you’re lucky to have her. That she puts up with you. That tons of guys would want her and if you don’t, someone will take her off your hands and take her away.”

“He said that?”

“I don’t want some guy taking mommy away,” Tanner pouts. “I don’t want her leaving. She wouldn’t leave us, would she, daddy?”

“She would never...ever...leave you guys.”

“Then you better make sure no one steals her away,” Tanner says. “‘Cause I like the mom AND dad I have. I don’t want another mom or dad. That would suck, having another dad. He’d probably be some loser that doesn’t do cool stuff with us like you do.”

“He probably wouldn’t let me surf,” Millie adds, and sips her milk. “Or take us camping and fishing. And he’d probably be mean to us. And to mommy. You can’t let someone take her, daddy. I don’t want another dad. I want you.”

“No one is going to steal your mom away,” he assures them.

“The guy at the grocery store likes her.” TJ says. “The one that drives the Mustang and has the man bun. The one that called her a MILF. Whatever that means.”

Tyler frowns “Someone called her that?”

“The guy at the grocery store.” TJ sighs. “Mommy told him to F off. ‘Cause he got too handsy.”

“He what?”

“He touched her butt,” Millie says. “He said it was an accident, but I think he meant it. Mommy told him to F off and that she’d tell her husband and that you’d go there and break him in half. Could you really do that? Break him in half? ‘Cause I want to see it if you do it.”

“Of course he can break someone in half!” Tanner exclaims. “He killed somebody with a rake!”

TJ frowns. “That’s our last name.”

“It’s also a garden tool, dumb ass,” Millie huffs. “And it wasn’t one person, Tanner. It was two.”

“How do you guys even know that?” Tyler asks. “Because I know mommy wouldn’t tell you.”

“Ovi was telling Uncle Koen and Nathan,” Millie replies. “We just overheard it. Is it true? Did you kill two people with a rake?”

“Maybe…”

“I would have liked to have seen that,” TJ says. “Are you going to kill the douche at the grocery store? For touching mommy’s butt?”

“Maybe I should.”

“Daddy could totally kill that loser,” Millie enthuses. “I think you should do it. Break him in half. Can we watch?”

“No one is breaking anyone in half. Or killing anyone. What is wrong with you?”

“But you could, right?” she inquires. “Break him in half?”

“Of course he could!” TJ exclaims. “Look at the size of him! 0ne of his hands is bigger than your whole head. And you have a big ass head.”

“And look how big his arms are!” Tanner adds, and attempts to wrap both hands around one of his father’s biceps. “Look! They’re huge! I can’t even put my hands around one! He could totally break that guy in half!”

“I wish you would,” TJ says. “No one touches mommy like that. Only you’re allowed. We can touch her too, but that’s different because she’s our mom. She gave birth to us. Me and you at the same time, Tanner. However THAT worked.”

“Everyone knows how babies come out,” Tanner informs his brother. “The doctor opens the mommy’s tummy and pulls the baby out, right daddy?”

“Sometimes, I guess. That’s not how you guys got out, but…”

“How come TJ got to go first?” Tanner asks. “How come I didn’t get to go first?”

“I have no idea. It just worked out that way.”

“And how come I was by myself?” Millie inquires. “Why didn't I have a partner?”

“Because your brothers are twins. You’re not. You were alone.”

“You couldn’t have given me a twin? Like asked God or whoever or whatever?”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’m so confused,” she sighs. “I don’t even know HOW I got in mommy’s tummy, never mind how I got out. And I couldn’t even have company in there? That’s some bullshit.”

The waitress chuckles as she arrives with their food. “You’ve got your hands full here, dad.”

“You think? And this is them behaving.”

“It could be worse,” TJ says. “There’s two more of us at home. A baby brother and a baby sister. Like, a baby, baby. Like tiny. Really tiny.”

“She sounds like a kitten when she cries,” Tanner adds. “‘Cause she’s so small. And she looks like mommy. We look like daddy. Not Addie though.”

“How do babies get out of a mommy’s tummy?” Millie inquires. “Daddy won’t tell us.”

The older woman laughs, then pats Tyler on the shoulder. “I think I need to bring you an entire POT of coffee.”

****

“How come we don’t get to come?” Millie asks, as they walk hand in hand down the path at the back of the school, the boys already running off to play soccer with friends. “How come we have to stay here but you and mommy get to go away?”

“Because sometimes, moms and dads need to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you want to go and play with your friends?” Tyler nods in the direction of a group of girls gathered on the playground, calling to Millie and waving her over.

“No. I’d rather stay with you. I can see my friends whenever. And when you leaver, I won’t get to see you for a while.”

“I’m not going to be gone that long,” he reminds her, and tightens the elastic holding her braided ponytail together.

“Long enough. Remember when you said you wouldn’t go away again? When we were at our old house and we had to go away with Ovi and then you were home when we got back? Remember?”

“I remember.’

“You said you wouldn’t go away again. And now you’re going away. And you went away two weeks ago! To visit Uncle Koen.”

“I was gone for one night.”

“Still,” she sighs as she lets go of his hand, then crosses her arms over her chest and she looks up at him. “We still miss you. Even if it’s just one night. You said at our old place that you wouldn’t go away again.”

“This is different.”

“How?” 

Because that was for work. This is because your mom and I need some time alone together. Adults sometimes need that. And mommy and I? We desperately need that.”

“Why?”

“Look, when you’re married and have kids, you’ll understand. But right now, you’re only five…”

She glares up at him.

“..almost six, and you don’t need to know how or why or any of that. Just mommy and I need to be alone and that’s all that you need to know. And we’re going to go and be alone and we’ll be back on Tuesday.”

“Why so long?”

“It’s four days. That’s not long.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said. And I told you, this is different. Back then was about work, and this is about spending time with your mom. Adult time. No kids allowed.”

“You’re not going to bring me back a baby brother are you?”

He chuckles. “That’s not how it works, kiddo.”

“Are you and mommy going to MAKE me a baby brother? ‘Cause I’d rather a puppy. Or another sister. Please not a brother.”

“We can’t make you a brother OR a sister. We can’t make any more babies.”

“How come? If you made five of us already, how come you can’t make more?”

“Because we can’t.”

“You’re only allowed five? Is that a rule? You can’t have more than that? What if Addie had had a twin? That would have been six! And what if Austin was still here? Does that mean Addie wouldn’t be allowed to be here? Because she’d be number six.”

Tyler frowns. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m curious about the world. Mommy says I’m a free spirit. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.”

“I think your mom’s right.”

“So if Austin was alive, I’d have an older brother right?”

Tyler nods.

“Better than younger brothers. Older better are better. Would he like me?”

He runs a hand over her hair. “I think so. He’d be a lot older than you, though. He’d be sixteen.”

“Do I look like him?”

“Kind of. I guess. I dunno.”

“I bet I’d like him. I had a dream about him the other night.”

Tyler arches a brow. “You did?”

Millie nods. “We were surfing together. I didn’t even know who he was at first because I’ve never seen a picture of him. I only know what you told me about him. But said who he saw and that he was my older brother and that he was there watching me. I was kind of scared at first. When he said that. But then he smiled and he ruffled my hair like you do, and everything was okay. I knew he wasn’t there to scare me or hurt me.”

He merely nods, fighting back the tears that threaten and swallowing around the lump of emotion that sits in his throat. It isn’t so much grief anymore; he’s moved on with his life and became a dad again and can’t imagine NOT having Millie or her siblings in his life. It’s more her view of what happened. It’s innocent and it’s pure and she has no idea that if Austin were still here, she probably wouldn't exist.

“Mommy gets sad when I ask about him,” Millie continues. “Even though he wasn’t hers. I think she’s sad for you. She said that he was still here, I probably wouldn’t be. Or any of us kids. That you and her probably never would have met. Is that true?”

“It’s a possibility. I like to think I still would have met her and fell in love with her and married her. And had all you guys.”

“Do you ever wish that he was still here and we weren’t?”

“You know what…” Tyler scoops her up with one arm and settles her on his hip, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “I would never...EVER...wish that in a million years. Because I love your mommy and I love you and your brothers and sister. I can’t imagine NOT having any of you.”

“Do you miss him though?”

“Sometimes. I used to miss him all the time. And then you came along and I got to be a dad again and it made a lot easier to deal with. And if weren’t here? I’d be pretty sad. I’d miss you a lot.”

“How much?”

“A hell of a lot.”

“I’d miss you too. I always miss you. I wish you weren’t going away. AND taking mommy with you. Won’t you and mommy miss us?”

“Of course we will.”

“Won’t you be bored without us?”

“I think your mom and I will find things to keep us busy.”

“Like what?”

“Like things you don’t need to know about.”

“How come there’s so many things I don’t need to know about yet?”

“Because you’re just a kid. And mommy and I are adults who do adult things. And you don’t need to know what those are.”

“Please no babies,” she begs.

“I already told you…”

“I don’t get why you can’t have more.”

“Amelia…”

She giggles and pulls his baseball cap off, then puts it back on backwards. “Daddy…”

“I’m not telling you where babies come from or how they’re made. But nice try though.”

“I’m nothing if not persistent.”

He laughs. “I think there’s more of your mom in you than people realize. This lady that you saw…”

“I DID see her. She was real. I swear.”

“I believe yo. And when you get home from school. I want you to tell the neighbor about it. About what you saw and what she looked like, okay?”

“Don’t make me talk to her,” Millie pleads. “I don’t like her.”

“I know you don’t. But I still want you to tell her. Please? For me?”

“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll do it for you. But only for you, daddy.”

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss to her cheek. “Bell’s going to ring soon. You better go.”

“No. Not yet,” she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, clinging desperately to him when he attempts to put her down. “I don’t want you to go yet.”

“I’m only going to be gone for four days,” Tyler promises. “And no bad guys. Just me and mommy.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’ll come back Tuesday for sure?”

“For sure.”

“I’ll miss you, daddy,” she pulls back and kisses him as she holds his face in her hands. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“It’s only four days,” he reminds her.

“I don’t care if it’s one day. I’ll still miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He lays a hand on the back of her head and places his lips against her brow. 

“You’ll bring mommy back, yeah?”

“No. I’m going to leave her there with her new husband.”

Millie frowns. “That’s not nice. You’d miss mommy if she was gone.”

“I would,” he agrees. “I’d miss her more than you could ever possibly understand. Now go. Go and see your friends.” He sets her on the ground, then shrugs her backpack off his shoulder and hands it to her. “See you Tuesday.”

“For sure Tuesday?”

“One hundred percent for sure.”

“Okay,” she says, and then wraps her arms tightly around his legs before scampering off towards the playground.

“Hey Amelia!” he calls to her, and she stops and turns to look at him. “Don’t let anyone dull your sparkle!”

A wide, brilliant smile spreads from ear to ear, and he can see those blue eyes sparkle from her stands. “I won’t!” she promises, and then hurries off to join her friends.

****

“You’re worried aren’t you.”

Briefly looking away from the road, he glances over at her as she sits in the passenger seat, watching him intently. Their flight leaves in half an hour; hiring the same old SASR buddy that he’d recruited when he’d gone to see Koen. It’s safer that way if someone is keeping tabs on them; no paper trail, no names on flight manifestos, no record of them ever boarding a flight and heading to The Kimberley. Once in Broome he’d rent a vehicle under a fake name and pay by cash. Anything that has to be done to keep someone...anyone...off their trail. 

They’d be wide open targets there; the land vast and barren and unforgiving. And while he’d have the upper hand both knowing the landscape and having the confidence to use it to his advantage, it’s still not a fight he wants to engage in. Guys like Mahajan don’t just send one person, they send an army of them. If he was alone, he wouldn’t think twice about engaging. But when there’s someone else relying on you to keep them safe, it’s a whole other ball game. It raises the stakes; makes everything much more dangerous and dire. 

“You’ve been really quiet,” Esme says, as she retrieves a pair of aviator style sunglasses from her purse and slips them onto her face. 

True to her word, she’d managed to track down a yellow tank top and a pair of tattered and torn jeans shorts; almost identical to the outfit she’d been wearing when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’s changed since then. They both have. The piercings long gone and her hair six inches shorter. She’s curvier now; hips wider, breasts fuller, ass and legs thicker. She’s carried five babies inside of that little baby, after all. HIS babies. And she’s more beautiful now that she had been back then. And he’d never thought that would be possible.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You’ve been like this since you got back from your time with the kids.”

“I’m fine. Just haven’t had much to say.”

She’s used to it. Even after nearly seven years he’s very much the strong and silent type at times. But there’s usually something behind it now; no longer quiet because he’s busy building up walls to protect himself. 

“This isn’t your normal quiet,” she remarks. “How you get when you’re not feeling chatty. This is your ‘thinking too much’ kind of quiet. I know you, Tyler. Your different moods. I know your different forms of quiet. It’s all in your face; on your face. I’ve only spent nearly seven years trying to sort them all out.”

He smirks. “Anyone ever tell you that YOU think too much?”

“You’ve only been telling me that nearly every day since we met. I know something’s wrong.”

“There’s A LOT wrong,” he reminds her. “A hell of a lot.”

“I’m not talking about all of that and you know it. Did something happen this morning? When you were with the kids? Did you see something? Hear something?”

“I’m just quiet. Nothing happened. I took them for breakfast, dropped them off at school, that’s it.”

Fuck. He knows full well that he should tell her about what Millie had seen. It will only come back to bite him in the ass somehow. The truth always gets out. Always. Whether it’s a week from now, a month from now, even years from now. He doesn’t even know WHY he does it. Why his initial reaction is to always keep things from her. Whether it’s that overwhelming and sometimes all consuming need to protect her from anything and everything or the fear of putting too much worry and stress on her plate. Or maybe it’s just an old habit he can’t shake; years of bottling shit up and letting it eat away at him. 

But instead of just fessing up, he brings up the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you know our kids know I killed someone with a garden rake?”

Esme laughs. “What?”

“They brought it up at breakfast. About me killing two people with a garden rake.”

“Well I know I didn’t tell them. I try NOT to talk about what you did for a living. Or what you DO for a living. I’m so confused. Do we talk about it in past or present tense?”

The way she cocks her head to the side, the way her eyes are slightly narrowed...that’s all Tanner. He’s seen that expression so many times on their boy. Usually reserved for when someone has said something so incredibly stupid that he can’t wrap his head around it. Millie’s insanely smart, but he’s even more so. He’s brilliant and he’s crafty and he’s sneaky in that ‘under the radar, no one will ever expect it’ way. There’s a lot of his mother in that kid. A hell of a lot.

“It’s what I do,” he reasons. “It’s what I’ve gone back to you. It’s what I am.”

“It’s not who you are,” she gently argues. “It’s part of who you are. There’s a difference. Is that what’s bugging you? That they’re starting to realize just what you do? They were going to find out sooner or later, Tyler. And all they think you do is go and get good people away from bad people. That’s the extent of it right now. And they know sometimes you have to hurt the bad people. Sometimes you even have to kill them,” she shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“They’re kids.”

“They’re smart kids. Insanely smart. All three of them. TJ has the dumb ass act down pat, but he’s a smart little bugger. When you actually sit down and talk to him, he’s like talking to an adult. He has shit in his head that blows MY mind. He’s like you; he keeps it all under the surface and uses it when he has to.”

“Is that some roundabout way of calling me a dumb ass?” he teases.

“You are far from dumb. But people underestimate you, too. They always have. They see the muscles and the tattoos and the scars and they immediately think bad ass. That you’re all brawn and no brains. Yet you’re both. And THAT’S what makes you dangerous.”

He grins. “I’m totally the guy your parents told you to stay away from when you’re growing up, aren’t I.”

“You so are,” she laughs. “You’re my father’s worst nightmare. He would have warmed up to you once he got to know you. He would have at least given you a chance; not like everyone else. But I would have brought you home and he would have seen the hair and the ink and all the scars and he would have shit his pants.”

“Is it wrong that that makes me as happy as it does? Knowing I would have successfully corrupted his little girl?”

“You did a good job of it. Corrupting me. I was a good girl until I met you.”

“Like fuck you were.”

“I was! I was sweet and innocent and…”

“Sweet and innocent girls DO NOT bang a guy they just met. I’m sorry. They just don’t. I love you, but there was nothing sweet and innocent about you when we met. You had your tongue pierced.”

“Lots of girls have tongue pierced. It’s cool. It’s edgy.”

“That’s not why you got your tongue pierced and you know it.”

“Maybe I was holding out hope on finding a guy that would let me use it to its full advantage. And then you showed up and boy, did you let me use it to my advantage.”

“I miss that thing. I think you should get it done again. Just because.”

“Yeah, I know what your ‘just because’ is. Maybe for your birthday. We’ll see.”

“That would be the best birthday present EVER. The gift that keeps on giving.”

“I’m already the mother everyone avoids at the school. Why not add something else to the list of things that make me stick out like a sore thumb. Why is everyone so uptight there? It’s a public school, for fuck sake. They act like it’s some posh private school. And they’re scared of you.”

“Good.”

“I hear the teacher made a play for you. At the bar.”

He frowns.

“What? You didn’t think I’d found out? Koen told me. That she tried to get on your dick. She’s lucky I don’t go there and beat her ass. I mean, it’s flattering that everyone thinks my husband is a hottie and totally fuckable, but don’t actually try.”

“Like the guy at the grocery store? The one with Mustang and the man bun? Seriously, Esme? A guy with a man bun? Talk about downgrading.”

She laughs. “Chad.”

“Chad? He even has a douche name.”

“He is a douche. But he’s only twenty-two, so…”

“You’re a fucking cougar. Atta girl.”

“I can’t believe the kids told you about that.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it.”

“What’s there to tell? He grabbed my ass, I told him to fuck off, and then I told him I was going to tell my husband and you were going to show up and rip him in half. And he’s seen you and he thinks you’re totally capable of doing it.”

“I WILL rip him in half.”

“You’re not going to take a garden tool to him?” she teases. “Maybe a shovel to the head? Chop off his dick with a pair of hedge trimmers?”

“You know what…”

“What? What are you going to do Tyler? Nothing. Because you love when I tease you. When I ride your ass about things.”

He smirks. “I like when you ride me, all right.”

“That is NOT what I was talking about and you know it. I’m surprised you’re taking it so well. Finding out about Chad.”

“Chad and his Mustang and his man bun? Fuck. I’m going in there next week just to freak him out.”

“He’ll shit his pants. He’ll see you and piss himself.”

“Good.”

“I thought you’d be pissed. Which is why I didn’t tell you in the first place. But this? I like this. I like this side of you. The one that just laughs it off and doesn’t lose his shit.”

“You handled it. I’m impressed. You’re little but you’re not to be fucked with. Tanner is definitely your son.”

“He’s a tough little bugger. He’s not afraid of anyone. He’s a lot cagier than anyone thinks. He flies under the radar and surprises everyone. Maybe he’s the one that’s going to follow in your footsteps.”

Tyler frowns. “Why the hell would you want that?”

“You really think one of them won’t? My money was on Declan, but I don’t know, Tanner might shock everyone.”

“I don’t want any one of them being like me. Not that way.”

“It’s not the most horrible thing in the world, you know. If one of them does turn out like you. And I’m not just talking about looks and personality.”

“I know what you’re talking about. And I can’t believe you’d even say that, let alone be okay with it.”

“It’s not like you’re a serial killer. There’s worse things in this world you could be doing, you know.”

“I kill people. For money.”

“That’s not ALL you do, Tyler. It’s part of what you do. And one of them wants into it, we can’t stop them. It’ll happen whether we want it to or not. And if you think your kids are going to suddenly hate you or think less of you because of the job…”

“They might.”

“That will never happen. You’re their dad. What you do for a living has no bearing on how you raise them; what kind of father you are. You’re not the same person at home that you are on the job. All that matters to them is who you are when you’re with them. They don’t give a shit about anything else.”

He wants to believe that. He NEEDS to believe that. That when they're older, all they’ll remember are the good things; the times they spend together and that he was never afraid to show them affection or tell them that he loved him. How he’d tuck them in at night and read them bedtime stories and sometimes even fall asleep alongside them; tall, heavy frame way too large for their small beds, yet never complaining about the neck pain or the stiff back he’d wake up with. He hopes they remember that he TRIED. To be a good man. A good father. That they’re able to look back and say that they watched him treat their mother well; loving her with every fibre of his being. 

But the reality of who he is...the things he’s done...it won’t be easy for them to accept. Not when they’re old enough to fully understand things.

And he thinks of Nik and her last ditch attempt to talk him out of settling down. She’d first tried when he’d found out that he was going to be a father again; making the mistake of confiding in her about just how scared he actually was. Not that he was having a baby, but that he’d only fuck things up again. She’d encouraged him to just cut all ties; convince Esme -only three months pregnant at the time- to go back to the States and live her life as a single mother. Telling him that he didn’t need the extra stress and worry while he was trying to recover; a baby would only be a burden he couldn’t afford and shouldn’t take on. 

He’d refused to listen; he wasn’t abandoning her or their kid. He was going ‘all in’; they’d move in with one another and get to know each other and have the baby and raise it together. It wasn’t the conventional way of doing things. But they hadn’t started out conventional so why start being that way now? They’d make it work; they’d fall in love if that was in the cards and they’d have a good life and maybe even have more kids. It was the first time in his life -since Austin died- that he felt hopeful; he had a reason to live and not put a gun in his mouth or keep going on suicide missions in hopes of catching a bullet.

The last time she’d tried to ‘get through to him’ was the night before he got married. Asking him to meet her for a few ‘pre congratulatory drinks’ and then both propositioning him and trying to get him to change his mind. Attempting to convince him that this life -a husband, a father- wasn’t meant for someone like him. Someone who had the guilt and the regret and his kind of past. That being a family man AND a merc just wasn’t possible. Did he really want his children finding out years down the road just WHO he was? Did he really think they’d be able to accept that? Did he really think they’d love him knowing the truth?

“Tyler?” Her voice is soft. Concerned. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he gives a reassuring smile. “Just thinking about stuff.”

“Bad stuff or…?”

“No. Just stuff that doesn’t matter anymore and I need to let go.”

“About…?”

“About nothing important. Just an old conversation with someone. About where my life was and where it was heading. Just some shit they said that pisses me off now when I think about it. They weren’t saying it for me. They were saying it for them.”

“We’re talking about Nik aren’t we.”

He nods.

“She won’t stop calling. She won’t stop sending emails. I can’t avoid her forever. YOU can’t avoid her forever. I think she wants to make amends. And normally I’d say ‘fuck her’ and that she made her bed and know she has to lie in it, but I actually feel kind of sorry for her.”

“That’s a first. You feeling sorry for her.”

“First you abandon her. Now Kyle.”

“Okay first off, I didn’t abandon her. There was nothing to abandon. I used to fuck her. That’s it.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so good at it,” Esme teases. “She wouldn’t still be holding on as tight as she is.”

“Or maybe she can just leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t think this about wanting to jump on your dick. I think she’s finally gotten the picture that that’s NOT going to happen. I think she’s legitimately hurt. That you went and started your own business without at least telling her. Or giving her the opportunity to partner with you.”

“I don’t want anything to do with her. Tell her that the next time she calls.”

“I have an idea!” She clamps a hand down on his knee. “Why don’t YOU tell her? Nik is your mess, not mine. I’ve spent almost seven years dealing with her shit. I’m done. It’s your turn.”

Tyler sighs.

“Just call her and see what she wants. What’s the worst that could happen? She wants to work with you? Or just wants to reem you out for stealing her people? Just hear her out and hang up on her if you have to.”

“I’ll call her. When we get back.”

“And please call Yaz. He says he wants to talk to you. That he has an offer for you.”

“What kind of offer?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Just that he had an offer and you needed to hear it. So call him too. So I don’t have to keep putting up with these people. Because I’m on my last thread of sanity and if I lose that last threat…”

“I’ll be the one paying for it.”

“Exactly! See? You get it. Only took you nearly seven years to figure out how things work. Happy wife, happy life, right? You’re catching on.”

“You and your fucking mouth…”

“You love me. And my mouth.”

“I’m not denying EITHER of those things.”

“I’m not talking about what I do with my mouth. I’m talking about what comes out of it.”

He smirks. “Sure you are…”

“Your mind is permanently in the gutter. Middle age suits you.”

“Fuck you and your middle age crap. I’ve still got at least fifteen years to go before I’m middle age.”

“Tyler, no one lives to be a hundred and ten.”

“You just watch me.”

“You know what? You’d be the one who would. You’d be the one that after getting shot, stabbed, hit with a shovel, hit by a car, everything else that’s been done to you and you’ve been through, that WOULD live that long. Somehow that makes sense. The one that should have died a long time ago ends up living that long.”

“I’m too stubborn to die.”

“I’ve never heard anything MORE true. I like hearing this kind of talk from you. Instead of the doom and the gloom. Instead of hearing you talk about not coming home and being stuck in Mumbai and…”

“Hey…” he reaches out and takes her hand in his, settling them on his thigh. “...let’s NOT talk about Mumbai, okay? For four days, let’s not talk about that. Or the job. Let’s just...I don’t know...talk about normal stuff. The weather and what we want to eat and things we want to do. I don’t care how boring it is or how stupid is seems. I just want us to be...I don’t know...normal.”

“Have we met? Neither of us are normal.”

“Okay, so our version of normal. I don’t want to talk about Mumbai or Mahajan or the job or…”

“If you didn’t want to talk about it or think about it, you wouldn’t have brought THAT,” she lifts the bottom of his t-shirt and nods down at the holster and gun on his right hip. 

“Might have to kill a dingo. Wasn’t that in the wedding vows too? That I wouldn’t let a dingo get you?”

“That’s what hunting rifles are for. Not Glocks.”

“Just better to be safe than sorry. We don’t know who is out there. If anyone IS out there.”

“Do you think there is? Someone out there? Watching us?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You’d tell me, right? If you felt that way?”

He nods.

“You know what’s funny? You’re the one that is talking about us ‘talking’ when we’re there. I’m the one that’s looking forward to the sex.”

He chuckles. “Well I’m looking forward to THAT too. Weird hearing you mention it first though.”

She laughs. “I can’t help it. There’s something wrong with my hormones. That’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“And you call me ‘extra’.”

“I want to have all the sex,” she enthuses. “With you. All of it. Like dirty, raunchy, adult sex. The kind we can’t have at home because we always have to worry about kids interrupting us. I mean hard core sex. Like in Dhaka. Where I can make all the noise I want and no one can hear it.”

“Everyone in the hotel in Dhaka heard. They all knew my name and I never told anyone of them my name. So…”

“Remember the time the people next to us complained to the manager? The second night? I think they were just jealous. They wished they were getting dicked down that good.”

“I do miss that kind of thing,” he admits. “It’s a turn on. Hearing you.”

“You’re such a bad influence. I really WAS a good girl before I met you. I don’t know what got into me.”

“I know exactly what got into you.”

“Well if you weren’t so good at these things…”

“Isn’t that part of why you married me?” he chides. “Because I am good at those things?”

“One of the reasons. There’s a lot of them. Reasons. I really married you because of your hair, so technically I should have filed for divorce the second you made me shave it off.”

“I’m growing it back. Relax.”

“And you’re getting scruffy again,” she grins, and rubs her hand against his cheek. “You’re all sorts of sexy. No wonder I put out so much. And it’s going to be good for us. Getting away. And not just because of sex. Just to be alone together. Be able to relax and just...I don’t know...be together. We haven’t had that in a long time.”

He nods in agreement. “I don’t know if we’ve ever really had that. And no. Dhaka does NOT count.”

“That’s because you were getting paid to have sex with me.”

“In a weird way, yeah.”

“I really was whoring myself out to you.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just something someone said. It’s not important. What’s important is us and the next four days. And me NOT getting eaten by a dingo.”

He laughs at that. “I’ll protect you from all the dingoes, baby.”

“I know,” she smiles, and then rests her head against his shoulder. “You'll protect me from ANYTHING.”

He nods in agreement. It’s true. He WOULD protect her from anything. Anyone.

No matter what it costs.


	48. Chapter 48

She sleeps on the car ride from Broome, not even waking when he stops at a grocery store to pick up much needed supplies. One of his hoodies folded and being used as a pillow as her head rests against the window; body turned sideways, both legs draped across his thighs. She’s worn out; mentally AND physically. The worry and the stress -and the enormity of the current situation- has caused a host of issues. Sleep problems, migraines, nausea, dizziness. Part of him wishes it WERE possible -even remotely- for her to be pregnant; another baby so soon after Addie would be a relief compared to the other scenarios running through his mind. He hates that his mind goes there’ into the dark and fatalistic place. Losing your first born will do that to you; strip away your optimism while heightening your paranoia. Austin’s illness had blindsided him. What was suspected to be simply a stubborn and lingering flu bug turning out to something so much worse. The ferocity of his cancer had taken everyone -even the specialists- by surprise- and they’re been little they could do to contain it; to slow down the damage it was causing. Three months. That’s all that remained between diagnosis and death. And it’s left a lot of mental trauma in its wake, even ten years later. It’s Tyler’s worst nightmare; the thought of losing her to something completely beyond his control. A threat like Mahajan is one thing. He can fight back against that; his own actions being what dictates the outcome. But a serious and possibly life altering -or even threatening- illness? Where there’s nothing he can to stop it from taking hold and progressing? That’s a thought that’s almost too much to bear.

When they arrive at their destination he leaves her in the car, giving himself the opportunity to perform a ‘search and secure’. It’s both old habit AND necessity. Anytime he’s away from home due to the job he thoroughly investigates his surroundings, whether they’re familiar or not. In that line of work you can never be too careful. Always assume that someone is watching; looking for the weak spot in your defences so they can take advantage of them. It’s just part of the game; his many years spent in a dangerous and unpredictable lifestyle have left a permanent mark. And he hates that there’s an actual NEED for it now. Theirs targets on their backs and not even this -the place that was once home- is safe. It’s a very real possibility that there’s someone, or even a number of people, keeping their eyes on them. With Mahajan’s money, he can afford to hire the best. He won’t use street thugs or rookies that will only make mistakes. He’d send people that know how to get the job done.

While the old homestead is wide open, it DOES offer some sense of security A surprise attack would be near impossible to carry out. His hearing is sharp; he’d hear tires on the gravel, the squeak of the rusted metal gate, the crunching of dirt and stone under heavy feet. The tree line is sparse and would provide little to no cover, and the mountains are rough and unforgiving even to those who are familiar with them. And even if someone did manage to navigate the terrain, they’d have to be one hell of a good shot. Not even the best of marksmen would find it easy; guys like G with extensive sniper experience. And it’s those thoughts that give at least some sort of comfort. He’s experienced; confident in his strength and his skills. He knows the land; able to navigate it and use it to his advantage. 

Mahajan would know that; his guys wouldn’t last long in the unfamiliar terrain and he would hesitate on sending them there. But there’s still a chance he would, and that’s not a gamble Tyler is willing to take. So he checks the house and all of the outbuildings; anywhere that someone could possibly hide. And as he slowly and methodically walks the perimeter, his eyes scan the treeline and the mountain range; looking for anything that looks even remotely suspicious. His hearing is sharp and keen; listening for any unusual or unfamiliar noise. There’s nothing. Just the faint rumble of thunder in the distance and the sounds of rustling trees and bushes as the breeze passes through them.

Esme’s awake when he returns; still sitting in the car and watching him through her side mirror. It’s why they work so well together. Not just her knowledge of the job and all the danger and unpredictability that comes with it, but her knowledge of HIM. After almost seven years, she knows how his mind works and trusts him -and his instincts- implicitly. She would have known upon waking and finding herself alone exactly what he was up to. And her own time in the game - her experience with working side by side with mercs and seeing how they think and operate- would have her staying where she is until the ‘all clear was given’. They always seem to be in sync with one another; common experiences and their shared life always ensuring that they function as a team. It’s what makes them as strong as they are together, he supposes. They know the other’s next moves before they even begin to execute them; often aware of what the other is thinking or getting ready to say.

She waits until he’s a foot from the car before she pops open her door and steps out. “Everything good?” she asks, and then stretches noisily; bottom of her tank top rising up as she brings her arms over her head and revealing a slice of pale, smooth skin. 

She complains about it often. Fretting over her stomach being nowhere as trim and smooth as it used to be. Lamenting the stretch marks that carrying five babies have left behind. And it’s not he’s never noticed them; often tracing them with his fingers or the tip of his tongue. It’s that he doesn’t see them the way she does. Those so called imperfects are reminders; badges of honor. That she’d sacrificed her body to give him children. She’s carried life inside of her. That they’d made together. And that realization only makes her more beautiful in his eyes. You never fully appreciate how strong and selfless the woman you love is until you’ve seen her pregnant. And you don’t think you could possibly love her more than you already do and then she becomes a mother and everything intensifies.

“Everything’s good,” he confirms, and then lays a palm against her stomach and leans down to kiss her. Frowning when she pushes his hand away and then yanks down the front of her shirt. “What?” She’s been extra self conscious since having Addie. Often refusing to even take off her shirt when they make love.

“You know I don’t like my tummy.”

“Well I do. So…”

“You’re weird,” she says, and then moves his hand to her side when he once again attempts to lay it against her stomach.

“YOU’RE weird.”

“Yeah, but you knew that seven years ago and you still married me. So you only have yourself to blame.”

“I’m pretty happy with my decision,” Tyler says, and covers her mouth with his. 

The kiss is slow and deep as his hand slides around to the small of her back and then down onto her ass; squeezing tightly as his body leans into hers and presses her into the side of the car. Tasting a mixture of strawberry flavored lip gloss and a hint of the white wine she’d had on the plane. And while she’s the only woman he’s been intimate with -in any way or form- in the past seven years, no two kisses ever feel the same. Her lips are soft and familiar. The kind of familiarity that is never dull or boring but always makes you feel welcome and safe. Like a favorite hiding place as a child or that one sweater that is well worn and loved, yet still makes you warm and comfortable when you wear it. Every kiss...every touch...even every smile she gives him...brings him back to that. It feels like...home. And even after the kiss ends he stays tightly pressed against her, eyes closed as his hands move up to the middle of her back. Enjoying the feel of her body move against his as she perches on her tiptoes, her arms wrapped around his neck.

“So there were no bad guys lying in wait?” Esme teases, when he finally breaks away and tosses open the back passenger door. “Or did you already find and beat the shit out of them?”

“Now I know where Millie gets that talk from,” Tyler grins, as he pulls duffels and grocery bags from the back seat.

“She knows you’re an expert on kicking asses, just like I do. She knows there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to protect her.”

“I WILL break someone in half if they mess with her. Any guy that breaks her heart is going to regret the day he was born.”

“Now you’re actually admitting she’ll eventually meet boys. That’s progress for you. You’re so worried about her, what are you going to do when your sons start having girls calling at all hours of the day? Or if they get someone pregnant and make us grandparents way too young.”

“I’ll kick their asses is what I’ll do. Tanner says he wants two wives when he grows up.”

“Men can’t keep one woman happy, never mind two at once. Present company excluded. You’ve become very good at towing the line and keeping me happy.”

“It’s not that hard. All I have to do is either say ‘yes dear’ or ‘no dear’ or even just smile and nod. I just have to bring you tacos, gets the snakes and spiders out of the house, clean the toilets, and fuck you good. I’ve managed so far, haven’t I?”

“Might not now that I know your secret,” she teases. “Although the last part you’ve always been excellent at. Even when things were really bad, that was always really good. And we least we have SOME consistency.”

She’s right. Even when things went to shit and were at their very worst and they were fighting and a permanent end seemed like a very real possibly, sex had been the one thing they could rely on. When all the arguing and the harsh words and the animosity were temporarily put on hold and the bodies did all the communicating for them. It wasn’t a healthy way of dealing with things, but it was THEIR way of dealing. And coping.

“****

“It hasn’t changed THAT much,” she comments; eyes surveying the exterior of the shack as they work together to carry the bags inside. “Other than a new roof and a touch of paint, it’s pretty much what I remember. Kind of weird, don’t you think? Being back here together?”

“Never thought about it.”

“Do you ever miss it? Being here?”

“Why would I? My life’s a lot better now.”

“You’re not for sentiment, are you. You don’t feel anything? Doesn’t it bring back ANY memories?”

“Other than the day we met? Not many.”

There’s not much to fondly look back on. When he was actually home, most of his days were spent in a booze and pain med induced haze. Or he was passed out. There are weeks, even months, that he can’t remember, aside from taking any job Nik brought his way; devoting himself to one suicide mission after another. 

“Everything was shit before you came along,” Tyler admits, as he presses his back against the door to hold it open. “I was shit. You wouldn’t have wanted to know me. I don’t think you realize just how big of a mess I actually was.”

Dhaka changed everything. Most just the moments on the bridge and getting shot by Farhad or the months of recovery forcing him to get clean and sober. Or finding out that he was having a kid. But those five days in that dirty hotel room. When he actually started feeling alive again instead of simply just existing.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” Esme counters as she steps past him, intentionally too close so her body slides against his and the back of her hand brushes over the front of his shorts. “I know you had your issues, but you weren’t a lost cause. Look how far you’ve come in seven years. If you’d really wanted to give up...if you'd really wanted to die...you would have found a way to do it long before I came along.”

“Maybe,” he says, as he drops the duffel bags in the bedroom area and then joins her in the kitchen where she begins putting the groceries away.

“There had to be some reason you didn’t do it,” she reasons. “If you were THAT bad off and wanted to die, you would have done it. You had guns in the house; you could have used them and just been done with it.”

“Maybe I was just a coward and couldn’t get up the balls to do it myself.”

“I don’t believe that. You are not a coward. You’re the furthest thing from being a coward. A coward doesn’t do the things you do. A coward runs away from those things, or they’re the ones that cause them in the first place. Guys like Asif and Mahajan? They’re the cowards. Getting other people to do their dirty work; preying on the vulnerable, ruining lives. You get people away from guys like that. You try to stop these things. You aren’t a coward.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about Mahajan? Or the job.”

“I’m trying to make a point. My husband is NOT a coward. You’re basing that off of one mistake you made. You were twenty five years old when Austin died. You made a bad decision. A horrible decision. But do you pay for it for the rest of your life? You’re a different person now. Say one of our kids get sick.”

“Esme…”

“I know it’s your worst fear, but hear me out. Hypothetically speaking, if one of them got sick, would you take off? Or if I got sick. Would you haul ass on out of here?”

“Of course not. I’m not who I was back then.”

“Exactly. Way back then. When you were thirty one and had a shitty wife that had seen more pricks than a pin cushion.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. “That’s a pretty accurate description, actually.”

“You’re almost forty one now.” she continues. “You’re NOT the same guy. At all. And you’re not a coward. You never have been. You know how you always say I need to stop talking shit about myself and try to see myself through your eyes? Well you should do the same. Because the way you look at yourself? That is not the way I look at you. Or how your kids look at you. You’re not a bad person, Tyler. Regardless of what you think.”

He steps behind her now, reaching over her to help put things on the shelves she can’t reach.

“Something inside of you told you to stay alive.” she says. “Maybe it was telling you that things were going to get better. Maybe it was saying there was something...someone...out there that was going to give you a reason to keep going. I don’t know. But I do know that if you had really wanted to die, you would have done it.”

“I think you think too much about stuff like this.”

“You knew what I was like. You had your chance to get away and you didn’t take it. Now look. Now look how deep you’re stuck in it.”

“Yeah…” he lays his hands on her shoulders, kneading and massaging the tight muscles. “...five kids is pretty deep in it.”

“You think?” she scoffs.

“You know what would put me even deeper in it? Six kids.”

Esme turns around to face him, leaning back against the cupboards, hands on the counter top. “We are NOT talking about that either. It’s way too soon after Addie. She’s only five weeks old.”

“Millie was only eight weeks old when you got pregnant with the boys,” he reminds her.

“Even if we wanted another one this soon, we can’t. That can’t happen because we decided no more babies after Addie and you went and got the old…” she holds up a hand and mimics scissors open and closing with her index and middle finger.

“I’ll call the doctor when we get back. See what has to be done.”

“This is not the time to be talking about this.”

“Seems like as good a time as any. It’s just me and you. No one to interrupt.”

“You know what I’m talking about. With everything that’s happening right now, with everything that IS going to happen, this is not the time to be talking about having another baby.”

She doesn’t need to say it; the implication hanging heavily in the air. Every job you take on is unpredictable. Each one comes with its own set of hazards and burdens. Not once has he gotten out of one without some kind of injury; whether it be as simple as stitches or a concussion or a busted nose or a broken bone. Sometimes things were worse; knife wounds, bullets you have to dig out of various parts of your body. But what’s coming up...Mumbai...it’s as dangerous and risky as it gets. There’s no real game plan; just arm yourself to the teeth and hope for the best. But she’s right. It isn't the time to talk about adding to their family. Or even consider it. Because nothing would be worse than deciding to go for it and then him not making it back home.

“When you get back,” she says, as her hands slide across his shoulders and down his chest, a somewhat confident smile curving her lips. “Once you get things done and you’re home, then we’ll discuss it. Once everything is finished and calm and we don’t worry about this anymore.” Her hands reach his waist, slipping under the front of his t-shirt and resting on his belt. “I mean, there will ALWAYS be something to worry about now that you’re back in things and we have the business and…”

“But nothing like this. This? Everything that’s going on? This is…”

“Fucked?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Things will be okay” her smile is brighter now; eyes sparkling up at him. “You’ll go there and you’ll do what you need to do, and then you’ll come home. And then things can go back to normal. Our version of normal.”

He nods in agreement, his bottom lip between his teeth as he combs his fingers through her hair and then tucks it behind her ears.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, as his hands come to rest on her shoulders and his thumbs brush along her jaw. “I know that look, Tyler. I’ve seen that look before. That’s the look you gave me before you sent me off with Ovi and Saju, That EXACT same look. And we both know how things almost ended that THAT time.”

He wants to tell her that everything is going to be okay. That it’s as simple as picking a name from a list and tracking their owners down. But the truth of the matter is that nothing is ever that easy. Every job comes with complications and its glitches no matter how boring and routine they’re supposed to be. He might manage to get to two or three of the guys before Mahajan catches on and realizes who is responsible. After that the bounty on his head will increase significantly and moving around the city without being recognized will be complicated. Every gun in Mumbai will be trained on him, and that’s a hell of a thing to escape.

“You promise me,” she orders. “You promise me you’re coming home.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“Promise me,” she demands, both hands yanking at his belt, pulling him closer to her. “Promise me, Tyler.”

“I can’t,” he says, then presses a kiss to her forehead before drawing her into his arms.

****

They lay in a mess of tangled and rumbled sheets and sweat soaked limbs; stifling heat and the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Both sated and spent and resting on their sides, her back tucked into his front, their tightly joined hands resting on next to her head. Bodies and hair damp from perspiration; one of his thicker and heavier legs draped over hers and the top of his nose pressed against the nape of her neck. He can’t remember a time where he’s felt THIS relaxed; every muscle, every tendon, every ligament feeling loose and at ease. The pain in his back, shoulder, and knee nothing more than a light throbbing; a far cry from the stiffness and the agony that often makes getting out of bed in the morning seen like an insurmountable chore. Yet his senses remain sharp. Hearing her soft, slow breathing and the fluttering and flapping of the curtains as the breeze flows through open windows. Smelling the mix of sweat and other bodily fluids and the remnants of shampoo that cling to her hair. Still tasting her on his lips and his tongue and feeling the softness of her skin with her back against his chest and his thumb repeatedly brushing against hers.

These moments...the stillness and the quiet that exist after they make love...are rare these days. Their lives busy and full; the demands of raising a family often stripping away any real alone time and any form of true intimacy. There’s no one to blame for that; it is what it is. They often forget that their roles in each other’s lives extend far past just making babies and taking care of them together. And he’s missed these times. When things aren’t so hectic and their lives don’t seem so chaotic and all they have to worry about is each other. It’s been almost six years since they’ve been child free. Almost seven since those five days in Dhaka. 

Of all the shitty and horrible things that had happened there…all the lives taken...how close he’d come to his own demise…it’s still nice to think about those moments in that cramped and dirty hotel room. Where he’d felt the first of the walls he’d built up around slowly crumbling down around him. It was the first time in years that he’d felt THAT alive. Where someone didn’t look at him with disgust or pity. He’d always seen on Nik’s face; written as plain as day. How disappointed she was in him; how big of a mess he’d made of himself and his life. Yet she’d never balked when it came to fucking him. Maybe she’d seen it as a form of charity; believing she was doing him a favor and lowering her standards by hooking up with the hired help. Yet in Dhaka, with Esme, he’d been both surprised -and slightly terrified- at how well they connected. It had never been that smooth and easy, especially with a woman. He’d spent years avoiding forming bonds with who he slept with; leaving almost as soon as the deed was finished and never looking back.

It had been different. SHE had been different. And he found he smiled more when he was around her. Laughed easier. He didn’t feel judged for his choice of career or the mistakes he’d made; especially when his son was dying. He found he liked the sound of her voice and the feel of her body pressed against his in bed and the way she’d smile at him whenever he returned to the room. Dhaka had been the first time where he actually enjoyed the moments after sex. Those sleepy conversations and how easy it was to share even the deepest and darkest of secrets with her. And on the fourth day he’d found himself actually hopeful about something; confident that once they were out of Bangladesh and away from the job, they could make something out of whatever the hell was happening between them. It SHOULD have been just another job. Get the information, get out, get home. But it had quickly turned into something so much more. Two broken and damaged people somehow finding comfort and solace during such a crazy, unpredictable time.

“Tyler?” she asks now, and his eyes snap open and he presses a kiss to the back of her head.

“Yeah?”

“Are you awake?”

“Would I have answered if I wasn’t?”

“Don’t be such a smart ass,” she grumbles.

He chuckles into her hair. “I’m awake..”

“I think we should agree right now that we never…ever…tell Koen we christened his kitchen table.”

He laughs. “I agree.” 

It had been intense. A brief but heated argument over his refusal to promise he was coming home turning into a quick hard fuck; her bent over the table and her hair clutched tightly in his first. The second time -after carrying her to bed still buried inside of her- had been slow and lazy; wandering hands and long, deep kisses and two rounds of foreplay followed languid, attentive love making.

“You finally got your kitchen table fantasy fulfilled,” she says. “Only took you seven years. Was it what you imagined it would be?”

He smiles against the back of her neck. “It was even better.”

“It’s weird being here with you.”

“Yeah?” He places a kiss to her shoulder, then her temple. “Why?”

“Not weird in a bad way. Just weird. This is where we met. Almost seven years ago. And we’re here and we’re totally different than we were back then. In so many ways.”

He nods in agreement. “If anyone had have told me that my fake wife would end up my real wife, I would have told them they were fucking crazy. That was the last thing I ever thought I’d do again. Get married.”

“I told myself I never WOULD do it again. That there wasn’t any man on the planet that could convince me to try it a second time. And...well...look where we are now.”

“Guess I should be lucky that Gaspar was out of the game. That’s who Nik went to first.”

“Oh god,” Esme groans. “I would have had to have been fake married to HIM?”

“Afraid so.”

“Well my Dhaka experience would have gone entirely differently if that had happened. Because there was no way he would have gotten the same treatment you did.”

Tyler grins and nuzzles the tip of his nose against her ear, then kisses it. “He wasn’t your type?”

“Eww! No! What is wrong with you? I do have standards, you know. Thank God he said no. I’m going to have nightmares now. Thanks, Tyler.”

“I’ll help you sleep better.”

“I’m sure you will. You know, to be fair, I didn’t want to be fake married to anyone. I thought the entire thing sounded ridiculous.”

“See. We DO agree on things.”

“I’m just glad you turned out better than I thought you would.”

“How you mean?”

“You know how you hear stories and rumours about someone and you create a picture in your mind? Of what they’re going to look like?”

Tyler nods.

“Well you totally did NOT look like what I pictured.”

“What did you picture?”

“I thought you’d be older. Much older. Rough looking. Weathered. Mean, even. I was not expecting you to look like you do. I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least. I changed my mind very quick about Nik’s idea.”

“You at least knew beforehand. I had it dropped on me. And she was fucking sneaky about it, too. Had me agreeing to get the kid before telling me about everything else. I didn’t have a choice after that. I was in whether I liked it or not. I couldn’t exactly back out.”

“Yeah, I saw the look on your face. When Nik talked about what she wanted us to do. You were NOT happy.”

“I’d already been real married,” he says. “Why would I want to be fake married?”

“Well for one, it doesn’t cost money to get a fake divorce.”

He grins. “Good point.”

“Was it THAT awful? The thought of being fake married to me? To be THAT pissed about it? Geez. Thanks.”

“That’s not what I was pissed about. It was the whole thing. The whole idea. It seemed fucked up. It still seems fucked up when I think about it. But it wasn’t about you. It was NEVER about you.”

“It scared you. Knowing you’d have to be THAT close to someone. You didn’t like that idea, did you? That I’d be that close. You were worried about what I’d think about you. If I saw you drinking and taking the meds. You didn’t want me seeing all of that. Seeing YOU.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Tyler agrees.

“But you still went along with it. You could have changed your mind.”

“I could have. But I didn’t. What guy is going to turn down five days in a hotel room with you?”

She snorts. “Bold of you to just assume that I’d sleep with you.”

“I didn’t assume anything. I was a little hopeful. I’ll admit that.”

“Just a little?”

“I was there to do a job. Not get laid. But someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“I am not accepting blame for any of it,” Esme laughs. “You made the first move. You’re the one that had me pressed up against a wall. With your hand around my throat.”

“That wasn't a sexual ploy. I was pissed.”

“You were so hot. IT was so hot.”

He chuckles.

“And you kissed me first, so…”

“You kissed me back. You could have punched me in the face or kneed me in the dick. But you didn’t. You went along with it. So you’re just as much to blame as I am.”

“Bullshit!” she argues. “You seduced me and you know it, Tyler.”

“You and I remember that day very differently.”

“You seduced me with your stupidly handsome face and your stupidly ripped body and stupidly beautiful blue eyes.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Sorry.”

“They were the first thing I noticed about you,” she says. “Your eyes. I was on the porch with the dog, and when I looked up you were watching me. At first you were so intense and then you actually smiled at me. It was a little smile, but it was still a smile.”

“I liked what I saw.”

“I remember thinking ‘god he has beautiful eyes’. And then you turned around to say something to Nik and I got to see that you had a really nice ass too. I was sold right there and then. Beautiful eyes and an ass that looks like that? Sign me up. Maybe this fake husband thing won’t be so bad after all. And then I noticed the hair and the arms and the hands.”

“The hands?”

“You have beautiful hands.”

Frowning, his fingers release the grip on hers and he holds his hand out with the fingers played. Palm down first, then up. “You call that beautiful?” The calluses, the misshapen knuckles; the scars from surgeries, various fights, knife wounds, and from when he’d repeatedly yanked out his IV in the hospital. 

“Very beautiful,” she says, and places her palm flat against his; the size difference in their hands both surreal and humorous. “Because they’re your hands. They’re Tyler’s hands. I know what they’re capable of and I know how they feel. I’ve seen them braid a little girl’s hair and rock babies to sleep and clean skinned knees. They’re very beautiful hands.”

Smiling, he lifts his head long and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You were so different,” he recalls. “Than anyone I’d ever met. Especially out here.”

“Different in a good way or…?”

“A very good way. I didn’t know who you were or what you were doing here, but all of sudden you were out there on my porch and I was watching you and listening to you with my dog. It was almost like it wasn’t real. Mind you, I was pretty fucked up on booze and Oxy and it would have made sense if I’d been hallucinating.”

She gives a small, dry laugh.

“But you were. Different. I saw the ink and the piercings and those huge dark eyes and I thought ‘fuck, she’s cute’.”

She groans.

“There is nothing wrong with being called cute. You WERE cute. You still are. You were cute and you were small and you had all those piercings and all those tats. Like part good girl, part bad girl. Certainly wasn’t expecting the likes of you to wander through my door that day. I’m glad you did though.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “VERY glad you did. Sorry I was such a dick.”

“You were fine. You seemed more annoyed with Nik than with me. And you offered me a drink. Two drinks, actually.”

“I knew the second you downed the first one that I was in trouble.”

She laughs at that, then rolls over to face him. “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay…”

“Promise me you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“It’s a little...I don’t know...weird. Maybe even a little off putting.”

“Alright…”

“That night...when Nik and I got back to the hotel in Fitzroy Crossing...I was going to call you.”

“For what?”

She arches both eyebrows and stares at him pointedly.

“Oh…oh...THAT. You were going to call for THAT.”

“I was,” she admits, and then buries her face in his chest and giggles.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I have a huge fear of rejection. If I’d called and you said no…”

“I would NOT have said no.”

“...it would have made working together extremely awkward.”

He pushes a hand through her hair; those fine, soft, dark tresses slipping slowly through his fingers. “You should have called.”

“You would have showed up?”

“I definitely would have showed up.”

“Wouldn’t it have made things weird between us? If we’d hooked up that night, wouldn’t it have made working together...I don’t know...difficult?”

“Why would I? I still would have fucked you in Dhaka. That wouldn’t have changed.”

“Change one thing, everything changes. You always say that.”

“I don’t think THAT would have changed. Why wouldn’t I have wanted to in Dhaka? You think I would have been able to stop at one night? You’re underestimating your own skills.”

“What if you’d been disappointed? What if you showed up in Fitzroy Crossing and the sex sucked and you didn’t want more once we got to Dhaka?”

“That wouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I DO know that. I wasn’t disappointed the first time in Dhaka, right?”

“That’s a very good point. I’ll give you that. But…”

“There’s no buts. I would have showed up, I wouldn’t have disappointed, and things would have stayed the same in Dhaka. We wouldn’t have Millie if things DIDN’T happen Dhaka.”

“She’s the only good thing that came out of that place.”

“I don’t know about that. We’re pretty good.”

“Yes,” she smiles. “We ARE pretty good. I think we’re very good, actually.”

“We have our moments,” he agrees.

“We have more really good moments than we have bad moments. It’s just that we remember the bad before we remember the good.” She skims the knuckles of one hand along his jaw. “You’re letting it get longer. You’re unleashing your inner lumberjack again.”

“That’s how you like it best, right? You don’t like it like it when I trim it back.”

“I much prefer it like this. How it was when we met. Your hair’s growing in too. We’ll have to shave the back and the sides while we’re here.”

“I don’t ever want to hear you say I never do anything nice for you,” he chides.

“You shockingly do a lot of nice things for me. For a guy that’s such a bad ass that kills people with garden tools.”

Smirking, he wraps an around her waist and rolls onto his back, pulling her onto top of him. “You’re obsessed with that.”

“As psycho as it’s going to make me sound, it’s kind of a turn on. When I think about you kicking the shit out of people and getting all ragey and violent. I kind of like that side of you. Knowing what you’re capable of on the job. Probably because I know what you’re like when you’re NOT on the job and how different the two sides are. They’re both sexy in their own way. Job Tyler and domestic Tyler.”

“I think you have issues.”

“I do,” she grins, and pecks his lips. “A six foot three, two hundred and thirty pound issue.”

“I think I’m hovering at two forty. Maybe two forty five,”

“It’s your ginormous arms and shoulders and your big ass thighs. Sexy, big ass thighs, mind you. And your butt. It’s a great butt.”

“You said that already.”

“Great butts need to be told they’re great butts,” she reasons. 

“This…” he runs his hands down her back and grabs her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “...is a great butt.”

“Not as great as it used to be,” she pouts. “ Having five kids will do that to you.”

“It’s still a great butt to me.”

“You’re very biased.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make it less true.” 

Smiling, she slides further up her body and kisses him. Soft and slow at first, then more demanding; tongue eagerly pushing its way into his mouth, fingers tightly gripping his hair as his own continue and squeeze and fondle the cheeks of her ass. And a low growl rumbles deep in his chest when she grinds her pelvis against his and he feels the stirring of his erection.

“You’re demanding.” he grins, fingertips digging almost painfully into her ass as she kisses and nibbles her away along his jaw, slowly making her way upwards. 

“I think you should make love to me again,” she whispers into his ear, then traces the outer edge with the tip of her tongue. 

Groaning, he lifts his hips from the bed, pressing his rapidly hardening cock against her before gripping her hips and flipping her over onto her back. A smirk on his face as both his hands and his mouth slowly descend her body, starting at the valley between her breasts. 

“I think so too.”


	49. Chapter 49

She sits on the edge of the front porch as she watches him work. The sun harsh and punishing as it beats down on broad shoulders and back, wide chest and powerful arms; rivers of sweat glistening under the brilliant light. The perspiration that dampens his hair makes it look several shades darker; sides and back freshly shaved, the top growing in quickly and beginning to fall across his forehead. Sunglasses on and barefoot, clad in only a pair of cargo shorts that sit dangerously low on his hips. Every muscle in his upper body bulging and twisting with each swing of the axe; movement easy and effortless as he chops and splinters logs from a haphazardly stacked pile Koen had left near the fire pit. It’s a thing of beauty to observe. How that body moves and the power that inhabits it. The veins that protrude in those thick, strong forearms, the multitude of scars and tattoos that use his skin as a canvas. 

Even after nearly seven years together and five children, it’s hard NOT to lust after someone that looks like THAT. He’s the embodiment of masculinity; brawn and immense strength, bravado and confidence without the air of cockiness. Rough skin and large callused hands and an intensity and edge that are always lingering just under the surface. But there’s other things that make him the man he is. The compassion and the gentleness that he possesses; extraordinary patience and an ability to keep calm, cool, and collected even when the rage is beginning to build. It’s the way he’s so secure in that masculinity; never shying away from things like braiding his little girl’s hair and daring anyone to tell him it’s not the most manly EVER. It's the ferocity behind his desire to protect what -and who he considers ‘his’; a steadfast loyalty and faithfulness that never breaks. When he loves, he loves big. He’s ‘all in; dedicating his entire heart and soul and giving nothing but fierce and unwavering devotion. 

She’s the lucky one. The beneficiary of it all. Never remembering a time that someone had given that much of themselves to her; never questioning their feelings or second guessing her own. No one else had ever made her feel the things he does. Not just a mix of overwhelming and all consuming love and unbridled carnal want and need, but the feeling of being safe and secure. That knowledge that someone will do anything...stop at nothing...to protect her. Mark had only ever been interested in hurting others; dedicating himself to inflicting as much emotional and physical pain and turmoil as he could. Tyler commits himself to fixing those things; quietly -and without needing acknowledgement or praise- attempting to right another man’s wrongs.

He’s grinning as he approaches. Wiping dirty palms against the thighs of his shorts, swiping a forearm across his sweaty brow. “What are you smiling about?”

“Just admiring the scenery,” Esme says, and takes a sip from the bottle of beer in her hand. “And it’s very nice scenery.”

That grin widens, and he places a hand on either side of her, palms flat against the wood of the porch; bending down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And you call me biased.”

“All the women thirsting after you are proof I’m NOT biased. Cashiers at the grocery store, moms on the playground, at the school. Millie’s teacher. I hear she’s very determined when it comes to you. That she tried picking you up at the bar the other night.”

“Who told you that?”

“Ovi. Don’t underestimate his loyalty to me. He told me she was trying to jump on your dick. And that she didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.”

“I might have been a little harsh.”

“You? Harsh? Never.”

He smirks.

“He also told me that you were a good boy. That you behaved yourself.”

“You were worried I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t worried about what you’d do. Some of those women are very persuasive.”

“They can try all they want. My dick’s taken. That’s what I told her. It belongs to someone else. Yours is the only pussy it wants to be in.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “You said that? Those exact words?”

“That was loosely translated. But I did say my dick was taken and that no one other pussy can hold a candle to yours.”

“Oh God…” she lays a hand against her forehead. “...Tyler…”

“In my defence, I was pretty drunk.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you would have still said it if you’d been sober. That’s such a Tyler thing to say.”

He shrugs. “I have absolutely zero filter left.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. You’re usually a man of few words, but when you DO talk…”

“I say what I mean, and I meant what I say.”

“Exactly. This should make trips to school very interesting, to say the least.”

“Is it wrong I’m looking forward to parent/teacher interview night? Seeing her squirm? Wanna make out in front of her?”

“She’d probably enjoy that.”

“You like girls too. Is she your type?”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that. Because even if she was, I don’t cheat and I don’t share my toys. Especially my favorite one. My ALL TIME favorite. So if you’re into that kind of thing, you need a different wife.”

“Only thing...person...I’m into, is you.” He leans in and kisses her; soft and languid.

She isn’t bothered when sweat drips onto her from his forehead and hair, nor does she mind the salty taste of it on his lips. And the tip of his tongue briefly brushes against her before he pulls away, chuckling when she digs her nails into the back of his neck; pressing her lips to the underside of his chin and nuzzling her nose against his throat. 

“I probably stink,” he warns.

“You smell good. You smell like Tyler. And that’s the best smell in the world.”

He smiles at that, then runs a hand over her hair before pecking her cheek. “Longer we’re married, the sappier you get,” he teases, and then takes a seat beside her, grimacing at the discomfort in his back.

“I thought you said earlier I was getting cuddlier?” She reaches behind her for a second bottle of beer, twisting off the cap before offering it to him.

“You’re getting both,” he says, accepting the beer and pressing a kiss of appreciation to her temple. It’s his first drink since they’d arrived. After getting his first taste of it after six months of sobriety, he’d thought he’d want more. That he’d NEED it. But the longing and feelings of desperation and the ghosts of dependency have settled down. It would have been easy to fall back into his old ways; faced with the multitude of booze Koen keeps scattered around the kitchen. But it hasn’t ‘called’ to him; the burdens and baggage of addiction surprisingly silent.

“Do you not know what sunscreen is?” Esme inquires, and he hisses when she presses her ice cold bottle against the back of his neck. “You’re going to be hurting tomorrow.”

“Can’t get much worse than I’m already hurting.”

She frowns. “That bad?”

He nods and takes a large swallow of beer.

“Knee? Shoulder? Back?”

“Back mostly. The other two feel pretty good for a change.”

“You need to be more careful. Once your back goes, you’re fucked. Maybe that’s what did it,” she presses the fingertips of one hand into the most troublesome spot; left side, middle of the spine, but close to the shoulder blade. Where the sniper’s bullet in Dhaka had torn into him. “The fucking. Maybe you can’t partake in such strenuous activity anymore.”

He scowls. "You be quiet.”

“I’m just saying. You’re getting older and it would make sense if you start to slow down and your stamina starts to falter.”

“Just put a bullet in my brain. Do it. End it. Because the day I can’t do THAT…”

“What are you going to do if you ever need Viagra?” she teases, and digs her knuckles into his back. 

“You know what…?”

She grins and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “What?”

“You’re not making me feel any better. I WILL shoot myself if that ever happens. The day I can’t get it up is the day I lose all will to live.”

“Don’t be such a baby. It's not the end of the world if that happens.”

“Fuck yeah it is. “

“And you question where Millie gets her dramatics from?”

“I am serious. That ever happens, I give you permission to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery.”

“Not going to happen. You’re stuck with me. Even if you do get limp dick. I’m not letting you leave me with God knows how many grandchildren. We’re supposed to spoil them together, remember? You’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.”

“I’m too fucking stubborn to die anyway.”

“I’m starting to think that’s true.”

She traces a fingertip over the scar left behind from the sniper’s bullet; the size of a dime and no longer raised or puckered. It’s the accompanying scar that’s worse; long and thin and jagged in some areas. Where the surgeon had to open him up and go in to locate the source of internal bleeding and repair a section of his left lung. It would be easy to hate all those marks; all those parts of his body that have been damaged and torn apart. But they’re part of who he is. Testaments to just how strong and tenacious he is. Proof of his survival and how far he’s come.

“That one’s getting a lot better,” she remarks, as her fingers find the scar left behind from when Farhad had shot him, along with the one beside it; another surgical incision that had been needed to keep him alive. “It’s taken a long time.”

“Doesn’t bother you as much anymore.” It’s an observation. Not a question.

“Not really. I try not to think about the back story. And speaking of back…” her fingers glide over the multitude of deep, red gouges that travel both horizontally and vertically, some even overlapping. “...I wonder what happened here?”

Tyler smirks. “Gee. I wonder.”

“Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“Just a little,” he grins, as he leans in to kiss her. Laying a hand on her thigh, he gently spreads her legs and nods down at his own handiwork. “Sorry I bit you so hard.”

Esme grins. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“Actually, I’m not.”

She gives a derisive snort, then kisses his shoulder and leans into him; beer in one hand, the other resting on his lower back. “For the record, you need to unleash your inner lumberjack more. That was sexy to watch.”

“And you say I never do anything nice for you,” he chides.

“You’ve got the whole vibe going on. You’ve got the body, you’ve got the beard. Just need to get you a plaid shirt.”

“Fuck that. Look, I don’t mind fulfilling your little fantasies, but I have to draw the line somewhere. No plaid.”

“Fine,” she huffs dramatically. “At the very least a tight white t-shirt.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re weird?”

“Only you. Every day. For almost seven years. You put up with it though. I notice you stick around despite it.”

“I’d miss it too much. Your weirdness. You in general.”

She grins. “And you call me sappy?”

They lapse into a companionable silence. Nursing their beers as they enjoy the peace and quiet; no sound save for the faint rustling of the trees and bushes as the breeze passes through them. It’s unusual; not being surrounded by noise and activity. Their lives normally filled with chaos, even on the best days. And while they miss the normality of it -the kids voices, their bickering, the baby crying- it’s a relief to get away from it for a little while. A chance to be alone together instead of having to battle for even a sliver of attention. Days often going by before they even have a normal conversation. So caught up in being parents that they’d forgotten what it was like to need each other. And Tyler drapes an arm across her shoulders and pulls her tightly against him; lips finding her temple, her hand moving to his side.

“Allison called,” Esme says, and places her now empty beer bottle beside her. “She said she couldn’t get through to your cell.”

“Battery’s dead. I haven’t bothered to charge it.”

“Disconnecting from the world. Your dream come true,” she teases.

“What did she want?”

“I had no clue what she was talking about. She said to tell you that she’ll send someone to do a thorough search and get back to you with any news.”

He nods.

“Tyler…”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stress more.”

“Oh fuck me. What now?”

“It’s probably nothing. Which is another reason why I didn’t say anything. Why freak you out and then it turns out to be nothing?”

“Whatever it is, are the kids going to be okay? Should we have stayed home?”

“We made the right decision coming here,” he assures her. “We NEEDED to come here. And if it were something to worry about..if my instincts told me something was wrong...I would have been the first to cancel everything and insist we stay home.”

“So what is it? What do you have Allison looking into?”

“Millie saw something. SOMEONE. Or she thinks she did.”

“She told you that? That she saw someone? Where? Doing what?”

“She said she saw some lady going into the woods. That she yelled at this person to stop and she didn’t listen to her and kept going. I guess she told Ovi and he went and checked and didn’t find anything. Thinks it was probably just someone trying to get to the beach without going right on our property.”

“What do YOU think?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know what to think. It’s easy to think the worst. Especially right now. But Ovi’s probably right. Probably nothing.”

“But you believe her? Millie? You believe she saw someone?”

“She wouldn’t lie about something like that. She even gave me a good description; pretty detailed. She’s crazy smart. Too smart for her own good. And insanely observant. It’s almost scary HOW observant she is. How keen her senses are.”

“Does that sound familiar? I told you; she’s just like you. She even has your instincts. She saw the Jeep driver; same time you did. And she’s not even six yet and she’s like that?”

“I’d be impressed...and proud...if it didn’t freak me out so much.”

“She’s YOUR daughter. She has so much of you in her. I see more and more every day; you coming out in her. And that’s not a bad thing, Tyler. Think of all the amazing things she’ll be able to do when she’s older with skills like that.”

“That’s what scares me. What if she’s the one that follows in my footsteps?”

“I highly doubt Millie will grow up and want to be a mercenary. That girl loves her glitter way too much.”

He gives a small laugh.

“Can you imagine her with a pink Glock with a bejewelled grip? That would be Millie as a merc. Or she’d have a pink holster with Hello Kitty embroidered on it. THAT'S your daughter. She is not the one you have to worry about. My money is on Tanner. He’s flying under the radar; no one suspects him. I think he’s conning us all.”

“I never did get my fifteen bucks that he scammed me out of. Or should I say my seven fifty. Because I know full well you took the other half. You’re the one who put him up to it; don’t even try denying it. That had you written all over it. I’ve seen how you work. I saw you scam people in Dhaka. I heard you scam them in Ireland. You’re good.”

“It’s always the ones you least expect,” Esme reasons. “Us little ones are always the last ones anyone is ever suspicious about. But I’m not admitting to anything when it comes to Tanner.”

“He’s a momma’s boy. You could talk him into anything.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“That doesn’t work here. This is Australia. Not the States.”

“I’m not copping to anything. No matter how much you badger me about it.”

He grins. “I have ways you know. Ways of getting it out of you.”

“What are you going to do? Waterboard me? Go all Guantanamo Bay on my ass?”

“A lie detector test. A very accurate one.”

“Oh really…” her eyes playfully sparkle. “...what lie detector test?”

“It’s my own. I made it up. I developed it.”

“Sure you did…”

“All I have to do…” he leans into her, pressing a series of kisses along the left side of her neck and across her shoulder. “...is this…” he slides a hand up the leg of her shorts, then splays his finger; one coming in contact with the crotch of her panties, the other with the back. “...one finger here...one finger there…and…” he bites down on the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder.

She’s laughing as she pushes him away. “You dick! That hurt!”

“I WAS going to do this…” he removes his hand from her shorts and grabs at her inner thing.

“Ow!” She yells, then dissolves into giggles and collapses onto her back as his fingers dig and pinch and aggressively tickle. “Tyler! You shit head! Stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants! Don’t be such an asshole!”

“You gonna admit to it?” His hand hand slides down to her knee, then back up again; passing over the crotch of her pants before settling on her stomach. “That you had something to do with it?”

“Never,” she declares. “You can’t get it out of me. You’ll never make me crack.”

“Oh, I can. And I will. You’re not the only one with special skills.” He pulls up the bottom of her tank top, mouth warm and moist against as he licks a path just above the waistband of her shorts. 

“Fuck you and your special skills,” she playfully retorts, and then squeals when he sinks his teeth into the flesh at the bottom of her right ribs. “What is wrong with you?! I’m going to have marks everywhere!”

“You mean like my back?”

“I have to mark what’s mine. My territory. And your ribs are pretty torn up, too. Sorry.”

“It’s a small price to pay,” he says, and then leans to kiss her. “Hungry?”

“Mmm...hmmm…” she arches her back and presses her hips against him.

“I meant for food. And you have the nerve to call me ‘extra’ when it comes to sex lately.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my husband is insanely sexy and turns me on when he so as much looks at me. I should have married someone uglier.”

“Maybe you should have worked with Gaspar,” he teases. “Doesn’t get much uglier than that.”

“I would have throat punched him for sure. Or killed him. He was too fucking creepy and way too fucking psychotic. That story you told me? About shooting the doves? That was fucked. Doves. Of all birds. Like the hell? I can’t believe you were ever friends with that guy. You’re nothing alike. What did you ever bond over?”

“Killing people.”

“Well THAT’S healthy.”

“Drinking. I was drunk most of the time I was around him. So I wasn’t the best judge of character. Are you hungry or not?”

She nods. “I could eat.”

“We’ll cook something out here. On the fire. Sound good?”

She nods. “I’ll whip up some sides. I have to make sure you keep the tank full. I don’t want to wear you out.”

“You can try, but you never will.”

“You’ve got five years on me,” she reminds him. “I’m still a youngin' compared to you. Pretty soon people are going to start thinking you’re my father.”

“Fuck you. I don’t look THAT old.”

“Older brother, then.”

He frowns. “That’s some Jerry Springer shit.”

“An American reference! After six and a half years of being married to me, you finally used an American reference. ‘I’m so proud of you, Tyler James.”

“You know…” his fingers pull down the bottom of her tank. “You’re lucky I love you.”

She smiles and lifts her head to kiss him. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m going to go and take a shower. Wanna come with?”

“What? You need me to scrub your back?”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “Among other things.”

****

With the sun down, the temperature has dropped considerably; breeze stronger, the cooler air trapped by the mountains surrounding them. After a dinner prepared over open flame, they lounge by the fire; nothing more than a blanket spread on the ground, his legs outstretched as she sits between them with her back pressed against his chest. One of her hands in possession of a glass of wine -the now half empty bottle sitting beside her- and the other resting on the forearm he has laying across her collarbone. He’s only on his second beer of the day; still three quarters full and in no rush to finish it. It’s a good sign. He won’t be tempted to get heavily back into it in Mumbai; able to be fully engrossed and focused on the job at hand. There’s too much to lose; his entire existence, his whole world. There will be no second chances if he fucks up; he can’t afford to make any mistakes when it's his own family involved. 

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about it. Mumbai. Mahajan and all his threats. He’d told himself he’d push them all onto the back burner; he’d think of nothing but their time away together. That he’d concentrate on nothing...no one...other than her and the reconnecting that they’re so badly in need of. But when nighttime settles, the dark thoughts always return. It’s when he’s most anxious. When things are quiet and still and he suddenly has time to think; both mind and hands idle. And now he can’t stop dwelling on it. On how he leaves for India in nine days time and whether or not he’s making the right decision when it comes to the people he’s taking along. Questioning whether it’s better to have a solid and structured game plan ahead of time, or if he should just let things fall into place once he gets there; go in with nothing but that list of names and decide there and then how to dispose of them. Does he have all his ‘ducks in row’ at home; up to date life insurance policy, recent version of a will, an intricately carved out -and written out- plan on what Esme’s to do if he DOESN’T make it back? So engrossed with all the thoughts of doom and gloom, that he hadn’t even realized she was speaking to him until he feels her hand on the side of his face; that simple contact snapping him out of it, eyes not focusing on that concerned face looking at him.

“Are you alright?” she asks, and even in the glow of the campfire he can see the glassiness of her eyes and the flush to her cheeks; side effects of all the wine she’s consumed. It’s been months since she’d indulged in even a drop; cutting it out entirely once she found out she was pregnant with Addie. And the return to it is hitting her hard and fast.

“Yeah,” Tyler gives a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

He shakes his head.

“What were you thinking about? You looked really intense there for a minute. Like you were going to rip someone’s head off.”

“I must have zoned out. Wasn’t really thinking about anything. What did you say?”

“I asked if you heard back from Allison. About that woman Millie saw.”

“My phone’s inside. Charging. She’ll leave a message. Or call yours.”

“I haven't had a signal for hours.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she turns back around. “No one can bother us. Isn’t that what we want? Just get away from everything? Everyone?”

“We do have five kids at home,” she reminds him. “Someone should be able to get a hold of us if there’s an emergency.”

“Everything will be fine. No emergencies.”

“And this thing with the woman? The one Millie thinks she saw?”

“She definitely saw her. Just like she saw that guy in the Jeep. She didn’t imagine it and she’s definitely not making it up. Her description was too good and she’s adamant that she saw this person. Even got pissed when the boys suggested she was imagining things. There’s no doubt in my mind that she saw someone.”

“Do you think it’s something to worry about?”

“If I did, we wouldn’t be here right now and you know that.”

“I DO know that. I know you’d stop at nothing to keep them safe...to keep us ALL safe...if you thought there was a legitimate threat. It just sucks that we even think about things like this.”

“Yeah, it does. But that’s what you get for getting mixed up with me.”

“Don’t start. I knew what I was getting into it. I knew what kind of life you were living and all the toes you’d stepped on along the way. It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to be with you. I can handle whatever comes with it. With you.”

“YOU can. But what about our kids? We probably should have thought about that beforehand.”

“It was too late to think about anything. Millie was on her way; whether we were prepared or not. And regardless of what you did...what you DO...for a living, you deserve to have a life. You deserve to be happy and be surrounded by people who love you and need you and want you around. I know you don’t think you deserve all of that, but you do. More than anyone else deserves it.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her temples and then takes a swallow of beer.

“And I know you sometimes think it's selfish; for getting married and having kids and bringing all of us into a life like this. But it’s not. You’re not a selfish person, Tyler. You’re selfless, if anything. You always have been.”

“You think pretty highly of me,” he teases.

“I do. I’m pretty fond of you, actually. I’m going to keep you. My life would suck if you weren’t in it. Do you remember our old apartment?”

“Just outside of Sydney. Yep. How could I forget that place? First time I’d lived with someone in five years. If you can call it living with someone; I was only there on weekends when I was allowed home from the rehab place.”

“I kind of miss that apartment,” she muses. “It wasn’t much, but it was ours. Even if we had to sleep on a mattress on the floor for six months. We didn’t have a lot, but we were happy there. YOU were happy. Even when you were in all that pain and you were exhausted and frustrated with all the therapies and the progress you didn’t think you were making. You never once bitched or moaned or felt sorry for yourself. You were never miserable. You were just happy.”

“You’re saying I’m not happy now?”

“No. I know you are. I see it every time you’re with your kids. It’s just that you were going through so much...you’d just BEEN through so much...and you never let it break you.”

“I couldn’t let it break me. I had you. We had a baby on the way. You both needed me. I HAD to keep going. For the two of you.”

“Remember the first night we brought Millie home? And she cried. A lot.”

“She cried all night,” Tyler recalls. “So did you. I think you cried more than she did. I had two crying women to deal with.”

“I was so frustrated and exhausted and depressed and scared. I was terrified of being a shitty mom. And you were so good with her. With both of us. I remember how you walked the apartment with her for hours. Just holding er and rubbing her back and talking to her; your voice was so soft and so calm and you were so patient. I watched you with her and I swear I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You with a baby. OUR baby. I didn’t think I could love any more than I already did, and then I watched you being a dad.”

He brushes the tip of his nose against her ear, then kisses it. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m sentimental. I can’t help it. Being here with you...ALONE with you...it has me all up in my feels. We’ve never gotten this; this time together. Even when we were in Ireland, it was never about us. It was about the job. This is the first time in nearly seven years where it’s just me and you. And I like it. Being this way with you.”

“So do I. We needed this.”

“We did,” she agrees. “Sometimes it feels as if we don’t exist outside of being parents and raising kids together. Like we’ve completely forgotten about each other and what’s like to be an actual couple. Not just a mom and dad. And I’ve missed seeing you like that. As more than that.”

“I missed that too. I’ve missed you.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her, forearm sliding further up onto her neck. “I’ve missed US.”

“Things are so much better now. Since we moved here. Being in Colorado was nice, but being here is better. You’re different when you’re here. You’re not as stressed; not on edge so much. You’re more relaxed. Grounded, I guess. You’re in your happy place.”

“Well it’s home,” Tyler reasons. “I just needed someone to MAKE it a home with.”

She smiles and turns her face into his, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You can be really sweet and cute, you know that?”

“Don’t you start.”

“It’s true,” she laughs, and then pecks his cheek before turning to face the fire once more. “I don’t care how much you hate hearing it. It doesn’t make you soft or weak or less of a man for being like that. Far from it. It actually makes you even more attractive. And sexy. That you can be like this with me. That you’re not afraid to be emotional or sentimental. Or vulnerable.”

“You’re the only person I CAN be that way with.”

“I’m lucky. I get all these different sides of you that no one else gets to see. It’s like hiding this huge secret from the rest of the world. One that they’ll never, ever, figure out. You’re a mystery to everyone else. I’m the only one who really knows you.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “You are.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise I won’t tell anyone that you cry during Fox and the Hound and Inside Out. I know you have a reputation to uphold.”

He grins. “What reputation is that?”

“The guy that took out a whole apartment of hostiles in Dhaka. Who humiliated Amir Asif. Who took a bullet to the neck AND lived. You really ARE too stubborn to die.”

“Or I’m just lucky.”

“Maybe some of both?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it has something to do with someone putting their fingers in my neck to keep me alive AFTER I got shot.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Esme says. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same thing. You wouldn't have left me on that bridge.”

“Not in a million years.”

“I almost thought you were going to leave me the first day, though. When I pissed you off in the market. You were so mad. I thought for sure you were going to dump my ass in the street somewhere. I don’t think I’ve seen you that angry since. Except for that time that weird guy followed me home from the post office because he wanted to ask me out and didn’t believe me when I told him I was married.”

“I could have killed that fucking guy.”

“You were so pissed! ” she recalls. “I thought he was going to shit his pants when you walked out of the house. He wasn’t expecting there to even be a husband, never mind one that looks like you. And then he tried to get all macho and mouthy and actually thought he could take you. You only had like six inches and fifty pounds on him.”

Tyler smirks. “Wasn’t much of a fight.”

“It was two hits. You hitting him, and him hitting the ground. My hero,” she presses a kiss to his forearm. “My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” she smiles. “And just so you know, I’d fight a bear for you.”

“You would, would you?”

“Maybe not a black bear or a polar bear or a grizzly. And maybe not a koala because they’re sketchy as fuck. But a Care Bear. I’d fight a Care Bear for you.”

He laughs at that, and she’s giggling when she turns her face into his and kisses him. Nails digging into his forearm through the fabric of his hoodie, her tongue gentle yet insistent as it pushes its way past his lips and teeth; his hand moving up to cup her cheek. “I’ve got something for you.” he says.

“My other surprise?”

He nods. 

“And this one is definitely from you? Not the kids?”

“Just from me.”

“It’s not even my birthday. Or our anniversary. And Christmas was only two months ago and we’re past Valentine’s Day. So what’s it for?”

“It’s not for anything. It's a ‘just because’ kind of surprise.”

“Just because what?”

“Just because I felt like it. And because I love you.”

She grins. “And you say you’re not sappy.”

“Here,” he digs into one of the pockets on his hoodie and pulls out a small black velvet box, offering it to her.

Her eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do? I didn’t do anything. I wanted to buy you something so I bought you something.”

“Just because?”

“Yep. Just because.”

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“What is this?”

“Just take it. It’s yours. Just open it.”

“I’m kind of scared to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve done something you didn’t have to do and I’m going to get all emotional and up in my feels and you hate when I get all up in my feels and ugly cry.”

He smirks. “If it happens, I’ll deal with it. Just open it.”

“Okay…” she takes the box from him, turning her body sideways and draping both legs over his thigh. “AM I going to cry?”

“Knowing you? Probably.”

“You’re trouble. Making me cry.”

“It’ll be a good cry. I promise.”

“Alright…” she says, and then pops open the lid of the box, tears immediately glistening in her eyes; lower lip trembling as she looks from the ring nestled inside, to him, then back down again.

It isn’t over the top of outlandish; something simple and classic for a woman that’s never cared about the materialistic things in life. Who was happy in that small apartment outside of Sydney and who would have been just as happy in a shack in the outback. But the solitaire diamond sparkles brilliantly in the glow cast by the fire, as does the rose gold band it’s set in. 

“You like it?” he asks.

She nods, and he presses a kiss to her forehead and uses a thumb to clear the tears off her cheeks. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes. “YOU’RE beautiful. Why…?”

“Millie asked why you didn’t have one. She said you guys watched some wedding show on tv and that all the ladies have engagement rings and why didn’t you have one?”

“She’s pretty observant that daughter of yours. Did you tell her that I never expected one or asked for one or really wanted one?”

“I told her that when we got married, we didn’t have a lot of money and you said you didn’t care about things like diamonds and fancy shit. That you were happy with just a wedding band.”

“Which is true. I’ve always been happy with just that.”

“I know. But she asked why we’d been married forever and you still didn’t have one. So I figured I better get my shit together and show my daughter that I’m not some douche that doesn’t love her mother.”

“I don’t need a ring to know you love me. You find ways to let me know you do. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. It shouldn’t have taken me six and a half years.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if it took you sixty,” Esme says. “And it’s beautiful and it’s perfect and you’re beautiful and perfect and I don’t deserve it. Or you.”

“Now you’re just talking shit. You deserve more than that. More than me.”

“Now YOU’RE talking shit,” she counters.

“How about we don’t talk shit about ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Here..” he takes the box from her, setting it on his thigh and then plucking the ring from its confines. “...hand.”

She grins. “You’re so romantic. There’s the Tyler I know and love. Did you tell your daughter you asked me to marry you in the bathroom?”

“I did actually.” He slips the ring onto her finger and then presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I told her you were pregnant with her and that you were worried you were getting fat and ugly. That I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I said ‘marry me’ and that was it. There was never really a question.”

“It was a very Tyler like way of asking though. And I said ‘okay’, so technically, it WAS a proposal. In our own weird way.”

“Weird seems to be our thing.”

“I prefer unconventional,” she says, then kneels between his legs. “We’re unconventional. Not weird. We’ve never been normal, per say. We started out in a very unconventional way and we’ve kept it going ever since. Maybe that’s what makes us so good together. We don’t expect normal from each other.”

His hands settle on her hips. “Maybe.”

“I mean, I married a mercenary. That’s about as far from normal as you can get.”

“You had your chance, you know. To get away. You could have said no.”

“Your eyes and your ass were way too nice to say no to.”

He grins.

“And I don’t care what you did...or do...for a living,” she declares, his face cradled in her hands as she kisses him softly. “I would have said yes a million times over.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: profanity

Every sound is amplified when you’re on the verge of sleep. The skipping of leaves and stone as the wind blows them across the front porch and drive. The slow yet incessant dripping of the kitchen tap. The rattling of the old and rusted window air conditioner that does little to cool even the smallest of rooms. It’s a struggle tonight; body and mind attempting to coexist long enough to let him rest. Every one of his senses are on high alert; hypervigilance strong and unrelenting. All thoughts of Mahajan and his people and the very real and dangerous threat they possess returning the second silence descended on the shack. The moment he felt his wife’s body relax against his and heard her breathing become slow and shallow; drifting off on her stomach with an arm draped across his chest and her head nestled in the crook of his elbow. So beautiful and perfect with the moonlight streaming through the curtains, bathing her smooth, silky skin in a pale, silvery glow. Content and satisfied after two rounds of intense love making. Beginning outside where they’d been relaxing by the fire, ending just inside the front door when wandering hands and greedy kisses made it impossible to get any further. She’d been both yawning and giggling when he’d carried her to bed; laughing as he dumped her unceremoniously into the middle of it. And they’d spent the next hour engaging in quiet pillow talk and sharing long, slow, sleepy kisses.

He’d thought he’d fall asleep soon after her; their vigorous activities, a day spent in the sun, and the handful of pain meds he’d taken should have guaranteed at least a few hours. But it’s shortly before one in the morning and he’s only now beginning to feel groggy. Managing to fight back the worries and the thoughts that plague him and clutter his already damaged and weary mind and feeling that warmth that flows through him as relaxation finally kicks in. The meds are at last doing their job; taking the edge of and numbing his brain enough that it agrees to let him rest. His own breathing slowing down and levelling out, eyes beginning to close. 

Until the sound of his cell phone vibrating against the nightstand tears him from the brink of sleep; all the failed notifications that three hours without a signal had held back now coming all at once. And he rolls onto his side and reaches for the offending object, momentarily forgetting about the bad arm as he attempts to prop himself up on his hand. The shoulder immediately gives way, causing him to groan and wince and a litany of profanities to spill from his mouth. The pain is intense; tightening every muscle and tendon, causing sweat to bead on his forehead and form at his temples, nausea to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck...” Tyler manages through gritted teeth, blindly reaching for his cell. And he waits for the worst of it to subside before opening his eyes; the glow of the screen seeming unusually bright and almost painful as he checks the notifications. Relieved to see that none of the calls or texts have come from home; most unknown and private numbers and a couple dozen texts from Nik and Yaz. 

He doesn’t bother to read them, or to check any of the voicemails that have been left; both can wait until the morning. Instead he tosses the phone back onto the table and moves onto his left side. Sliding closer to his wife and pressing a kiss to her shoulder before draping an arm over her back and resting his cheek against the pillow they both share; eyes closing as he breathes in the soft trace of shampoo that lingers in his hair. The nagging pain in his right arm will make it difficult to sleep. Once it’s tweaked everything goes to hell; agony burrowing straight into the bone, the muscles surrounding the shoulder blade itself twitching, numbness spreading all the way down to his fingers. But at least it’s a distraction; pain keeping him from thoughts of Mahajan and his threats and giving him something else to concentrate on.

He’s unsure of how much time has passed before his phone erupts once more. This in the form of several text messages sent in rapid succession, followed by the much longer and incessant vibration of a call coming through.

“What the fuck…” he groans, and yanks the blankets up past his shoulders, attempting to ignore the racket coming from the bedside. Unless it involves his wife or his kids, nothing is THAT important. And with Esme still sleeping soundly beside him and knowing for certain that the calls are NOT coming from home, there’s no rush to answer.

No sooner does it stop, it starts up again. And Esme raises her head from the pillow; eyes half open, her falling over her face.

“Tyler…” she grumbles. “...answer your goddamn phone. It’s driving me crazy. Or turn it off completely.”

“If I turn it off and you don’t have a signal, how is Ovi supposed to get a hold of us if he needs to?”

“Well do something with it. Please? Before I throw out the window or flush it down the toilet.”

“Just ignore it.” He slides a hand through her hair, then lays his palm on the back of her head; a gentle push encouraging her to lie back down. “It’s not important.”

“It must be if they keep texting and calling. Maybe it IS Ovi.”

“It’s not. Put your head down. Close your eyes.”

“Maybe it’s about your dad.”

“It’s not about him either. Just go back to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep when that…” she jerks her head in the direction of the cell that once more comes to life. “...keeps happening. At least tell whoever it is to fuck off.”

“It’s Yaz. He’s been trying to get a hold of me a few hours.”

“Well tell Yaz to fuck off and to call when the sun is up. Why would he call you so much? Maybe something’s wrong.”

“With who?”

“Nik.”

“And I care why?”

She groans loudly and dramatically and then drops her forehead onto his shoulder. “Please answer it. I can’t take much more of that.”

He relents. Sitting up in bed and running a hand through his hair and over his face before reaching for his cell. Scowling when he reads the last text that he’s been sent.

“What’s wrong?” Esme asks. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” he replies, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to her lips before tossing off the blankets and gingerly climbing out of bed; grimacing at the both the pain and the tightness in both his knee and back.

“What’s going on?” Both her voice and face are concerned as she sits up, gathering one of the blankets to her chest, covering her nakedness. Frowning as she watches him as he snags a pair of sweat out of one of the duffle bags and steps into them. “Tyler...what…?”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and heads for the door.

****

He’s already off the porch and heading for the car before Yaz even manages to kill the engine, dirt and stone rough against the bottom of his bare feet. There’s an unusual chill in the air; carried by the strong breeze and causing him to shiver and bring his arms across his chest, hands rubbing at his shoulders. He ignores the small wave and awkward, nervous smile that his old friend gives him as he approaches; scowl never leaving his face, his stride angry and purposeful. And he waits until Yaz turns off the car and attempts to climb out from behind the wheel before reacting. Laying a palm against the window and slamming the door closed; holding it tightly shut.

“What the fuck?” Yaz’ voice is muffled behind the glass. And when he realizes Tyler isn’t surrendering, he heaves a deep, heavy sigh and turns the ignition on once more, using a button on the door to put down the window. “What’s your issue?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What the do you mean what am I doing here? Did you not read any of my texts?”

“I read the last one. About not comin’ out shooting.”

“Glad to see you paid attention to THAT one,” Yaz’ eyes narrow as he regards the Glock tucked in the waistband of Tyler’s sweats. “Sort of.”

“It’s not for you. I don’t know who the fuck might be watching and I’m not taking any chances. What do you want? I don’t want to be standing out here putting up with this bullshit. I’ve already had one sniper put one in my back. I don’t need another cutting me down.”

“I’m here to talk. If you read my texts, you’d know that.”

“How’d you even know we were here?”

“If you read my texts…”

“Yaz, I’m not in the fucking mood. I’ve got Mahajan and his people down my neck, I’ve got a massive target on my back, and a huge bounty on my head. What do you want?”

“To help. I want to help. So does Nik. If you let me out, we could go inside and talk. Look man, I know we didn’t end things on good terms. I didn’t take it well when you just up and abandoned us like you did.”

“I left for my family. Because I would have been no good to them if I had a mental breakdown. Or if I ended up dead because I couldn’t do the job right. Just because you took it personally like I dumped you at the prom for a different date…”

“I know, I know,” Yaz sighs. “I DID take it personally. But I was relying on you and you left me with guys I didn’t even know. Guys who’d never done shit like that before and I was expected to just blindly trust them. I needed you to get shit done, and you bailed. Talk about throwing someone to the goddamn wolves. You just tossed me into that shit.”

“I did what I had to do,” Tyler insists. “For my family.”

“Remember when we were family?” Yaz counters. “Before Esme came along? WE were family. You always had my back and I always had yours. And then you did what you did. You didn’t even give me a chance to prepare a new game plan. You just left. And I could have left you too. Back on the bridge in Dhaka. When Nik didn’t want to go back for you. I could have left you there. But I didn’t.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “That’s a low blow. Bringing up Dhaka. That’s real fucking low.”

“It’s the truth and you know it. I could have said ‘fuck you, Rake’ and left you there. Left Esme too. But I didn’t. And you wouldn’t have the life you do if I had.”

Sighing heavily, Tyler shakes his head and glances towards the shack just as the light in the bedroom area switches on. Watching as the curtains move; being pulled away from the frame of the window, his wife’s worried and curious face peeking out.

“I want to help.” Yaz says. “So does Nik.”

“Help with what?”

“Let me out and we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything. I’m not here to cause problems. Just to talk.”

“Fine.” Tyler removes his hand from the window and takes a step back. “Guess that’s what I get for not locking the gate before lights out. The likes of you showing up on my doorstep.”

Yaz grins. “You missed me. Don’t deny it. Your life hasn’t been the same without me in it.”

“You’re right. It’s been better.”

“You’ve always been such a sweet talker,” Yaz chides, climbing out of the car and using his hip to shut the door. He embraces Tyler warmly, then holds him out at arms length and eyes him from head to toe. “Jesus Christ…” he squeezes shoulders and biceps. “...you’re fucking huge. Like a goddamn brick wall. Even bigger than the last time I saw you. And what’s this?” He reaches up and tousles Tyler’s hair. “...going back to the old flow, huh?”

“Esme likes it that way. Happy wife, happy life, yeah?”

“You look good. Damn good. How you been holding up?”

“Been doing good. Can’t complain.” 

There’s just too much to get into. And the last thing he wants to talk about -or burden anyone with- is the ongoing battle with PTSD and depression and everything that comes with the two. Both an increased dose of existing meds and a new one entirely have been keeping things at bay, but when his stress level rises or worry sets in or his brain decides to head to the dark, troublesome place, he tends to spiral. Anxiety increasing, nightmares returning, insomnia making a comeback. He’s been slipping since the news of Mahajan and his threats, and it’s been a struggle trying to keep a tight grasp on his sanity and be the strong and stoic one. If he falls apart, his family is doomed. They need him to keep his shit together. 

Their lives depend on it.

“How’s the baby?” Yaz asks. “Another girl, right? I called that one. Said you were due for another girl,”

“Another girl,” Tyler confirms, as they head for the shack. “Adeline. After my mom. We call her Addie. Just a tiny thing. Dark hair, dark eyes.”

“Sounds like her mom.”

“Just like her. About time, I guess. First four look nothing like her.”

“Momma deserves to see her eyes looking up at her,” Yaz reasons. “And the rest of them are okay? They like living down here? Turning into proper Aussies?”

“I don’t know what it would mean to be a proper Aussie, but their accents are coming in pretty good. They love it here; love living by the water. They’re out there every chance they get. And they’re happier here. WE’RE happier here. Last couple of weeks have been a bit shit, but…” he shrugs, then pauses before stepping up onto the front porch. “What are you doing here, Yaz? What are WE doing? All this small talk shit. You’re not showing at one in the morning to ask me about my kids. What the hell’s going on? Is it that important it couldn’t wait until daylight?”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for three weeks. Ever since you dropped the bomb about getting back into the job. Starting your own merc business.”

“THAT’S what you’re here for? To get on my ass about it? Defend your sister’s honor ‘cause she feels I fucked her over? You come all this way...at one in the morning...for that?”

“I’m here because I want to help. So does Nik.”

“Help with that?”

“Word travels fast in the game. We know all about it. Mahajan, the threats against you and Esme and the kids. We know what’s been said; how sick and twisted it all is. How fucked up it is. And we want to help Any way we can.”

“I’ve already to shit sorted out,” Tyler says. “I’ve already made arrangements. On how to deal with things.”

“I figured as much. Doesn’t mean we can’t help, though.”

“I don’t know what you think you can do. What either of you could do.”

“Nik’s got connections. Powerful ones. And we’ve got resources you can use. We’ve got tech, we’ve got transportation, we’ve got weapons…”

“I’ve got enough of those. I don’t need any more. Not right now, anyway.”

“Just hear me out,” Yaz implores. “Let’s go inside and talk about it. The more people you got the better, right? And it’s not like we’re rookies. We’ve got experience. And we’ve got good people...damn good people...working for us. Just hear me out. That’s all I ask.”

Tyler shakes his head. “You do not want to get mixed up in this.”

“Yeah, I do. Because it’s you. Because it’s you and it’s your family and we were tight for a long time. You don’t have to deal with this bullshit alone. You got a lot of people wanting to help out. That have your back. Let them help. Swallow your fucking pride and take what’s offered. Now is not the time for your ego to get in the way.”

Both men look towards the screen door as it creaks open; Esme giving a sheepish, apologetic smile as she steps out onto the porch in a pair of leggings and one of Tyler’s hoodies, drawing the latter tightly across her body.

“Everything okay?” she asks. “Is Nik alright? Nothing’s happened to her, has it?”

“She’s fine. Everything’s good,” Yaz replies, as he steps up onto the porch and wraps her in a tight hug and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You good? Still putting up with this guy huh? Thought by now you’d be tired of his shit.”

“More like he’s still putting up with me. He’s not as difficult to live with as everyone seems to think he is.”

“You can tell me the real deal when we're alone,” Yaz says. “I know you’re just trying to spare his feelings.”

“She doesn’t spare them any other time,” Tyler jokes, as he steps onto the porch. “Why would she start now?”

“I’m not THAT bad,” she laughs. “If I was THAT bad, you wouldn’t have stuck around this long. You would have seen what kind of shit show I am the first week in and said ‘fuck this’ and took off. You just like to act like you have it bad. Trust me…” she addresses Yaz now. “...this man is spoiled. And then some.”

“You don’t need to talking to Yaz about our sex life,” Tyler chides, giving a small chuckle when she elbows in the ribs. He lays a hand on the back of her neck, squeezing lightly and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You two are still all loved up on each other?” Yaz grimaces. “What the fuck? Shouldn’t you hate each other by now? Haven’t you been married for...I don’t know...forever? Isn’t this usually when you start sleeping in separate rooms? Not going on a second honeymoon or whatever you’ve got going on here?”

“That’s EXACTLY what’s going on here,” Esme says. “Or was, anyway. What are you doing here? If nothing’s wrong, why are you showing up at one in the morning? And how did you even know we were?”

“Showed up at your place first. Ovi told me where to find you guys. Hopped on the first plane I could catch, rented a car, drove out here. This place is NOT easy to find when you’re driving. I’m used to flying into here. You know, this all could have been avoided if someone had called me back three weeks ago. Or bothered to check all his voice mails and texts. I wouldn't have had to interrupt you guys. Especially at this time of night.”

“It couldn’t have waited until morning at least?” Esme asks. “I mean, it’s one am.”

“Better to get this going sooner than later. Three weeks have already been wasted and this isn’t something that needs to get any more out of hand. Better not to give trouble a chance to get here first.”

“He knows about Mahajan,” Tyler tells her. “About the threats. About everything.”

Esme sighs, then nods slowly. “I’m going to go and put some coffee on. Something tells me this is going to be a long night.”

“We’ll be right in,” Tyler says, and then gives her neck a kiss and pecks her cheek before she steps inside. Watching through the screen door; waiting until she reaches the kitchen before turning back to Yaz. “She doesn’t know how bad the threats actually are. About what was said about me and the kids; just how fucking sick and twisted it is. I’d rather keep it that way. There’s some things she doesn’t need to know.”

“Of course,” Yaz agrees. “I don’t want to make things worse. Especially for her. I just want to help. That’s it.”

“I don’t know if you can, mate. This is pretty fucked up shit.”

“Listen,” Yaz clamps a hand down on his shoulder. “Lots of people have your back.No one is going to let you guys go through this alone. We’ll get these assholes. And we’ll make them pay.”

Tyler nods, then opens the screen door and follows his friend inside.

****

“Word travels fast,” Esme comments, mug of tea in hand as she slides into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“Always does,” Yaz says, as he dumps two spoons of sugar into black coffee and stirs it vigorously. “Surviving Dhaka made this guy a legend,” he nods in Tyler’s direction. “Already had quite the rep going into Bangladesh; coming out of it alive just elevated it. Taking a bullet to the neck like that and living to tell about it? That’s the shit legends are made of.”

Tyler noisily clears his throat and shifts uncomfortable in his chair. The entire subject is unnerving. Dhaka. Farhad shooting him. The undeserving praise from strangers. He’s not the first merc to miraculously survive something that should have rightfully killed him, and he won’t be the last. He doesn’t understand it; being put up on a pedestal for simply getting the job done. And he doesn’t want or need that kind of attention. 

“When the word got around about Mahajan having Tyler in his cross hairs, it caught a lot of attention,” Yaz continues. “Pissed a lot of people off. All kinds of guys are jumping at the bit to help out; wanting a piece of Mahajan for themselves.”

“How did it even get out in the first place?” Esme inquires, as she runs her palms along the sides of the mug. “Allison said she had a ‘working relationship’ with Nik, but I didn’t think your sister would be the type to spread it around. I thought this was all supposed to be kept quiet. That’s what Neysa wanted. So Mahajan would know that people have caught onto him.”

“Only takes one person to start things off.” Yaz reasons. “And it wasn’t Nik. She wouldn’t do that. So someone connected to Allison and her business must have opened their mouths to the right people.”

“Or the wrong people,” Tyler remarks, using his thumb to absentmindedly twirl his wedding band around on his finger. It’s an anxious habit; one he resorts to when the rage begins to build and he is struggling to contain it. 

His shoulders are tense; leg alternating between shaking back and forth and bouncing up and down. Eyes dark and intense; focused on nothing in particular as they stare across the shake and out into the night. Esme’s seen this behaviour before; a precursor to an anxiety attack or a manic episode brought on by the PTSD. It doesn’t happen as often anymore, both subsiding -or a least lessening in intensity- since moving to Australia. He’s learned to recognize the triggers; knows what situations to avoid before things progress. It had been inevitable. All the worry and the stress that’s been weighing heavily on his mind since news of Mahajan and his threats was dropped on them. And she tries not to draw attention to his mood or behaviour; simply stretching one of her legs out under the table and resting her foot on the leg that’s shaking. The immediate contact causes it to still. That small, unimposing weight snapping him out of his daze. Face softening and shoulders slightly relaxing; a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes focus on her and he lays one of his hands on top of her foot.

“Depends how you look at it,” Yaz shrugs. “In your case, it’s bringing out all the good people. Lots of them want to help you out; keep you all safe. I don’t think you get just how respected you are. Not just for surviving that shit in Dhaka, but still sticking to the job and getting the kid out even after you knew there was no money. You could have easily said ‘fuck the kid’ and just saved your own ass.”

“It wasn’t just the kid I was worried about,” Tyler says. “He wasn’t the only one I had to get out of there.”

“A lot of guys really look up to you because of that. For still putting your ass on the line even though there was no payout coming.”

“And even more probably think I’m a fucking idiot for doing what I did. What’s your point, Yaz? That I’m the charity case that everyone wants to help out? Everyone wants to help out the guy with the PTSD and the fucked up brain and the fucked up body? I don’t need their help. I can take care of my own family.”

“I don’t think anyone thinks that,” Esme says. “No one thinks you’re a charity case. I think they just want to help. Because they respect you and you’ve already been through so much and now it’s personal because it IS your family being threatened. No one sees you that way, Tyler.”

“You don’t know that,” he argues.

“I DO know that. They don’t want to help because they feel sorry for you. What’s there to feel sorry for?”

“I don’t know, Esme. You live with me. You know how fucked up I am. I’m sure everyone knows that.”

“People want to help because it IS you,” Yaz says. “Not because of how you ended up because of Dhaka, but how you ended up in spite of it. You’ve got this amazing life. You’ve got what so many of them want. You’ve got a wife and kids and some shred of normalcy. You could have easily died that day, but you didn’t. You survived and you fought your back and they respect that. They respect YOU. This isn’t about charity. It’s about respect. So swallow your pride and accept it. Accept what people are offering you.”

“We could use all the help we can get,” Esme gently reasons. She knows how his mind works when he’s in this kind of state. If she doesn’t handle things cautiously, his brain will convince him that they’re ganging up on him; launching a personal attack. And that will trigger his fight or flight response. And he always chooses fight. “You said it yourself; Mahajan is powerful and he can afford the best people. Shouldn’t we have the best people too? It only makes sense, right?”

“Too many people will fuck up things,” Tyler counters. “The ass end won’t know what the front is doing. And that’s when things go wrong and I can’t afford things going wrong. I can’t. Not when it’s you and the kids involved. I can’t take the chance that someone else's mistake will ruin my entire life.”

“But you know what kind of work Yaz and Nik do. You know their track records are excellent. You can’t deny that.”

“What about Dhaka?” he asks. “You saw the file. You read everything. You saw what she wrote. What she left out. Dhaka was one huge fuck up after another and all of a sudden you’re on Nik’s team? She was going to leave us on that bridge. She knew what Asif would do to you if his guys got a hold of you and she didn’t even give a shit. She wasn’t going to come back for us. I don’t give a shit what her reasons were; she was going to leave us both there to die. And I’m supposed to trust someone that did that?”

“Dhaka WAS a mess,” Yaz agrees.

“You think? It was a big fucking mess.”

“Which could have been avoided if you’d left the kid when Nik told you to,” Yaz says. “She told you to leave him behind. Had you done that…”

“I wasn’t leaving the kid in the fucking street. He was fourteen years old. A terrified kid that pissed his pants when I showed to get him out of that apartment. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to dump his ass somewhere to die. I’m not a goddamn psychopath.”

“Okay, let’s just calm down,” Esme suggests. “No one is calling you that or thinking that. If we all just stay calm…”

“It would have made things easier,” Yaz points out. “Without the kid, you two would have been able to get to the bridge that night and we could have gotten you both the hell out of there. None of the other bullshit would have happened. Everything that went down on the bridge? That never would have happened. You never would have gotten shot in the neck and you never would have been in the hospital for months or went through all that rehab or…”

“I would rather get shot in the fucking neck than leave a kid in the street to die,” Tyler retorts. “And because I didn’t throw him away like trash, your sister thought it was okay to leave us on the bridge? She thought it was okay that Asif would have gotten a hold of Esme and done all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her BEFORE killing her? That’s all okay to her because I didn’t leave a kid to die? Fuck her. And fuck you too for ever bring this shit up.”

“Can we just all please relax?” Esme pipes up. “This isn’t what Yaz came here for. We don’t need to fight about this. About Dhaka. It was seven years ago and it was a shit show and it sucked and it screwed us both up. We’re probably always going to be screwed up in some way because of it. But fighting over it solves nothing. It won’t change what happened and it definitely doesn’t help with what’s going on right now. Can we concentrate on that? On right now and Mahajan and all his bullshit. Because that’s the present and it’s very scary and I’ve got five little kids that he’s threatening and if anything happens to my kids…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...if anything happens to them, my life would be done. I’d never get over losing them. So can we please just shut the fuck about Dhaka?”

Yaz gives an apologetic smile and holds his hands up in surrender. “I get it. It’s a touchy subject. You guys have been through a lot; been going through it right from the start. It wasn’t my intention to bring it up and ruffle feathers or hurt feelings.”

“Fuck you, Yaz,” Tyler snarls. “Hurting my feelings? Fuck you.”

“Please…” Esme pleads. “...enough. This isn’t a good time to talk about this. It’s NEVER a good time for it. We have more important things to think about. Can we all agree on that? Can we all agree NOT to talk about Dhaka? Because nothing good ever comes of talking about that place. Please…” she digs her toes into Tyler’s stomach. “...can we concentrate on what is going right now? Because I’m worried and I’m scared and I don’t want to lose my kids. Or you. At least hear Yaz out. Can you do that? For me?”

His face and his eyes soften as he relents. And he gives a nod and a small, tight lipped smile. “What do you want to do?” he asks, directing the question at Yaz.

“It’s not about what WE want to do. It’s about what YOU want us to do, What you NEED us to do. Say the word, brother. Say the word and I get it done. Simple as that. We’re in. Nik and I, the rest of the team. We’re clearing the board for this; no other jobs. And before you ask, because I know you’re going to, we don’t want any money for this. It’s not about a pay day. It’s just about you guys out. That’s it.”

Tyler sighs and runs a palm over his face, then leans back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “We could use tech. Radios, ear pieces, SATs. All of that. We don’t have nearly enough of that stuff and it hasn’t been easy to find.”

“We’ve got you covered,” Yaz assures him. “We’ll worry about that stuff. You’re going to need someone to man things; behind the scenes. Someone that can monitor the satellites and the radios. You got anyone in mind?”

“Depends,” Tyler grins. “Can you clear your schedule?”

“I can do anything for you, you know that.”

“We’re pretty much going into Mumbai blind,” Tyler admits. “Nothing more than the kid to translate for us. Having you running shit behind the scenes would be a huge plus.”

“I’ve got you. No worries there. I’ll bring my people with me. There’ll be three techies plus myself. Should be enough?”

Tyler nods.

“You need any extra mercs or..,.”

“We’re fine there. We get too many out there at once, it’ll only screw things up. If I need anyone extra WHEN we get there…”

“All you gotta do is ask,” Yaz finishes for her. 

“You think you could check a couple things out for me ahead of time? I need some things looked into.”

Yaz nods.

“I need plans. For the Mumbai prison. Where Mahajan is. Aerial photos, blueprints, whatever you can get your hands on. And I need you to look into the Grand Hyatt Hotel. It has residences in it and apparently a couple of the guys I’m after live there. I need to know how to get in and get out. Quickly. I need to know where the security cameras are, emergency exits, stairwells, where I get the best shot from if I need to take it from outside. Everything you can possibly find out about the place. Can you handle it?”

“Can I handle it?” Yaz scoffs, already typing the information into his phones. “Have we met? Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. At least not right now. I’ll message you with anything else.”

Yaz grins. “And NOW he’s going to use his phone.” He taps the toe of his shoe against Esme’s shin. “How the hell do you put up with this guy? Seriously. How are you not batshit insane yet?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not already there yet,” she playfully retorts.

“You know, when I stopped by your place and Ovi told about this whole Mumbai thing, I thought ‘that crazy bastard hasn’t changed a bit’,” Yaz admits. “I thought ‘he has no goddamn clue what he’s walking into.’ And then I realized you do. You know exactly what you’re doing and getting yourself mixed up in. And it shouldn’t surprise me; that you’re doing this. No matter how insane it sounds.”

“It’s the way it has to be done,” Tyler says. “I have to do this before they can get to my family. I can’t afford any fuck ups, Yaz. Not when it’s my wife and kids’ lives on the line. I just can’t.”

“It’ll all get taken care of. Those bastards will get what’s coming to them. You gonna do away with Mahajan?”

“That’s the plan. We’re saving him for last. I’ve got a guy on that. He’s got his own score to settle; deserves to be one that takes him out.”

“Saju’s brother, right?”

Tyler nods.

“Shame that guy died. I would have loved to bring him onboard. Would have made a great merc. Could have given you a run for your money, that’s for sure.”

“He DID. He was a tough bastard. Way tougher than I thought he’d be.”

‘He probably thought the same thing about you,” Yaz chuckles. “You don’t go down easy, that’s for sure. I’ll start on this stuff tomorrow; soon as the sun is up. Get a head start. When do we leave.”

“Nine days. Think you can arrange transport?”

“Again the with the dumb ass questions! Of course I can. Nothing I CAN’T arrange. But for now…” he downs the last of his coffee. “...I have to get back to Broome. Siobhan doesn’t like to be alone for too long in strange places. Especially now that she’s five months.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “Excuse me, what? Five months? As in five months pregnant?”

Yaz nods, a proud smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh my God!” Esme is on her feet, rushing to his side, embracing him as he stands. “This is amazing! I didn’t know you two were still together, let alone having a baby.”

“Well you would have known, had this asshole…” he nods at Tyler. “...called me back three weeks ago or at least checked his voice mail or his goddamn text messages.”

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” Esme gushes. “You were always so good with our kids. They always loved when Uncle Yaz came around. If you’re staying in Australia for a bit…”

“Going to stick around until Mumbai. A little business, a little vacation..”

“,,,you’ll have to come to the house when we get back. It would be nice to catch up. And you guys can come to Millie’s party. Next Saturday. She’ll be over the moon to see you.”

“Can’t believe she’s going to be six,” Yaz shakes his head in disbelief. “Seems like yesterday you guys were finding out about her, never mind bringing her into the world. I still remember getting that call at three am; someone crying like a baby because he was a dad again and saying it was a girl. Six. Holy shit. Pretty soon she’ll be a teenager.”

Tyler scowls as he stands. “You shut the fuck up.”

“He doesn’t like to think about that,” Esme says. “That’s his baby girl. He’s very protective of her.”

“I don’t blame him. She’s the first after...well...you know. Can’t say I’m surprised he doesn’t want her to grow up. Mine’s not even born yet and I don’t even like to think about that stuff. See what you’ve done?’ He clasps a hand down on Tyler’s shoulder. “You’re rubbing off on some of us. We’re following in your footsteps. Trying to settle down, have a family.”

“You’re the last person I thought would do any of that,” Tyler confesses “ No more cocktail waitresses or strippers, huh?”

“Naw. It’s time to grow up. Be a proper adult. I mean, if you can manage it, anyone can. You talk about meaning the last you’d expect, what about you? You weren’t actually thinking about kids and all that seven years ago. You pretty much shocked everyone. I mean, I didn’t blame you for those five days. That one hell of a booty call.”

“Hey!” Emse slaps him across the chest. “Screw you, Yaz!”

“It’s a compliment,” he argues. “He would have been insane NOT to jump on it. But marriage and babies and all that? You pretty much mind fucked us all. Not that I wasn’t happy for you. I was just surprised. Considering I know how big of a mess you were.”

“Sometimes I’m still a mess,” Tyler admits. “I’m lucky though. NO matter how much of a fuck up I can, I’ve got a good woman. An amazing woman.” He gives his wife a wink and a nudge with his elbow, then drapes an arm across her shoulders as they walk Yaz to the car.

“You two are lucky,” Yaz says, as he pops open the driver’s door on his rental. “Even during all that craziness in Dhaka, you managed to find something pretty damn good. And you stuck with it. Through all the hard times and all the bullshit. You never let it break you. We should be all that lucky; finding THAT with someone. You guys will get through this. Your track record for surviving bad shit is ten for ten so far. You won’t let Mahajan fuck that up.”

“We’re hanging in there,” Esme says, as she smiles up at her husband and curls an arm around his waist, tucking herself tightly into his side. “I figure if we can get through that first year after Dhaka, we can get through anything. Never mind that. If we can get through what happened on that bridge, we can survive this.”

“You guys are stronger together than you are apart,” Yaz declares, then hugs them both. “Remember that, okay? Even when it feels like everything’s going to shit. Stick together and it’ll all work out. And you…” he taps Tyler on the cheek. “...don’t screw things up! Break her heart, I break your face.”

“What if she breaks MY heart?”

Yaz grins, then slides behind the wheel. “That’s NEVER going to happen.”


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: SMUT. SMUT. MORE SMUT.

He’s stirred awake by the brilliant sunshine that streams through the living room window; groaning loudly when the sudden flash of light is too harsh on his weary eyes. After Yaz had left, they’d retreated inside and had sat on the couch talking; a surprisingly calm and rational conversation considering the tension and stresses that Yaz had left in his wake. It had been a rough end to a great day; all the lighthearted, playful, and loving moments quickly overshadowed by talk of Mahajan. Dhaka. All the things he’d hope to avoid over the course of four days. It wasn’t what he wanted; dwelling on his upcoming departure and the seriousness of the task that lay ahead of him. The verbal acknowledgment of the target on his back and the enormous bounty that has placed on his head; quite the incentive for any street thug or even merc with a score to settle. 

When Yaz had shown up, he’d brought months of hostility with him. It hadn’t been handled well; his departure from New Zealand. Once he’d made up his mind...once his sanity hinged on whether he managed to get the hell out...he’d caught the first flight home and never once looked back. He should have dealt with it better; given the rest of the team -especially Yaz and Nik- a decent heads up so they would have a chance to prepare themselves and draw up a new game place. But he’d been desperate; on the verge of mental collapse and worried about the state of his marriage. He’d done what he’d was best not only for himself, but for his wife and children. He would have been of no use to the McMann kids; his brain fractured and fragile and incapable of handling the situation. 

There’s no doubt in his mind that he would have died there; unable to do the job properly, putting himself and those kids at risk. It was the smartest thing he could have done. Quit. Regardless of what anyone else says or thinks.

Eight days. With the rising of the sun, the days settle at eight. Just over a week until he’s leaving for Mumbai and embarking on quite possibly the riskiest job he’s ever taken on. The stakes have never been higher; a price on his head, the lives of his family being threatened. He needs to keep his cool; not let his emotions get the better of him. The second guys like Mahajan and his people get into his brain, his need to destroy them will become an obsession. All consuming, unrelenting. And while it’s hard to NOT let his emotions be in control it’s an absolutely necessity to rein them in. His emotions make him weak. Vulnerable. And guys like Mahajan can sense it; they can stop the chinks in the armour from a mile away and they’ll use it to their full advantage. He needs to stay focused; stay on his game. He can’t let them take up space in his brain; once they’re in there, they’ll burrow their way into the deepest and darkest of recesses and it will be impossible to evict them. He’ll be useless then. Unable to protect his own family in the same way he’d been unable to protect the McMann kids. And he’d never forgive himself if his own weakness were his family’s demise.

Sometime during their conversation, they’d both fallen asleep. The last thing he remembers is her climbing off the couch long enough to grab the heaviest blanket off the bed; returning with it wrapped tightly around her body and then laying down with her head in his lap. His hand had been in her hair; fingers combing through those soft, dark tresses and then letting them fall between. And he’s pretty sure he’d fallen asleep to the thought of much he’s been enjoying the time alone with her. How much he’d miss it...her...not only while he was in Mumbai, but if something prevented him from ever getting the chance to be with her again.

He reaches for his phone as it sits on the arm of the couch, quickly checking the time before tossing it onto the cluttered coffee table. Quarter to seven in the morning and not one single reasonable explanation for being up this damn early. No hungry baby to feed, no breakfasts to make, no kids to get ready for school. The silence in the shake is unfamiliar. Eerie. Almost unbearable. He’s spent the last six years (nearly) being surrounded by noise and activity, and it’s become the norm. He doesn’t even think about it anymore; so used to the chaos that anything else feels strange. And he actually finds himself missing it. The middle of the night feedings when the house is still and silent and it’s just him and Addie; those dark eyes staring up at him while he feeds her, all of her fingers wrapped tightly around one of his. Finding himself fascinated by how tiny she is; marvelling at how perfect and beautiful and wondering how a guy like him could ever help make something that incredible. Always falling asleep stretched out on the couch; the impossibly small being resting on his chest, a protective hand never leaving her back.

Or the mornings when he’s still asleep and he can hear the two oldest stirring in their bedrooms; lying in bed listening as the bickering begins and little footsteps can be heard in the hall just before they burst into the master; jumping onto the bed and shrieking and giggling as they attempt to ‘wake him up’. Those tiny yet surprisingly strong and nimble fingers that try and pry his eyes open. The way Declan will climb on top of him and cuddle in close; playing with his ears and stroking his beard as the toddler attempts to lull himself to sleep. It becomes such a huge part of your life, being a parent. Your entire world revolving around those innocent, totally dependent beings. To the point you often forget who you were BEFORE they came along. In his case, that’s a good thing. He doesn’t want to remember what he was like before; his life a disaster before he’d met their mother. She’d been the one who began the job of dismantling the walls he’d built around himself; his kids the ones completing it. Being a dad again has turned him into a different person. A different man. One that isn’t afraid to show emotion or give and receive affection. One that’s finally done things he can be proud of, instead of hating himself for.

Esme remains asleep with her head in his lap; on her back with her face turned towards him, nose pressed into his stomach. Looking so much younger than she is actually is; that smooth, soft skin devoid of any makeup, a touch of pink from the sun gracing her cheeks, the spattering of freckles -that she always complains about- across the bridge of her nose. She’s everything he could have wanted or asked for. Not just as a spouse and the mother of his children, but as a lover, confidant, and best friends. And it’s all those things together that make it even remotely possible to get through all the hard times and his battle with alcohol and pain med dependency and the issues brought about courtesy of his PTSD. 

There’s a slight frown playing on his lips when he trails a fingertip over the thin, pale scar that mars her forehead; touching the top of her right eyebrow and travelling upwards into her hairline. There’s others; a couple from when things haven’t gotten out of hand on the job, but most from Mark not being able to keep his fists to himself. The first couple of years had been touch; she’d flinch or jump away if he’d move too quickly while standing near her. Genuine fear on her face if he even did something as simple as raising his hand to push his own hair out of his eyes. If the movement was fast, it would startle her; taking her back to all those times someone had raised their hand to her with the sole intent to harm. It had been hard to break her of that; to get her to completely trust him despite his own issues and his volatile temper and knowing the damage he was capable of causing in his line of work. Always assuring that he’d never...ever...hurt her. How do you hurt someone you love THAT much?

He rests his palm on the side of her face, thumb repeatedly brushing against her cheek; his eyes closing and his head falling back onto the couch. They have a few hours before their planned departure. Driving to Mitchell River National Park, followed by a hike to where they’d camp for two days. Taking her to the last place he’d ever visited; the day drinking trip with Koen and Rata, when he’d jumped off the cliff and scared the shit out of the latter. Things had been different then. HE’D been different. Two after making that jump, Nik would be on his doorstep offering the Dhaka job and he’d be standing in his kitchen, watching that tiny, cute brunette on his front porch. It’s weird how one moment...one decision..,can change the entire direction and outcome of your life. And how everything can go so wrong but turn out so amazing in the end.

She moves against him, rubbing her face against his stomach and then turning her face into his hand. Lips finding the rough skin of his palm before she gives a long, content sigh and then turns her face towards the ceiling and opens her eyes.

“Hi,” she greets, eyes still heavy from sleep, voice small and groggy.

He runs the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip, then smiles. “Hi.”

“What time is it?”

“Early.”

“How early is early?”

“Very early.”

“Can you be a little more specific or…?”

“Just before seven.”

She groans. “You have this uncanny ability of always waking up way earlier than you need to.”

“Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I guess.” She briefly squeezes her eyes shut, sighing as she stretches languorously; bare feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket. “When do we leave?”

“Not for a while.”

She stares up at him, eyes slightly narrowed.

“A few hours. I forget how you always need things to be accurate. You’re a pain in my ass.”

“It’s a nice ass though,” she says with a grin, and his hand slides down to her throat; chin resting in the curve between his thumb and forefinger as he leans down to kiss her. And she gives a soft smile and a happy sigh as he trails his knuckles along her jaw. “I’ll be back.” she says, as she tosses off the blanket, gathering it up as she slides off the couch. “Oh God…” she grimaces, placing a hand on the small of her back. “...way too many epidurals have fucked me right up.”

“Sixth one should be all natural. A water birth. You can do it. I have faith in you.”

“I haven’t made up my mind about that yet. Don’t get your hopes up. My body is screwed up enough. Why do you want to screw it up even more?”

“It’s a fucking amazing body.” Tyler declares, admiring that familiar yet always alluring and attractive form; clad in just one of his t-shirts, leggings long disposed off. 

Her body has changed over the course of seven years, but there’s still no one...no other body...he wants in his bed. His hands and his mouth know every inch of her; every curve and dip and every one of those little places that -when touched or teased- drive her insane. He doesn’t understand the boredom that some men feel being with the same woman for years on end. How can there be anything dull or mundane about someone you love? About knowing someone’s body THAT well? Being in the one that knows that body in a way no one else will ever get the chance to? It’s an ego thing; knowing you’re the only one that gets to experience it, that you’re the one capable of manipulating it and bringing someone that kind of pleasure. It’s a confidence boost AND a turn on. And he feels it now; that stirring of lust and need and want. It’s carnal. Animalistic. Difficult to control even after almost seven years. Both a blessing and a curse in so many ways. 

His eyes are closed when she returns, and he groans deep in his throat when she climbs into his lap; arms circling his neck, bare crotch coming in direct contact with the beginning of his sweats covered erection. She knows what she’s doing; how much she drives him crazy. And she’d never hesitates on taking advantage of it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, when he feels the first touch of her lips against her neck; warm and soft as her mouth leaves no inch of the tattoo or the scars untouched.

“You’re so warm,” she replies, and nestles his face into his trap muscle.

“Something tells me you’re not going this to keep warm.”

She grins against the side of his neck. “You’re very perceptive, Tyler Rake.”

“You’re not exactly the most subtle woman on the planet.”

“I’m a woman who knows what she wants. And I want you. Like, right. This second.”

“And you have the nerve to call me ‘extra’?”

“Look, I’m married to the sexiest in the world. I’m alone with him. One hundred percent alone. With no one around to interrupt us. Considering all the time in the past six years we’ve been cock blocked by one or more kids, I deserve this. And it’s to you...husband...to fulfill my needs.”

He grins, hands settling on his hips; unable to hold back the groan as the tip of her tongue both the inner and outer edges of his ear. “It is, is it?”

“Mmm...hmmm. You’re the only one who is allowed to do these things. So it’s ALL up to you. And I know you’re more than capable of giving me what I want.”

“What if I’m not in the mood?”

“Please…” her lips move along his jaw, and she presses her crotch against the bulge in his sweats. “...I know you. You’re always in the mood.”

“You do know me,” Tyler agrees, his hand sliding up the side of her t-shirt. Callused fingertips sliding over and along her ribs as she licks, sucks, and nibbles every inch of the left side of his neck; following the patterns of the tattoo and moving over the scar. Unable to control upwards movement of his hips, pressing his erection against her; feeling the vibration against his throat when she groans.

“I know you very well,” she says, as she begins to grind against him; actions slow and deliberate, giving a small wince when his short nails rake down her sides. “I know you so well, that I know right now you want to go down on me. It’s your favourite thing to do. And you know I’ll never turn it down.”

“And you call me perceptive.” His fingers dig into her hips as he moves her from his lap, dropping her on her back. 

She’s grinning mischievously at him as she slides backwards on the couch in order to give his longer, bulkier frame more room. Watching as large hands push her legs apart; beard scratching her skin as his mouth moves along the inside of one thigh, then the other. Her teeth dragging over her bottom lip and her hips rising in anticipation.

“Asshole,” she grumbles, when he lays a heavy forearm across her lower stomach to keep her still. His lips and tongue and teeth bypassing the ultimate goal in favor of teasing the junctures of where hips and thigh meet. Followed by a series of wet kisses and gentle sucks along her pubic bone. 

“I’m in charge here,” Tyler informs her, as his fingertips and tongue trace over every one of those faint, slightly raised stretch marks she hates so much.

“Only time you actually are,” she counters.

He raises his head long enough to smirk at her before returning to the task at hand. Mouth now moving lower; hands sliding between her and the couch and settling on her ass. A cheek in each palms; those calluses rubbing against the skin and long, strong fingers kneading, pinching, and biting into the flesh. Mouth hot and moist against one hip, then the other. Taking his time despite the near painful hard on that strains against the fabric of his pants; fighting the urge to take one of his hands off her ass in order to jerk himself off. And he feels her foot sliding up his calf and over his thigh, growling his approval when she pressed it against his cock. 

“Stop,” he snarls, and presses his hips into the couch, trapping her foot. “You’ll make me cum if you keep doing that.”

“Doesn’t take much does it,” she teases, then gives a small help when he bite down on her upper right thigh. “What the fuck, Tyler? Are you going with matching marks now? Don’t be a dick. Stop wasting time.”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” he retorts, a palm moving across her ass; two fingers pushing their way between the cheeks, the tip of one brushing against the tight, puckered hole.

“Holy fuck…” she groans, heaving a heavy sigh as he eyes close, body trembling as a fingertip continues to stroke and gently -and shallowly- prod. “...you need to stop that...you need to...shit...fuck…” she whimpers the last two words as his mouth finally moves to where she wants it. Tongue licking a wide strip from one home opening to the other, then back again, tip pressing against her clit.

It doesn’t take much this morning. A few long, lazy laps and less than thirty seconds of fucking on that rigid, sensitive bud and that relentless teasing of that one finger in and around her ass and her orgasm hits. Both hands tightly gripping his hair; holding his head tightly to her as she cries out. A mix of his name and profanities and incoherent babbling. Her eyes still closed and her body still shaking as he moves his way upwards. Pulling up the bottom of the t-shirt as he goes; leaving it bunched under her chin as he suckles at one breast, then the other. Her juices lingering on his lips and in his beard when he finally kisses her; tongue pushing into her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. Those normally brilliant blue eyes dark and filled with want and need when he pulls back to look down at her.

“You good?” Tyler asks.

She nods, and when he shifts his position and his hips, her foot finds his cock once again.

He smirks. “You’re bad.”

“You like it.”

“I’m not going to like coming like that.”

“How do you want to do it then?”

“You might regret asking that,” he chides, and she shrieks and then giggles when he roughly flips her onto her stomach.

“On your knees,” he orders, and aggressively yanks the shirt over her, tossing it aside. 

Hands smooth over her hips and her ass as she does what she’s told. And he leans over to lick a path along her spine, from her tailbone to the back of her neck. Palming his erection as he presses a series of kisses across both of her shoulders, the fingers of his free hand digging into her hip when his teeth make contact with the nape of her neck. 

“You are so beautiful,” he praises, roughly squeezing her ass with one hand as the other continues to jerk himself off. His rough palm skimming over soft, supple skin as he reaches around her; two fingers rubbing briefly at her clit before pushing their way inside. “...so beautiful…”

A whimper escapes her lips and her head falls forward when a third finger pushes its way inside; the stretching uncomfortable but not painful. Her breath quickening and her hips moving on their own accord, fucking those long, thick digits.

“Fuck…” he groans, his hand tightening around his cock, teeth grazing against her shoulder.

It’s almost enough; her fucking his fingers and the smell of her and the noises she’s making and his own hand working himself. A long time ago, it WOULD have been. He would have been satisfied enough to finish himself off and not even about whether she got off as well. But it’s different now. HE’S different. And he removes his fingers and pushes her legs further apart, a foot on the floor and a knee on the couch as he brushes the tip of his cock against that warm, slick opening before pushing inside. Slowly and methodically; letting her feel every inch, every second of penetration.

It’s a beautiful sight. The sweat that glistens on her skin and dampens her hair line. Those huge, dark eyes that look over her shoulder at him. The flushed cheeks. And when he pulls out only to push back in with one solid thrust, she cries out and drops her forehead onto the couch. He stays where he is; enjoying the feeling of being buried inside of her. It’s familiar yet still incredible; each and every time. The way she takes him so well, as if her body was made to fit with his in a way no one else’s ever has. 

“Tyler…” she groans into the cushion. “...please...fuck me...I need you to fuck me...please…”

“In a second.”

“Not in a second! Now. Fuck me now!”

He smirks. “You ARE demanding,” he declares, then pulls out once more, only to slam back into her. A hand tightly clasping her shoulder, the other gripping her hip. And he repeats the action several times; each thrust a little harder than the last; encouraged by her cries and her whimpers and how tightly every muscle in her body is drawn. “I don’t think so…” he growls when she reaches between her lips, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pulling her hand away. “...only I get to do that.”

“Don’t do this,” she pleads. “...don’t tease me like this. Just...shit…” she bites down on her bottom lip when the grip on her hip tightens and yanks her back against him; forcing him even deeper. “...oh god...stop...stop teasing me…”

“Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

He presses her palm against her pussy. “Who does this belong to? Tell me? Who does it belong to?”

“You. It belongs to you, Tyler. Only you.”

“Fucking right it does,” he snarls.

Normally he hates this part of the game. He doesn’t mind being aggressive; he knows how far he can take things, how much that little body can take. But talking like that to her...the love of his life, the mother of his children...always so wrong and he always regrets it afterwards. Always worries he crossed certain boundaries and she’d never tell him if he did. But he can’t control himself; the words that come out of his mouth, his actions. All the frustration and worry and stress and rage pouring out of him. Manifesting itself in sex. And he lets go of her hand in favour of grabbing her hair; wrapping it tightly around his fist as the fingers of his other hand bite into her hip as he gives her what she wants. And what HE needs. A hard, no holds barred fuck; pounding into her at a brutal and unrelenting pace. No longer protesting when she reaches between her legs to play with her clit. Continuing to fuck her and chase after his release; his release ONLY. Until he feels her entire body shuddering and those inner muscles clenching around his cock and he hears the screams that erupt from her.

“I wanna come in your mouth.” Tyler says, only pulling out of her when she gives a nod of consent; his fingers releasing her hair as she turns around.

All the edge and the darkness is gone from his face and eyes as he regards her; his hand now gentle as it pushes through her hair and then cradles her cheek. His own eyes closing and his chest dropping towards his chest when those soft, supple lips close around the head of his cock; her hand resting on top of his as he continues to jerk himself off. Only needing several firm tugs before his hand moves from her cheek to the back of her head, holding her firmly in place as he comes; sending spurts of hot, thick semen down the back of her throat. 

A mix of profanities and her name rumbling from deep within his chest; entire body rigid as the combination of her mouth and their hands drain him dry. And his eyes are still closed when his legs threaten to give way. Dropping down onto the couch with low growl; chest heaving, sweat trickling down his temples and the back of his neck. Both arms circling her waist when she once more settles herself in his lap and buries her face in his shoulder.

****

It’s a half an hour hike to the campsite; the exact spot where he’d last visited almost seven years ago. The moment of arrival is bittersweet. Even more so than his return to the shack. He can distinctly remember that time in the water. Sitting on the rocks, filled with the fading images of his dead son; wondering just how long it would take to die if he simply gave up right there. He hadn’t had anything to live for; nothing by a drinking problem and a drug habit and a dog and a chicken at home that could be cared for by anyone. For some reason he didn’t give into the wish for death. Despite the pain and the heartache; the immense guilt, regret, and grief that were devouring him from the inside out. 

Two hours later his life would begin to change. Nik would offer him the Dhaka job and Esme would be on his front porch. Those five days in that dirty hotel room would follow; allowing himself to surrender to all consuming want and need. He refuses to think of anything that came after that; how quickly things had gone so wrong. Dwelling on that...that brief moment when he thought she’d died along with the rest of the team, the attack by Farhad and the street thugs, the night at Gaspar’s...will cause even more mental anguish. It all leads up to the Sultana Kamal Bridge, and nothing good comes from thinking about that.

Camp is easy to set up; a small two person tent, a couple of folding chairs, coolers of food and drink, one bag containing changes of clothes they may need. Tyler watches her as she cautiously approaches the edge of the cliff; staying four feet back and standing on her tiptoe in an attempt to see over. Never jumping or flinching when he wraps his arms around her from behind; her faith and trust in him never faltering or wavering. It’s always there; never worrying that he’ll hurt her or lead her into some kind of danger or trouble. 

She’s the only person who has trusted him THAT much.

“You can go closer.” he says, using his weight to push her forward. “You’re not going to fall. I won’t let you.”

“It’s pretty high up,” Esme frets.

“It’s only thirty meters.”

“ONLY he says,” she gives a nervous laugh. “You’re not going to throw me off, are you?”

He gives a chuckle. “You’d die.”

“Maybe that’s your plan,” she teases. “Get me here and do away with me. No one would ever know.”

“I kinda like having you around. Besides,” he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I haven’t updated your life insurance policy yet.”

She grins. “So I’m safe for another day.”

“Another few. Takes time to get hold of those people.”

She laughs at that, then gives a frightened squeal; her nails digging into his forearm when her feet come closer to the edge.

“Calm down,” he tightens his hold around her waist and pecks her temples. “I promise you won’t fall. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She holds onto his forearms as she kicks loose stones over the edge, watching as the plummet. “You really jumped off this?”

Tyler nods.

“You’re crazier than I thought.”

“It’s not that high. I’ve jumped from higher.”

“Yeah, in the military, with all your gear on. This is different. You DID have a death wish. You’re not expecting me to jump, are you? Because I love you, but no way.”

“Like I said, the drop would kill you. And you’ve got about fifty years left with me, so…”

“You’re not going to jump, right?”

“I’m too old for that shit now.”

“Don’t ever bring the twins here. You KNOW TJ will try it. That kid is fearless. He is all you.”

“Maybe when he’s older,” Tyler reasons. “Ovi’s age. It’s a right of passage; jumping off here. Guy hits a certain age, this is where they come.”

“Are all Australians nuts or is it just you?”

“It’s just me. Do you wanna go down? Go for a swim? We’ll go see the waterfall.”

Her eyes widen. “We’re not jumping, are we?”

“No jumping. I promise. There’s a path that’ll get us down there. Just gotta watch out for snakes. And dingoes.”

“My favorite combination.

“It’s okay, baby. I won’t let a snake or a dingo get you. I can’t say the same if a chupacabra comes at us, though.”

Esme laughs at that. “The chupacabra isn’t even real.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No one has ever seen one. It’s an urban legend.”

“Or maybe whoever HAS seen it, didn’t live to tell about it.”

“What if Slenderman comes for me?”

“How could he? He’s not real.”

“You could take him, I think,” she says, as she turns around to face him. “You could take Slenderman. Just like you could take Jason Bourne. Or that guy Keanu Reeves.”

Tyler grins. “That might be pushing it.”

“I have faith,” she says, then stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his chin. “You haven’t let me down yet.”

****

It takes twenty minutes to get down to the water, and she keeps a secure hold on the back of his shirt the entire time; somewhat comforted by the presence of the holster and gun on his right hip. It isn’t for any aggressive wildlife they may encounter, and she knows that. It’s a very real possibility that someone IS following them; most likely since they left home. Anyone could be watching them; whether it’s someone Anil has sent to keep an eye on things, or one of Mahajan’s people. She tries not to let it bother her; put at ease by not only her husband’s confidence when it comes to handling any situation thrown their way, but the knowledge that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her.

“This place is insane,” she breathes, as they find a small, grassy clearing near the water. A hand over her eyes shielding them from the sun as she takes in their surroundings; the looming limestone cliffs and the plummeting waterfall less than a hundred yards away. And she rummages through the backpack he’d brought along; going through the changes of clothes before locating her cellphone and taking a handful of pictures. “Is it safe down here?”

“As safe as it can be, I guess. All we’re going to see is wildlife, unless…”

Tyler doesn’t finish, words trailing off he does off his shoes and peels off his tank; tossing the latter onto a nearby rock, then placing the holster and gun underneath it. He hasn’t seen or heard anything that remotely suggests that someone is following them. At least not yet. And he doesn’t protest when she wants to take a selfie with the waterfall in the background to send to the kids; wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her cheek. 

“How many girls have you actually brought down here?” Esme asks, eyes sparkling playfully. “Where am I on the list?”

“First and only,” he answers honestly, as he stands calf deep in the cold, refreshing water and watches as she slips out of her clothes. Eyes widening and a grin spreading across his face as he catches sight of the two piece bathing suit she wears; candy apple red and held in place with a bow at the back of her neck and on each hip.

“What?” she asks, and gives a nervous laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m admiring.”

“Admiring what? All the fat and the stretch marks?”

“I don’t see what you see.”

“You need glasses then.”

“Is that what you bought?” he asks. “When we went into town that day?”

She nods, then drops her discarded clothes on top of his. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh I like it. I like it a lot, actually.”

“You always complain about all my other suits. That I need to cover that much.”

“You don’t. It’s all in your head; this bullshit about your body. You look amazing.”

“Even after five kids?”

“ESPECIALLY after five kids. You’re fucking sexy. Isn’t how horny I get around you...and how often I do...evidence of that?”

“I don’t know,” she gathers her hair into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic she sports around her waist. “You pitch a tent if there’s a stiff breeze in the room. Maybe you’re just easy to please.”

“Or maybe in my eyes, you’re the most beautiful, sexy woman on the planet.”

Esme grins, then gingerly makes her way along the rocks. “Not cute?”

“You’re that too,” Tyler assures her.

She cautiously dips her toes in the water, then curls her fingers around his when he offers a hand. “Wait…” she pauses. “...are there alligators in here?”

“No.”

“Okay…”

“Because we’re in Australia and we have crocodiles here, not alligators.”

She scowls and draws her hand back.

“I’m just saying. How many times have I been over this with you? Australia? Crocodiles. Where you’re from? Alligators.”

“There are no alligators in Colorado.”

“You know what I mean. And no. There are no crocodiles here.”

“If there is…” she once more takes his hand. “...I’m the faster swimmer and I’m letting them eat you. I love you, but someone has to be the sacrifice to the crocodile gods.”

“I promise you that there’s no crocodiles here. You think I’d bring you here...in the water...if there was?”

“I don’t know. You’re a crazy Aussie, after all,” she teases, as she wraps both arms around one of his as he leads the way further into the water. 

“Technically, you’re an Aussie too,” Tyler informs her.

“By marriage only. You realize both girls were born here, right? None of the boys were. So only Millie and Addie are proper Aussies. The rest of us are pretend ones.”

“Wannabes,” he says. “You’re all wannabe Aussies.”

“I’m good with that. I married the best one.” She waits until the water is almost over her head before jumping onto his back; arms around his neck, legs around his torso. “Best decision ever! Marrying a ridiculously tall guy.”

“You’re like four feet,” he chides. “Everyone’s taller than you.”

“Excuse you, but I’m five four!”

“Bullshit. I have more than a foot on you.”

“Okay, so I’m more like five two and a bit. And you’re absurdly tall. Like a sasquatch. Only better looking. You’re all torso and limbs. So are Millie and TJ. I think Declan’s going to be tall too.”

“That kid’s fucking huge. He’s going to be like six six and built like a tank. Come to think of it, the cable guy did have a couple inches on me.”

“Dick wise?” she teases, and bites his earlobe.

“You know what?” He reaches back and grabs her by the upper arms, effortlessly throwing her over his head into the water. And she’s laughing when she resurfaces, tucking wayward strands of wet hair out of her eyes and behind her ears.

“I’m onto you, Tyler Rake,” she says, as she treads water. “You’re not going to throw me off the cliff. You’re going to drown me.”

“I SHOULD drown you for the dick comment.”

“I know you’re sensitive about it. About your dick. No!” she shoves him away when he reaches for her. “You’re going to drown me. I know you are.”

“Why would I drown you when people know we’re here together? If I don’t show up at home with you and your body washes up somewhere, it’s obvious who killed you.”

“Good point.”

“There’s other ways to do it. Ways I could make it look like an accident.”

“There’s no way you’re going to kill me,” she says, as she wraps her arms around his neck once more, this time from the front. “There’s no payout. That’s what you get for not being on top of things.”

“There’s something I’d like to be on top of right now.”

Esme smirks. “You’d think you never get any. That you’re sex starved or something. I don’t think all forty year old men are perpetually horny.”

“Guess you’re lucky you married the right one.”

“I already know THAT.” she says, as she pushes a hand through his wet hair and then holds his face in her hands as she kisses him. The tip of her tongue gliding over his top lip when she pulls away. “What if someone IS watching?”

“Let them. They might learn something.”

“You ARE a good teacher,” she reasons, and then sighs when his mouth finds the side of her neck. Eyes closing and her head falling forward onto his shoulder as he licks, nibbles, and sucks at the tender skin. 

“What are these for?” Tyler asks, as his fingers tug on the bow on her left hip. “Easy access?”

“Why do you think I said it was for me AND you?”

He grins. “I like the way you think.”

“You like the way I do a lot of things,” she declares, then winces when the back of her head comes in contact with one of the towering, limestone walls of the gorge. “Are you serious right now?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You don’t want to wait until we get back to camp?”

“Nope.” He yanks at the ties on the one side of her bathing suit, then pushes the fabric aside and lays his palm against her mound. Kissing her deeply as he pushes two fingers inside of her.

“I think there’s something wrong with us,” she says, as his free hand shoves his board shorts off his hips and over his ass. “This can’t be normal. WE can’t be normal. Wanting each other THIS much.”

“Babe, we are so far past normal we’re not even on the chart anymore.”

“Very true,’ she agrees, and then whimpers when he pushes into her; forehead meeting his shoulder and her nails scraping across his back and down his sides, hands settling on his hips. “You feel so good…” she whispers. “...you always feel so good.”

“I love you.” His movements still as he says it, lips pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “So much.”

“I love you, Tyler. More than you could ever know.”

He takes it slower this time; both arms wrapped tightly around her, careful to watch her back against the rocks. And when he comes...shortly after her...it’s with her name on his lips.

****

“I know you’re worried.”

Tyler’s eyes snap open from behind his sunglasses, and he turns his head towards her. They lay on a blanket near the water; spread across a small patch of grass. And while he’s stretched out flat on his back, she sits beside him with her legs folded; drinking a bottle of Gatorade and eating from a can of Pringles. He’s pretty sure he’d dozed off; the sun has shifted and the temperature feels a few degrees cooler.

Her hair is still damp and now hangs loose along the sides of her face and over her shoulders, and she wears one of his t-shirts that he’d brought along over her bathing suit. There’s chafing from his beard along the sides of her throat, and a faint bite mark on her right collarbone; the edge of it poking it from the neck of the shirt. He’d taken her twice in the water; second time from behind and much harder and aggressive. And even with her legs crossed he can the bruising on her inner thighs; proof of two days of often rough and intense sex. 

He closes his eyes once more and reaches out to lay a hand on the small of her back as the other rests on his stomach. “What makes you think I’m worried?”

“Because I know you. And you can’t turn things off. Not when there’s a threat. Especially with something as serious as this. You are who you are, Tyler. You can’t change that. And I wouldn’t want you to.”

He sighs.

“And you’ve barely been sleeping,” Esme adds.

“I’ve always had issues sleeping. Ever since we met.”

“It’s different when you’re worried. I’ve been sharing a bed with you for how long now? I know you. I know your habits. You’re getting up several times a night and I know it’s not always because of pain. I know the difference; in things that bother you.”

“Am I really THAT predictable?”

“I’m sure there’s things you notice about me. Little things I do. Habits. You’ve probably never thought about them, but I’m sure you’d recognize when I change. When I change.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“Are you scared?” She asks.

“Of what?”

“Mahajan.”

He groans as he sits up, left hand rubbing at his right shoulder. “Maybe a little.”

“What are you scared of?”

He helps himself to a swig of her Gatorade. “There’s a few things.”

“Like?”

“How about you stop worrying about what’s going on in my head,” he suggests.

“You know I’m always going about that. About you.”

“I’m telling you that you don’t need to. You let me worry about what’s going on in my own brain, yeah? You’ve got enough going on in your own head.”

“And I’m telling YOU...for the hundredth goddamn time...that YOU need to stop holding things back. I’m not a child, Tyler. You don’t need to coddle me. I’m a grown woman. And I’m your wife and the mother of your children. I’m the person you SHOULD be talking to.”

“I know…” He lays a hand on the side of her head and pulls her into him, pressing a kiss to her temple. “...I know you worry and I know you want me to tell you things. But have you ever thought that I don’t tell you because I want to protect you?”

“Protect me from what? You? Because I’ll tell you right now that that's a bunch of shit and you know it.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t want to fight.”

“I’m not fighting. I’m talking. WE’RE talking. Which is one the reason we did all of this in the first place. Going away together. So we COULD talk.”

“Not about this.”

“When else are we going to talk about it? We won’t be able to when we get home. Not with the kids there. And you leave in eight days. And those eight days are going to fly by and then you’ll be gone and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I don’t know if I'm ready to say goodbye to you.”

“We don’t say THAT word,” he reminds her. “We NEVER say it. So don’t say it now. That word doesn’t exist when it comes to us. We agreed to never...ever...say it.”

“I’m scared,” she says, tears brimming her eyes. “I’m scared you’re going to walk out the door and I’m never going to see you again. At least not alive.”

“I’m scared of that too,” Tyler admits, and his hand falls to her shoulder, drawing her into his side. 

“I know you have to do this. I understand it. This more than any other job you’ve ever done. But it doesn’t make it any easier; watching you walk out the door. And I know you can’t promise me that you’re coming back. But at least promise me that you’ll try. That you’ll do whatever you have to try and get home.”

“I will, baby. I’ll do what I have to. Whatever it takes.”

“Because this life would totally suck without you. I’d miss you too much. And there’s no way I can take care of five kids on my own.”

“You’d be fine,” he rubs her arm comfortingly. “You’re strong. The strongest person I know.”

“I don’t WANT to do it without you. This life. And I know I’m supposed to be some strong, independent woman that can handle everything on her own and that I probably sound really weak and whiny right about now.”

“You don’t. You don’t sound like that.”

“But I love you and I need you here. And our kids need you. Especially the boys. They need their dad. I don’t want them growing up without you. And I don’t want to grow old without you. No matter how much you drive me crazy.”

He gives a small laugh.

“Promise me, Tyler. Promise me you’ll do whatever you have to try and come home.”

“I promise,” he says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before tightening his hold on her. 

And they sit there, pressed together. Neither of them speaking...or moving...until the sun begins to set on the horizon.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Angst. Angst. And more angst. Sorry.

Only fifty three hours remain. 

A little more than two days before he’s on a flight to Mumbai. The last six have flown by; time ever slowing the moment they returned home from the Kimberley, no matter how much he begged it to. The majority of his days have been spent preparing for the upcoming mission; taking stock of weapons and ammo and various other gear and supplies. Meetings with Yaz and his tech crew as they hunker down at a local hotel before departing for India. Pouring over the blueprints and the photographs of the prison and the hotel that Yaz had managed to track down. Conference calls and video chats with Anil and his people. When he hasn’t been caught up in all the job logistics, he’s been spending time with Ovi; busting the kid’s ass in the gym and attempting to squeeze in lessons and training on weapons and hand to hand combat. It has left little time for other pursuits; nothing more than thirty minutes or an hour (at most) with his kids. Trying to savour every minute...every second...with them in case he never gets the chance to again. Wanting to commit every little moment to memory; every word they speak, every giggle, the feeling of their arms wrapped around his neck and their faces buried in his shoulder. Faking his own smiles and laughter when all he wants to do is cry. Wanting nothing more than to just gather them in his arms and never let go.

It’s been difficult. Pretending to that everything is fine when you’re falling apart inside; being eaten alive by worry, doubt, and fear. But he’s hid it well. Or at least he THINKS he has. He’s kept his increasing irritability and simmering rage under control; never raising his voice or snapping at them, never letting them hear the emotion that threatens to choke, or see the tears that often brim in his eyes. As far as they’re concerned, they’re simply going on a trip; excited to visit the place that Ovi ‘comes from’ and see and experience new things. All they know is that daddy leaves a couple days before; going earlier for work. And that while he isn’t able to stay with them and might not get the chance to see them when they arrive, he’ll get to visit them as soon as he possibly can. They’d accepted that explanation a lot easier than he thought they would. The last time he left them for ‘work’, things hadn’t gone as smoothly. The twins had taken it hard -especially TJ- and Millie had been hysterical. He’d thought that after promising them that he’d never leave them again, things would explode in his face. That they’d be hurt and angry and hate him for going back on his promise. But they’d been remarkably calm; comforted by the thought of going on ‘an adventure’ and having him close by at the same time. Satisfied when he’d told them that having them come to India had been his choice; hating the idea of being so far away from them that he’d arranged for them to be so much closer.

It’s all there. Stress. Anxiety. Worry. The guilt that he’s been so focused and dedicated to the Mumbai job that he’s had very little time with his family when they’re the ones he SHOULD be concentrating on. It’s a very real -and terrifying- possibility that these are his last days with them. That when he walks out the door on Sunday, he may never walk back in. That fear is always there with any job; leaving your family is always hard, but this is different. So VERY different. This is personal. Their safety...their LIVES...totally dependent on him. If he doesn’t stay focused, if he allows his nerves and his emotions to get the better of him, they’ll pay the price. And he’ll never forgive himself if it’s a mistake on his part that tears his entire life apart. He couldn’t live with that; the guilt, the immense grief, a loss greater than he’s ever known. So he reassures himself as often as often as possible that everything he’s doing...every decision he’s making...every second he’s dedicated to the job and not his family...is for them. So that he can not only get it done, but still have a family to come home to.

For now there’s a reprieve. Time away from the house. Stepping away from all planned meetings and conference calls and leaving Koen and Nathan -armed with very detailed checklists- in charge of making sure every weapon, every piece of ammo, and any other supplies they’ll need, are packed into locked trunks and ready to go. Ovi tasked with watching the two littlest while the three oldest are at school. Making the two hour drive to Palm Cove to pick up Saju the Australian shepherd; Millie’s late birthday present. She’d turned six on Wednesday; waking up that morning bright eyed and boisterous and showing absolutely no signs of illness and putting all of his worst fears to rest. The rational side of his brain always knew that would be the outcome; his daughter healthy and happy. But his mind hasn’t exactly BEEN rational for a long time. The damage that’s been done is both irreversible and irreparable; those minutes left without oxygen when he’d coded -twice- in the operating room, the battle with both alcohol and drug dependency, PTSD and all the bullshit that comes with it. 

There’s day -months even- where he functions just fine; not hampered by poor decisions of the past or the demons that exist inside of him. Then there’s times when the weight of everything becomes too much to bear; where it’s impossible to even get out of bed in the morning and he wants to put a gun in his mouth. A permanent solution to a temporary problem. But no matter how bad it gets...no matter how overwhelming it becomes...he always reminds himself that he’s one of the lucky ones. That he’s surrounded by those beautiful, innocent little beings that love him and need him to keep going. And one phenomenally resilient -and ferociously stubborn- woman that never gives up in him. Always supporting him and loving him even when he hasn’t been the best friend of man for her.

“Look at your little face!” Esme gushes from the passenger seat, eyes sparkling and her entire face glowing as she interacts with the puppy in her lap. 

It’s a nice to see -and hear- genuine happiness as opposed to as the fake smiles and laughter that have become commonplace. Consumed by her own stress and fears and very real concerns. Wondering how she’ll manage to keep five kids happy, healthy, and safe in an entirely different country and if she’ll be able to keep up the act that being in Mumbai is nothing more than a simple family holiday. And her worry regarding him is incessant; terrified that she’ll never see him again the second he leaves for Mumbai. There’s always that fear; every job is dangerous and unpredictable and being married to a mercenary is not for the faint of heart. But everything is elevated this time around. The threats real and personal; an enormous bounty placed upon his head and her own life and those of her children depending on him staying alive long enough to get the job done. 

But she has faith in him. Unwavering trust. And since their return from The Kimberley, the difference between them has been remarkable. He sees it. He FEELS it. They’re both much calmer and at ease with one another despite the circumstances surrounding them. They talk more instead of bickering; rational conversations instead of emotionally driven arguments. Their bond...their connecting...while always strong, has been heightened. Beyond anything either of them could have expected.

“Look at you!” She continues, as the puppy stands with his hind legs on her thigh and his front paws on her chest. Tousling the fur one the top of his head and scratching him under the chin as he curiously sniffs at her clothes and her hair and the necklace she sports. “Looking how freaking cute you are! Look at those pretty blue eyes. Who’s the handsome little man? Who is the most handsome man in the world.”

Tyler grins. “Well I thought it was me, but apparently I’ve been replaced.”

“No one could ever replace you,” Esme declares.. “EVER. But I mean, look…” she picks the puppy up and turns it to face him. “...look at this little face! Look at it! How can you not love it? It’s so sweet and so cute and I just want to kiss him to death! He’s even got blue eyes like the rest of you. Isn’t he just the cutest thing ever?”

“You’re the cutest thing ever,” he says, and she gives a bright smile and a half hearted roll of the eyes. 

He can’t help the smile that creeps across his own face as he both listens to her and watches her out of the corner of his eye. The way she uses that higher pitched, almost childlike voice that she’s never busted out on their kids but reserves strictly for other peoples’ infants and cute animals. Like the time they’d gone to the koala sanctuary and she'd squealed -and then cried- when one of the babies crawled up her leg and allowed her to cuddle and love in it. And he even manages a laugh when she bursts into giggles; playfully protesting and turning her head from side to side when the puppy excitedly licks her face.

“You realize he’s our daughter’s dog, yeah? That we got him for her?”

“I can’t help that he likes me. That he thinks I’m his person. He’s just the sweetest thing ever. How can anyone resist that little face? Besides, who do you think is going to be doing all the work? Who’s going to be the one taking care of him? It’ll be like having another baby. And you’re not going to be around, so you’ll be completely useless to me and…”

Her voice trails off, and when Tyler glances over he notices the tears welling in her eyes and the way she chews on her bottom lips. “Hey...” he drops a hand from the steering wheel and lays it against the back of her head, fingers gently massaging her scalp. “...what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” she chokes out. “Everything is wrong.”

“Baby...what…?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

He frowns. “Said what? What are you…?”

“When I said I have to do everything because you won’t be around. I called you useless. I didn’t mean it that way. It didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“It didn’t sound like anything. You were joking. It sounded like a joke. That’s all.”

“You’re the one that’s putting your ass on the line for me. For our kids. You’re the one that’s going out there and going after these people. You’re the one that’s most in danger. Yet I say something like THAT? That was a horrible thing to say and I’m a horrible person for saying it.”

He can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “It was a joke. I knew you were joking. I didn’t mean it any other way. Just calm down.” He smooths a palm over hair and then rests it on her shoulder, squeezing tightly before taking her hand. Lacing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to the side of her wrist before placing their joined hands on his thigh. “It was a joke. You didn’t mean anything by it.”

“This is NOT the time for a joke like that,” she laments, using her free hand to brush tears off her cheeks. Only to have the puppy to knock it out of the way in favour of licking her face.

“Even he’s upset now,” Tyler says. “There’s no reason to cry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Acting like this. I promised I wouldn’t get this; all whiny and teary and shit.”

“First off, you’re not whiny. We’re going through some serious shit right now and a lesser woman…a weaker woman...would have had a mental breakdown by now. I don’t expect you not to cry.”

“I said I wouldn’t though. That I’d be calm and composed around the kids.”

“Well there’s no kids here right now, is there. It’s just us. Unless you count him,” he nods down at the puppy sitting between her thighs; eyes intently focused on her, head cocked to the side. “Look at him. He’s looking at you like you’re his mother.”

“He’s so cute,” she sniffles, and scratches the top of Saju’s head. “Not as cute as you, but still really cute.”

“Did you seriously just call me cute?”

“You ARE cute. You can’t fight me on this, Tyler. You’re cute and disgustingly handsome and insanely sexy all rolled into one. What a burden you have to carry every day being so superior to the rest of the species. You’ve set the bar extremely high for others.”

He grins. “And you say I’M biased?”

“It’s not being biased if it’s true. And I don’t mean to be this way. So weak and emotional and…”

“You know what? Stop. You’re not weak. You are so far from being weak. You’re the strongest woman...person...I’ve ever met. I don’t expect you to feel nothing. This is tough. And I’m feeling it too and there’s no kids around right now and if you need to cry and rant and rave and lose your shit, now is the time to do it. Better now than at home.”

“I’m just so stressed, I’m so stressed and I’m so worried and I’m so fucking angry.”

“What are you angry about?”

“The whole thing. That we can’t just have a normal lie. That people won’t leave us alone.”

“You knew what you were getting into when you stuck around after Dhaka,” he gently reminds her. “You knew what life was like. That there’s always someone out there, wanting revenge.”

“I know. And I don’t regret sticking around. I don’t regret you. Or us. I never have. I never will. I just hate it won’t leave you alone. That you’ve been through so much and you’ve come so far and it still won’t let you rest. It’s still not enough. And when will it be? Next week? Next month? A year from now? Two years? Never?”

“Let’s just get through one thing at time,”Tyler suggests. “Let’s just get past this and then worry about anything else that might come along. There’s no sense getting worked up over this that even happened yet. That probably never will happen.”

“I just want this to be over. I just want you to go and do what you have to do. I just want you to end this. And then I want you to come and get us and take us home.”

“I will,” he promises, and squeezes her hand. “And I’ll come see you guys when I can. When they’ll be it’s safe enough to show up there.”

“The kids won’t understand why they can’t see you. And I don’t know what to tell them. They’re just little. They don’t need to know what’s going on.”

“I’ll tell them that I can’t visit until I’ve done a few things. That I don’t know how long it’s going to be, but I’ll be there as soon as I’m done. They’re strong kids. And they’re smart. They’re everything that’s great about me and you, all put into them. It’ll be okay. THEY’LL be okay.”

“What if I’m not going to be okay?” Esme asks. “What if this is my breaking point and this is where I totally lose it and go nuts and then I can’t even take care of them properly?”

“You need to calm down. I know you’re stressed and I know you’re scared and you’re freaked out, but you’re going to be fine. You have to be. For them. Okay? I need you to be fine. For our kids. For MY kids. And you’re strong and you’re resilient and you can do this. I know you can.”

She sniffles. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

“I do,” Tyler agrees. “But I know what you’re capable of. I was there; on that bridge. I know what you did. And if you can do that, you can do anything.”

“Just the thought of you being so close yet so far at the same time…”

“I’ll call when I can. You know I will. I’ll make sure you always know what’s going on and that I’m safe. And besides, you won’t be totally alone. Especially at night. You’ll have this little guy.” he nods down at the puppy. “He’ll keep you company. He’ll cuddle with you.”

“As cute as he is, I’d rather it be you.”

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her hand and then raising it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. “I’d rather that too.”

****

After dinner they retreat to the beach; sun falling lower in the sky and bringing slightly cooler temperatures and a much needed break from the humidity. She sits on a blanket spread across the sand, legs outstretched and Addie laying along her thighs. A hand shielding her eyes from the slowly setting sun as she watched -in amusement- as Tyler, Ovi, and the kids attempt to teach the puppy basic commands. So far it’s been a bust; even with treats for both bribing and rewarding and Mac showing his new ‘sibling’ how it’s done.

The surprise had gone over well; bringing Saju with them when they’d picked the three oldest up at school. Millie wide eyed in shock when she’d seen that little bundle fur and huge blue eyes in her father’s arms, then dissolving into tears and sitting right down in the middle of the asphalt with the puppy in her lap. She’d been slightly disappointed -even with all the other presents she’d been spoiled with- when her entire actual birthday had gone by without the appearance of a puppy. So the pure joy and excitement had been heightened; tears reappearing every so often, accompanied by tight hugs and soft kisses for her parents and a “Thank you, mommy and daddy. He’s perfect.” And since their initial meeting, Saju hasn’t left Millie’s side; following her around the house, sitting at the pool and whining for her while she went swimming, curling up on her lap while eating supper. He’ll be the bridge spot in their lives’ the one that will bring the smiles and giggles while in India.

She wonders how long it will be. Until all the names are crossed off the list and they’re able to come home. She doesn’t want to make Mumbai a long term resident; her happiness and her calm and serenity all rooted in Australia. In their home and their property; in the smell and the sound of the ocean and in every stunning sunset and sunrise. Things have been good here. Very good. Everyone much more relaxed and at ease; being near the water and surrounded by nature and every beautiful sight and sound that comes with it has been good for them. Mind, body, and soul. And her marriage has been better. Stronger. They’re not as irritable with each other anymore; no longer a lingering mutual hostility that always seemed to be brewing right under the surface. The fighting not occurring as much and far less volatile when it does creep up. Words not as harsh and cutting; no attempts at hurting one another when they feel wronged or disrespected. Even after six and a half years, it’s very much a learning curve. Both victims of horrible first spouses and both carrying baggage for their pasts; both damaged in their own way. Yet somehow managing to balance each other out and heal all the dents and cracks.

Being away for four days had been a Godsend. The time alone not only helping them reconnect, but helping them recharge as well. A chance to be together and rediscover one another outside of being spouses and parents; reminded of how important it is to keep all the other aspects of their relationship thriving as well. And while she’s grateful for that time away, the heartbreaking truth is that it may have very well been the last time they would be together. The possibility of him not surviving is very real; more so than any other job he’s ever taken. Their danger and unpredictability paling in comparison to the things he’ll face in Mumbai. The target on his back will grow with passing day; the bounty on his head increasing dramatically. And she knows it’s weighing on him; the magnitude of the situation, the threats against her and the kids, the thought that he may not make it home.

It’s a lot for him to carry; an already tortured mine being stretched to its limits. He barely sleeps; blaming it on pain when she knows full well it’s so much more than that, Wearing himself out and running himself ragged; attempting to devote every waking moment to both the logistics of the mission and spending time with his kids. Last night he’d fallen asleep -briefly- with the twins; that long, bulky frame looking even bigger on that bottom bunk, a son tucked under each arm. The evening before that, he and Millie had crashed on the couch together; Millie on his lap with her stomach pressed against his torso, head on his shoulder and both arms wrapped around his neck. And she sees the pain on his face when he’s cuddling Declan while the toddler struggles to fall asleep, or when he’s feeding Addie and his eyes never once leave hers. A profound sadness that comes over him; the way his shoulders slump and he swallows noisily and his eyes become darker. She’s seen him emotional many times in the past seven years, but she’s never...ever...seen him like THAT. A mix of despair and hopelessness; brain torturing him with the thought that this may very well be the last time Declan ever plays with his beard and his ears while trying to drift off, or come Sunday he may never get the chance to see his baby girl grow up.

Even now he’s at war with himself. She can see it. He’s trying so hard; attempting to separate Old Tyler and New Tyler for the sake of the kids. He’s convincing to them; they’re little and worship the ground he walks on and every smile and laugh is genuine to them and they relish every hug and kiss, not knowing the fears running through his mind. But she knows he’s fighting it; those two very different sides of him struggling to coexist. She sees it in how distracted he is. In the way his face and his eyes will darken when the kids aren’t looking; the way his shoulders tense and his jaw clenches. So many emotions he’s attempting to rein in. All that fear and worry he insists on keeping locked away.

Even his smile now is forced. Tugging at tightly pursed lips as he heads towards her; Declan looking impossibly small alongside of him, clutching one of his father’s hands as he unsteadily navigates the sand. Leaving the three oldest where they are; content and safe with Ovi, still trying to teach the puppy tricks. 

“He’s stubborn, huh?” She grins up her husband.

“Means he fits in around here. There’s a few stubborn people under our roof.”

“Yeah, there is. And I’m looking at the main culprit right now.”

“”Don’t talk about Declan like that.”

“You know damn well I wasn’t talking about him. And you can deny it all you want. You’re the most stubborn person to walk the planet.”

“Nope. I think someone has me beat.” Tyler tugs playfully at her ponytail and then slowly and gingerly lowers himself onto the blanket. Unable to hide the wince on his face when she settles next to her and stretches out his legs. The pain has been especially bad the last few days; limp more pronounced, knee seizing up and locking at inopportune times. It’s the last thing he needs; body betraying him in the middle of a job. Especially THIS job.

“You okay?” Esme asks. “That knee’s really been giving you a hard time.”

“I’m fine,” he replies, pulling Declan down into his lap and then reaching for the bag of drinks and snacks they’d brought along and handing his son a sippy cup of juice. 

She watches out of the corner of her eyes when he runs one of those large, strong hands over their son's strawberry blond hair, then drops a kiss on the top of Declan’s head and presses another to his cheek. The sadness is there; in his eyes, written all over his face. And she knows there’s nothing she can say or do to help alleviate the suffering that he’s going through. That reality being what hurts most of all.

“YOU okay?” Tyler asks, as he runs a palm over hair and settles it on the back of her neck.

“I’m okay,” she replies, and presses a kiss to his cheek. The bristles of his beard rough against her lips as they linger just below his ear. The smile that he gives now is genuine; small, but soft and sincere. 

He Turns his face into hers, covering her mouth with his in a long, slow kiss that is so gentle it both takes her breath away and brings tears to her eyes. She keeps them closed; not wanting to add another worry or stress to his already overflowing plate. And she wraps both arms around his bicep and lays the side of her head against his shoulder; fingertips running over smooth skin and hard muscle. Only opening her eyes when she feels him move against her; scooping Addie up with one hand as Declan crawls away to play in the sand. 

“Are you actually going to come to bed tonight?” Esme inquires, as he lays Addie along his free arm, heading resting in the crook of his elbow. Noticing both the way he swallows around a lump of emotion that sits solidly in his throat, and his eyes well with tears.

“Why?” Tyler leans down to press a kiss to Addie’s forehead. “Miss me?”

“Just a little. I know I always complain about your snoring and your cold feet, but I miss them when they’re not around.”

“Probably won’t be around for a while.”

“Hopefully not as long as you think. And I know I probably sound selfish because I just spent four days alone with you, but I miss you. Last night you fell asleep with the twins, the night before it was with Millie. I’m starting to get a little jealous.”

“Nothing to be jealous about. You’re still my favourite.”

She smiles and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I’d really like it if you came to bed. OUR bed Because I have two days left with you and I want to be with you. As much as I can.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are we talking in the biblical way, or…?”

“In EVERY way. I want to feel you. Beside me. INSIDE of me. I need that. I need YOU. I need to make it last until I get the chance to be with you again. So come to bed tonight. Please.”

“I will,” he promises, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I haven’t been sleeping good,” he admits. “I wake up maybe an hour, hour and a half into it and I can get back.”

Esme removes one of her arms from around his, then reaches up to comb her fingers through the longer strands of hair on the top of his head. “You’re not going to be any good if you burn yourself out.”

Tyler sighs. “I know.”

“You need to take care of yourself too. You’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating even though you’re working out twice as hard, you’re in pain….”

“I’m always in pain.”

“You’re in even more. I can tell. You don’t have to say it; I just know. And if it’s THAT bad, maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe you give the list to Nathan or Koen or even Yaz or Nik. Nik can get people on it.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t,” he snarls, and immediately regrets it. Sighing heavily, he briefly closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that; to snap at you like that. You’re the last person who deserves it.”

“It’s okay,” she places a kiss on his cheek, chin resting on his shoulder as she continues to comb her hand through his hair; letting the thick tresses slowly slip between her fingers. “You’ve got a lot going on in that head of yours. I’m surprised you haven’t been more on edge. That you’ve been handling it as well as you have.”

“It’s what I gotta do, yeah? Keep it together for you and the kids?”

“It’s better for the kids if you do. But you don’t have to for me. You know that. I’ve been through this before; you leaving for a job. It’s never easy. I’m always worried the second you step out the door.”

“This is different,” he says. “This isn’t like any other job I’ve ever done.”

“It’s personal.”

He nods. “Very.”

“Tyler, there’s no shame in backing out of this. If you’re in this much pain and you don’t think you can physically handle it…”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t. You’re just assuming I can’t.”

“I know you’re in pain. And it’s worse than it’s ever been. If you have to back out, there’s no shame in that. It’s better if you leave things to someone else if there’s a chance something can go wrong with your shoulder or your knee or your back. Because if something DOES happen…”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Tyler insists. “It’s not that bad. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“...if something DOES happen…” she continues. “...it’ll be a disaster if it happens at entirely the wrong time. What if you’re alone? What if your knee goes out and you’re alone and you can’t get out of somewhere?”

“That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know it won’t.”

“And you don’t know it will,” he retorts. “All of a sudden you don’t trust me?”

“You know that’s not it. You’re the only person I DO trust. I’m worried about you. And it’s not just your physical issues, either.”

“My fucked up brain, you mean?”

“I didn’t say that. I’d NEVER say that. But you’re aren’t sleeping and you’re on edge and you’re pushing yourself behind even your limits and I don’t want this to break you. Because I’m worried if it does, we won’t get you back together again. There’s people that can do this. People YOU trust. They’re as capable as you are.”

“No one is as capable as I am. Or as good as I am.”

“I’m asking you to reconsider this. Because I don’t know if you’re up to this And I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m saying to possibly save you. Because you have five little kids at home that need you, I need you. And if it breaks you...if it DESTROYS you…”

“I can’t back out,” he argues. “I can’t. I can’t even consider it.”

“What if we still went to Mumbai but you stayed with us?” Esme suggests. “At Anil’s house. You can protect us a lot better than any of his people can, and you know that. I trust you with my life. With our kids’ lives. I’d rather it be you watching over us than anyone else. What if you stayed with us and only went if you were really needed?”

“You know I can’t do that. You know it will just draw them to you. To the kids. It’ll only bring them right to you if I stay there.”

“But you’ll be there. That’s what I’m saying. You won’t let anything happen to us. You’re more than capable of protecting us. I know the things you can do. I’ve SEEN what you can do. There’s no doubt in my mind you can keep us safe.”

“I can’t stay with you,” Tyler insists.

“Why? Give me one good reason. One good, valid reason why you have to be the one who does this?”

“Because this is about MY family. Not anyone else’s. My wife. My kids. It’s how it has to be.”

“No,” she remains adamant. “It doesn’t. There is a huge target on your back and an even bigger bounty on your head. Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to lay low? Not take the chance of someone seeing you? Dhaka was bad enough.Every gun there was pointed at you. And with the kind of money and power Mahajan has, Mumbai is going to be even worse.”

“Babe, I know you’re worried and I know you’re scared and that you’d rather me say behind and keep an eye on you and the kids…”

“That’s EXACTLY what I’d rather.”

“But I can’t. I can’t take the chance of bringing them right the fucking doorstep. What am I going to do against twenty, twenty five guys? What chance do I stand? That’s a fucking army.”

“Look what you did in Dhaka. In the apartment when you went to get Ovi. You were able to handle all of them.”

“Those were street thugs. Any merc could have handled them.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you any merc could have handled them, Nik would have got just anyone to do it. But she didn’t. She got YOU for it. So no. Not any merc would have done what you did.”

“There is a big difference between street thugs and who Mahajan has working for him. These guys are ex military. Special forces. They're not some poor, desperate kid off the street trying to impress a drug dealer. These people know what they’re doing. And they’re vicious and they’re dangerous and they’re ruthless. They won’t stop until we’re all dead. And they’ll make me watch. They'll make me watch them kill my kids and you. They’ll make me watch them do sick and twisted shit to you first. Is that what you want? You want me to go through seeing that?”

“No. Of course not! That’s what I want. I would NEVER wish that on you.”

“I can’t take the chance of bringing them right to you and the kids,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“There has to be some way. To keep us safe and YOU safe. There has to be.”

“I know what I’m doing. Why are you doubting? Two days before I leave. You’ve never doubted me before, so why now?”

“I’m not doubting you!” Esme snaps. “I’m scared of losing you! I’m terrified of it! More than I've ever been with any other job you’ve gone on. It’s all I think about. Nik or Koen or Anil showing up and telling me you’re dead. I don’t even want to go to sleep because I dream about it.”

“It’s okay.” He presses a kiss to her temple, then runs a hand over the back of her head, settling it on her shoulder. “Just breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

“And then I wake up and you’re not beside me and for a brief second my brain thinks you’re really dead and I freak out and I panic. It’s why I need you there. In bed. I need to wake up and see you there. Or feel you beside me. Because then I know you’re okay. That you haven’t left yet and you’re not dead…”

“Calm down, Esme. Just calm down. Everything’s okay.”

“Everything is so far from okay. And I feel so helpless. I don’t know what more I can do. To prevent someone showing up and telling me you’re dead. I don’t know how to get you to change your mind about all of this.”

“You can’t. I HAVE to do this. I don't trust anyone else the way I trust myself. This is MY family they’re threatening. My wife and my kids. It’s why it has to be me. And I’m sorry. That it has to be this way. If there was any other way…”

“There HAS to be,” she insists. “There has to be another way.”

“There’s not. I wish there was. But there’s not.”

“This is such bullshit! How much more can one man take? I don’t want this breaking you. And I see it happening and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “

“I’m going to be okay,” Tyler assures her, turning his face into hers and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Hand sliding down from the nape of her neck to the middle of her back, knuckles softly rubbing along her spine. “I’LL be okay.”

“Promise me that if it gets to be too much..if you feel it breaking you...that you’ll walk away. That you’ll let someone else handle things. Because we need you in one piece. Physically AND mentally.”

“If it gets to that, I’ll walk away.”

“Promise me."

“You know my promises are shit. I’ve broken everyone I’ve made in the past six and a half years. What good does it do to promise something when I’m just going to fuck it up? All I’ve done is fuck things up. I started fucking things up seven years ago and I’m still fucking them up now.”

“Don’t say that,” she sniffles, and then knees beside him, curling both arms around his neck. Fingers of her other hand pushing their way into his hair. “You haven’t fucked anything up.”

“I’ve been a shit husband most of the time. I went back to the job without even telling you. I put it before you and the kids. What kind of asshole does that? What kind of asshole says the things I’ve said? Breaks every goddamn promise?”

“Things were bad then,” she reminds him. “We were in a bad place. We both screwed up; it wasn’t just you. We both lied and said shitty things to each other and tried to hurt one another. But that’s not us anymore. We haven’t been that way in a long time.”

“Six months is NOT a long time.”

“Everything is better now,” she continues. “WE’RE better. If we were anything like we were before, we would have fought a million times already. And you’d be drinking constantly and back on Oxy and everything would be falling apart. But those people don’t exist anymore. We left them behind when we left Colorado. We left them there and we’re not going back for them,”

“What if they find us?” Tyler asks.

“They won’t,” she confidently replies. “They’re long gone. We’re more now. So much better. And you can’t tell me you can’t feel that too. How things have changed. How WE’VE changed.”

“I do,” he admits. “Every day gets a little better.”

“Don’t ever say you’ve always fucked things up. Because that’s so far from the truth. You’ve always done whatever you had to to make sure the kids and I are safe and happy and taken care of. You’ve always done what you had to do to provide for us; even if it wasn’t always a decision I agreed with. You’ve always taken care of us. And we no one else can ever say differently.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Or those kids.”

“I know,” she pulls back to look at him, one hand on the back of his head, the other on his cheek. “You’re a good man, Tyler. Even if you don’t think so. You’ve got to let it go. All that guilt and regret and self loathing. All of it. Because you’re not the same person anymore. You’re not the same man that left Austin or the one in Dhaka or the one that existed when we split up for six months. He’s gone. He doesn’t exist anymore. And you’ve got to let that bullshit go. Because you’ve more than redeemed yourself. So if you’re doing this...Mumbai...because you’re looking for some kind of absolution…”

“That is NOT why I’m doing it.”

“...you’re not going to find it. There’s nothing TO find. That moment on the bridge...when Farhad shot you...absolution found YOU. It was over right there and then. You don’t have to keep looking for it. It’s done. There’s nothing more to be forgiven for.”

He swallows noisily around the knot of emotion sitting in this throat; hand resting on the small of her back, lips pressed to her shoulder. Eyes closing in an attempt to hold back the threatening flood of hot, bitter tears.

****

It’s two thirty in the morning and he finds himself awake. Sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by file folders, loose pieces of paper, and his laptop, sipping black coffee in an effort to ward off any grogginess. He’d managed an hour and a half of sleep; a record for the past few days. Woken up by pain and anxiety; chest aching, body covered in a cold sweat, panic gnawing at him and threatening to consume him from the inside out. He laid in bed for another hour; staring up at the ceiling as he attempted to calm himself and will both his mind and body to sleep. Somewhat comforted by the sound of his wife’s soft, rhythmic breathing and the warmth of her body pressed against his. But every time he closed his eyes the images remained; bloody and gruesome and horrific. Eventually it had become too much to bear and staying awake became the only option to preserve what’s left of his sanity. And he’s so focused on the work spread out in front of him and the hotel blueprints on the screen of the laptop, that he doesn’t realize she’s joined him in the kitchen. Not until she’s standing behind his chair; curling an arm around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“What are you doing?” she asks, voice groggy from sleep.

“Just going over some stuff.”

“You’ve been going over it non stop for four days. How many more times do you need to look at it?” There’s no judgment in her voice. No nagging. Just concern.

“Gotta keep my mind busy,” Tyler reasons.

“At two thirty in the morning?” She brushes the tip of her nose against his ear, then kisses it. And he smiles as he lays a hand on her forearm and turns his face into hers and kisses her.

“There can’t be any fuck ups.

“There won’t be,” she assures him. “You don’t fuck up. And you especially won’t fuck up when it’s THIS important. You should be sleeping.”

“So should you. Another nightmare?”

“No. Addie woke up for a feed. She went back to sleep right away. She’s getting bigger. Well bigger for her.” She gives a light laugh. “She just may fit into those newborn clothes soon. It only took seven weeks, but…”

“Yeah, she’s a tiny one.” he smiles. “Just a little peanut.”

“I love when you call her that. Your little peanut. I was kind of worried. When I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Where’d you think I was?”

“You want the rational or irrational answer? It’s so late. Or so early. Whichever way you want to look at it. Do you really need to do this now? You should be upstairs. In bed. With me.” She pecks the corner of his mouth, then presses a series of kisses along his jaw. “I’m needy.”

He grins. “Lately you are, yeah.”

“I can’t help how much I want you, How much I need to be with you. To feel you beside me. INSIDE of me. Who knows how long it's going to be before any of that happens again. You can do this later.”

“Won’t be any time tomorrow. What with Millie’s party and all the people that will be here. And I leave the next day, so…”

“Things aren’t starting until the second day you’re in Mumbai, right? Leave it to then. You don’t need to do this right now. Come to bed, Tyler. And stay there. There’s no reason for this.”

“I can’t sleep. And I don’t want to keep you up by tossing and turning all night.”

“You don’t HAVE to sleep.” Her chin rests on his shoulders, hands over his shoulders and down his chest. “There’s other things that can keep your body...especially your hands...busy. I need this. I need YOU.” Her lips press against the side of his neck, fingertips drifting over each well defined ab muscle, then just above the waist of his sweats. “So come to bed. Please.”

“Just give me a few minutes. Let me just get a couple things done and…”

“No.” She reaches out and snaps the lid on the laptop closed. “Enough. Stop torturing yourself like this. Stop dwelling on it and second guessing yourself and thinking about nothing but the worst case scenarios. Stop. Please. I need you to stop.”

“Esme, I know you mean well. And I know you’re worried about me; trust me when I say I appreciate it and I love you so much for it. But…”

“There’s no ‘buts’. Not a single one. You’ve been over this shit a million times. You don’t need to go over it a million more. It’s become an obsession. This whole goddamn thing. And it’s messing with your brain and it’s turning you into someone I don't even recognize. I NEED you to stop.”

Tyler sighs and leans back in his chair. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean what do I want from you?” She shoves the laptop away and squeezes herself between him and the table, perching herself on the edge. “I want you to stop. I want you to stop obsessing over this and letting it eat you alive. I see what this is doing to you and I hate it and I won’t just sit back and watch it destroy you.”

“I’m trying to protect you. I’m trying to protect my kids.”

“And you ARE. You ARE protecting us. And I trust you to protect us. But it doesn’t have to break you. It doesn’t have to destroy you. It doesn’t have to destroy US. Is that what you want? You want this to ruin us? Everything that we’ve worked so fucking hard for?”

“Of course not, baby. That’s not what I want.”

“You need to step back from this, Tyler. There’s other ways to protect us. You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes. I do.”

“No.” She clasps his face in her hands. “You don’t. There are other ways. You know there are.”

“They have to pay. They DESERVE to pay.”

“And they will. But you don’t have to be the one that does it.”

“I do,” he insists. “You know I do.”

“Why? Do you think you have something to prove? Do you think I’ll somehow think less of you if you DON’T do this? That will never happen. I could never...ever...think less of you. Just hand this over to someone else and stay at Anil’s with me and the kids and protect us that way.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

“I DO understand. I know you think this is up to you. I know you think you should be the one that goes after them because it’s your family that’s being threatened. But I am telling you right now, it does NOT have to be you.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” His palms rest on her thighs, and he places a kiss to each of her knees before looking up at her. “It has to be.”

“This will kill us. This will tear us about.”

“It won’t.”

“It’s already starting to. Because you’re closing yourself off. You won’t let me in. You won’t talk to me about anything, you won’t tell me what’s going on in your head, you won’t...”

“I can’t sleep because I don’t want to sleep,” Tyler confesses. “Because I’ve been having nightmares. Fucking horrible ones.”

“About me?”

“And the kids.”

“When did they start?”

“Soon as we got back. Soon as I started working on all of this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What could you do about it? You can’t stop them. You can’t make them go away. And I see these things happening...the things in the nightmares...every time I close my eyes. And that’s why I CAN’T sleep. Because I don’t want to see all of that.”

“Tyler…” she presses a kiss to his brow and then buries her fingers in his hair, drawing his head down into her. “...I’m sorry…I’m sorry your brain is like this.”

“I can’t make it stop. I can’t get it out of my head. The things they’ll do to you. The things they’ll do to my kids.”

“It’s okay,” she strokes his hair and the back of his neck, feeling the tears that soak straight through her shirt. “It’s going to be okay. YOU’RE going to be okay.”

“That’s why I have to do this. It’s why I need to be the one that goes after them. That kills them. I want to make them suffer. I want them to beg me for mercy and I want to stand there and watch them die. That’s the only thing that’s going to make this all go away. And I’m sorry. That it has to happen this way.”

“I don’t want this breaking you. I don’t want this destroying us.”

“It won’t. I won’t let it. I love you. So fucking much. And that’s why it has to be me.”

“Okay,” Esme relents, then tugs at his hair, encouraging him to look up at her. “ I love you. More than I ever thought I could ever love someone. And I just want you to be safe. I just want you to be okay.”

“I will,” Tyler promises. “I’ll be okay.”

She gives a small smile, then leans over and presses a kiss to his lips. “Come to bed,” she says, as her fingers drift through his hair. “I need to be close to you. As close as possible. Just come to bed.” She kisses him again, and this time when she attempts to pull away, he clamps a hand down on the back of her head, holding her firmly in place. And she can taste the salt of his tears on his lips as the kiss deepens. Becoming urgent. Needy. Desperate.

A kiss filled with fear. The worry that neither of them will get that chance...that kind of kiss...again.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some smut

The minute she opens her eyes it’s there. The enormous weight of the situation and the bitter realization that it isn’t just some horrible nightmare. An overwhelming sense of melancholy that not even the usual comforts can break through. Not the sound or the smell of the ocean or the cool, refreshing breeze that flutters the curtains, or even the brilliant sunrise; hues of gold and orange that paint the sky and reflect off the water. It’s normally enough -sights, sounds, smell- to alleviate even the worst of moods; five minutes outside breathing in the salty air and listening to the sound of the waves doing wonders for the mind, body, and soul. 

Even in her sleep she finds no rest or reprieve from the enormity of it all. Plagued by vivid and torturous nightmares; all of the worst possible case scenarios mixing together. The fear of the unknown and the total loss of control is both staggering and all consuming. Taking up every waking moment of the day despite trying to keep it together for the sake of her children. They’re the one bright spot; their innocent and their pure unadulterated faith and trust in both of their parents. Truly believing that their upcoming trip to India is nothing more just that. A chance to see where Ovi was born and spent the first fourteen years of his life. They somehow remain oblivious to all the tension, stress, and worry that inhabit their parents and control their every decision and thoughts. They’re happy and carefree and if suffering in silence guarantees they’ll stay that way, it's a small price to pay.

The tears are never far away. She feels them now; the incessant prick of them hot and bitter. It’s been a struggle to keep them at bay. The smallest of things bringing them on; the most innocent of comments or lightest of jokes somehow cutting straight to the bone and shattering an already aching heart. Many times in the past four days she’s had to run away and hide. Locking herself in the kitchen pantry or the laundry room or one of the bathrooms; sitting on the floor and crying. Overwhelmed by the situation at hand and the multitude of emotions wrapped up in it. Mentally exhausted trying to hold it together for the sake of her family while everything around her is falling apart.

For now she manages to fight back. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, Pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes and waiting for the tightening her chest and the uneasiness in her stomach to settle before turning her head to watch Tyler as he sleeps. His body and mind finally letting him rest; allowing him to doze off shortly before three thirty in the morning. Satisfied and spent after a passionate round of love making; slow and attention yet intense in its own way. Those long, soft kisses that curl your toes and take your breath away. Hands and mouths wandering and exploring before finally giving in to those pangs of want and need; fuelled by lust, fear, and desperation. Leaving their bodies heaving for breath and slicked with sweat. No words spoken as his hand combed through her hair and toyed with those long, dark tresses; her head resting on his chest and her fingers tracing the tattoos and scars that adorn his torso. 

Afterwards, she’d been the one that had struggled to fall asleep. Normally his mere presence in bed beside her would do the trick. Being able to smell him and hear him breathe and the sound of sheets rustling as he moves. But even wrapped up in those strong, powerful arms hadn’t been enough. Nor had the presence of his lips against the back of her neck, each exhale warm and fluttering her hair.

He looks much younger when he sleeps; when that tortured and fractured mine stops torturing him and finally lets him rest. On his stomach with his forearm under his pillow and his head turned towards her, his features softer and more relaxed. No furrows in the brow or lines at the corners of his eyes. No clenched jaw or or tightly pursed lips or tense shoulders. And while he’d vehemently argue and protest her use of the word, he IS beautiful. Everything that is both stunning AND masculine about him; rough skin and ink and scars mixing together with impossibly long, dark eyelashes and smooth, pink lips. And he’s made even more attractive by the beauty she knows exists inside of him. Who he is when they’re alone or he’s with his children; this strong, powerful man that still somehow manages to be so loving and gentle. Who is fiercely loyal and unwaveringly faithful and ferociously protective. Who isn’t afraid to admit -to anyone who will listen- the depth of his love for his wife and his kids and who, despite years of betrayal and a childhood wrought with abuse, trusts her with everything he is and everything he has. He carries an enormous heart on his sleeve yet very rarely allows himself to be vulnerable and never fully realizes just how loved he actually is. Constantly questioning why she stays; harboring guilt and regret for things he’s said or done when times have been their toughest and never believing that he’s worthy of a good life. It’s all of those things that make him who he is. All the flaws and imperfections that in fact, make him so perfect.

The tears threaten once again and she rolls away; onto her side to face the wall to wall sliding glass doors. Attempting to concentrate on something...anything...other than the sense of impending doom and misery. She’s never been THIS affected by any of the jobs he’s taken since his first official return to the game. It’s been five and a half years since she was pregnant with the twins and he’d decided -without even discussing it with her- to get back into things. There’s always worry and fear connecting with that line of work; you never know if when they talk out the door if they’re going to walk back in. But this fear and concern is on a whole new level. All consuming and mind numbing. Thoughts so dark and so bleak that she’s ashamed for even harbouring them. As if merely thinking them, let alone saying them, will actually cause them to happen. 

She both feels and hears him move behind him. The small groan he gives when he moves onto his side and the shifting and dipping of the mattress under his weight. The soft rustle of bare skin against crisp sheets as he slides closer to her, followed by one of those thick, muscular arms being draped over her hip; beard rough against her skin, lips placing soft kisses along her shoulders. His fingertips pushing hair away from the back of her neck; the callus on his ‘trigger finger’ scraping against her flesh. And her eyes close and her head falls forward; a long, soft sigh escaping her lips when his mouth finds the nape of her neck. He knows every spot; every little magical area that when kissed or licked or sucked -or even bitten- drives her absolutely insane. Even in Dhaka when there’d been no telling what -if anything-would transpire between them, he’d taken his time and explored every inch of her in a way no man had ever done before. 

His arms now slides under hers; palm briefly sitting at her waist before slipping up the front of her t-shirt and then cupping one of her breasts. Her sigh much louder and longer when he gently squeezes and then brushes his thumb across the nipple.

“Baby.” she breathes, scraping her fingernails along his forearm.

“Hmm?”

“The kids are going to be up soon.” It’s a half-hearted argument. Not even a proper protest. Not when her nipples are hardening under her touch and her insides pulsate and quiver at the sensation of his mouth against the back of her neck.

“Yeah? And?”

“You really want them running in here and seeing...you know…”

“We’ll hear them coming.”

She opens her mouth to debate but all that comes out is a pleasured whimper when he takes one nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugs and pinches at it, Teeth nipping at the sensitive spot just below her ear. The gentler he is, the more it turns her on; a far cry from the usual roughness and aggression that she prefers. That warm and ache building between her legs and growing stronger with each feathery brush of his lips against her shoulder and the feel of his breath against her skin; callused palm impossibly delicate as it fondles one breasts, then the other. When she feels the scrape of his beard against her ear followed by the tip of his tongue tracing over every inner and outer edge, she can’t stop the groan that escapes her mouth or the way her ass presses back against his already straining erection; shivering against him when his fingertips slowly trail down her body. Beginning at the top of her sternum and ending at the waistband of her sleep shorts; quickly untying the bow that keeps them tight against her body and sliding his hand down the front of them. And when his palm finds her already hot and wet, a low groan of approval rumbles deep within his chest. 

“Tyler…” she breathes, when two of his fingers push through the moist folks and press against her clit. Eyes closing and her head falling back against his shoulder when his teeth nibble a path along the side of her throat, lightly biting down when he pushes his fingers inside of her. Working them as he would his cock; slow, deep thrusts that have her rubbing her ass against him, his thumb rubbing at her clit.

“Fuck my fingers,” he orders, voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck them.”

She beards down on them; taking them as deep as she possibly can. Biting down on her bottom lip in an effort to rein in the noises that threaten to escape her mouth. His lips and his teeth continuing the slow torture on her shoulders and the side of her neck as she moves against those thick digits buried inside of her. His free hand squeezes into the limited space between their bodies; reaching into his sweats to free his cock. And she feels the press of it against her cloth covered ass; the way he rocks his hips into her and groans at the friction against his aching cock. His breath quickening with every movement he makes, thumb continuing to rub her clit.

“Jerk me off.”

He speaks through gritted teeth, then releases the grip on his erection and grabs her hand, pulling her arm back towards him. A long, drawn out “Fuck” tumbling from his mouth when those soft, mumble fingers curl around his shaft. Sweat gathering at his temples and along his hairline as her hand works him; alternating between slow, firm tugs and rapid jerks as she continues to fuck his fingers. Eyes closed and brow resting against the back of her head; listening to all of her choked moans and whimpers and the way she breaches his names over and over again. Taking the lobe of her ear between his teeth and biting down just as she comes; loving the way her entire body seizes up and he feels the warm, slick moisture that bathes his fingers and his palms. His own release not far behind; a long, low growl in her ear as spurts of cum dampen the fabric of her shorts and the strip exposed skin between them and her shirt, and the sheets underneath. Still shuddering and panting when he presses a kiss to her shoulder and removes his fingers from inside of her. A palm coming to rest on her stomach, pulling her tightly against him.

****

“It’s going to be a long day,” Esme sighs, as she sits at the table on the back patio; Addie against her chest as she feeds. It’s seven thirty in the morning and the other four kids are still asleep; even Millie who rarely misses a Saturday morning with her father.

Tyler nods in agreement as he steps out of the house, setting a mug of coffee down at the stop across from her, then standing behind her chair and placing a cup of tea where she can easily reach it. 

It’s little moments like that that make her love him even more. Those small things he does without ever having to be asked. It started with Millie; always bringing her something to eat and drink while the baby fed, or even draping a blanket or one of his sweaters around her shoulders so she wouldn’t get cold and would be more comfortable. Sometimes even brushing her hair or rubbing her feet. Things you wouldn’t expect from someone like him. 

“You going to be okay?” she asks. “With all those people here? I know you don’t like strangers all up in your personal space. Or in your happy place.”

His hands are on her shoulders as he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll deal.”

“If you have to take a break, no one will fault you for that. If you get too overwhelmed or panicky..”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her, then runs a hand over Addie’s hair; cradling the back of her head in his palm, thumb brushing against her forehead.

Esme tilts her head back and smiles up at him, noticing the tears in his eyes and the pain that registers on his face. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she.”

“Like her mom,” he says, and gives a small smile before placing a kiss on her temple.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she comments, watching him as he heads to the other side of the table. Admiring every tattoo and scar, every hard muscle and the bit of extra weight that has gathered just above his hips. And the very present ‘happy trail’ that begins just below his navel and disappears into a pair of low slung jeans. He’s heavier now; almost a forty pound difference since Dhaka. The lines of his waist and hips no longer as prominent, but every inch of him still so sexy.

“What’s that?”

“Keep your pants on. I don’t know how you wear your pants and your shorts like that. I don’t know how you don’t lose them.”

“Luck,” he grins, and takes a seat across from her.

“Must be,” she says, and places both feet in his lap. One of his hands moving below the table to lightly massage them, starting with each toe. “I can’t believe Millie’s six. Where did the last six years go?”

“I dunno. It’s hard to believe. Doesn’t seem that long ago that we found out about her. That you were telling me you were pregnant with her.”

“You handled it a lot better than I thought you would. I thought for sure you were going to flip your shit. What a thing to happen when you’re already going through so much crap. Not exactly what you needed added to your plate, huh?”

“If you ask me, that was the only good thing that come out of that whole fucking mess. Other than waking up for a coma and seeing you. I thought I was imagining it. Or maybe dreaming or hallucinating. Those were some pretty hard core drugs they had me on. It was a relief when I found it was real. That YOU were real.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up. I knew how scared you’d be. How confused. I didn’t want you to go through that by yourself.” 

She also hadn’t wanted him to die alone. All of the doctors and nurses had prepared her for that; convincing her that, despite their best efforts and all her hopes and prayers, his death would be the ONLY outcome.

“I was worried how you’d react,” she continues. “When you were more lucid. I thought maybe you’d be freaked out that I stuck around. That you’d think I was some kind of weirdo stalker or something.”

“Nah. I was happy. Pretty good ending to a shitty fucking experience. Beautiful woman holding your hand and kissing you and crying over you. I definitely wasn’t complaining.”

“It was still a lot to go through. And then to find you you’re having a baby on top of it? Most guys would have freaked out and cut ties. Their booty call or fuck buddy...or whatever the hell I was...telling them they're pregnant?”

“You were more than those things,” Tyler says. “Even then. And I’m not most guys.”

“No,” Esme smiles. “You’re not.”

“I still can’t believe you actually thought I’d let you walk away. That I’d be okay with you fucking off back to the states with my kid.”

“I can’t believe you had the balls to ask if it was yours,” she counters.

“Yeah, that was not one of my better moments. I’m surprised you didn’t punch me in the face. Or the throat.”

“I understood where you were coming from. What did we really know about each other? Other than we both had shitty exes and a lot of baggage? And no Tyler; favourite sex positions do NOT count as knowing someone. Regardless of what you think.”

“I told you about Austin,” he reminds her. “I didn’t shy away from telling you about him.”

“But we didn’t really know each other. You can’t really know someone after only five days. And you probably thought that if I fucked you that easily, I was more than likely fucking other guys too.”

“That is not what I thought. At all.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I can only imagine the impression I made; jumping into bed with you THAT easily. Wasn’t exactly a slow burn, was it.”

He grins. “No. It definitely wasn’t. But I didn’t think it was a bunch of guys. A guy. I had a time believing you were single. Someone that looks like you? Fucks like you? It was hard to believe someone hadn’t scooped you up.”

“Oh someone did. He just turned out to be a massive prick. But there was no one else. Just you.”

“I shouldn’t have asked if it was mine. That was a dick move.”

“It was a reasonable question. And other than that, you took it well. I was more freaked out than you were.”

“Was it really that much of a surprise? I think we should have seen that coming.”

“Yeah, the absence of protection should have been our first clue that something was going to go wrong.”

“Was it really that wrong though? She’s pretty much the best thing that came out of Dhaka. I’d take another bullet to the neck if it meant she’d be here.”

“I remember when the nurse gave her to you. In the delivery room. When she said ‘here you go, daddy’ and put Millie in your arms.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “And I cried.”

“And you cried,” Emse confirms with a smile. “And I remember thinking how beautiful it was. How beautiful YOU were. How you looked at her with so much and so much awe. Like you couldn’t believe that she was real. That she was here.”

“I never thought I’d get that change again. To be a dad. Almost seemed too good to be true. That someone like me would be given someone like her.”

“She was so beautiful,” Esme recalls. “She IS beautiful. Remember how much hair she had? No wonder I’d had heartburn so bad when I was pregnant; all that hair. She looked so much like you even then. All the nurses said so. EVERYONE said so. They still do. There’s no way you could ever deny here, that’s for sure.

“I remember thinking how tiny she was. And then Addie came alone. Now THAT’S tiny.”

“She is a wee one,” Esme agrees, and smiles down at the baby that feeds contently at her breast. “Daddy’s little peanut.”

Tyler smiles at that.

“You realize that you have eighteen years of calling her that ahead of you, right?”

“Eighteen years? I’m going to still call her that when she has her own kids. She’s always going to be tiny. Like her mom. She’ll always be my little peanut.”

“I think you already have daddy wrapped around your little finger,” she addresses the baby. “You and your big sister. He doesn’t stand a chance against the two of you. He’ll wear that tiara one day. You two will get your way.”

He smirks.

“You’ll break one of these days, “ Esme tells him. “You won’t be able to fight it when it’s the two of them ganging up on you. When Addie is Millie’s age and she’s got you totally doting on her. And don’t even try and deny it. You are going to spoil her rotten.”

He gives a small smile. “I hope I get that chance. That I get to see her when she’s Millie’s age.”

“You will,” she assures him, hoping she sounds more confident than she feels. “Five years from you, you and I will wake up and we’ll sit out here. Just like this. And we’ll talk about all of this. About how scared we were. How we got through it. How you took care of things. Same way we sometimes sit here and talk about Dhaka; how we never thought we’d get through that. We’ll get through Mumbai, too.”

“I hope so, babe.”

“You’re too stubborn to die, remember? And I won’t let you anyway. I’m not letting you get away that easy. You’ve got at least another fifty years with me. We’ve got children to watch get married and have their own kids. Grandchildren to spoil. I can’t do all that by myself. It wouldn’t be much fun without you. It’s going to be okay. WE’RE going to be okay.”

“Yeah, we will,” he agrees, and gives her foot a tight squeeze. The lump of emotion in his throat and the tears in his eyes betraying him. Giving away his true feelings. His worst fears.

****

It’s been easier to deal with than he’d expected. Thirty five and six year olds and their respective parents -mostly mothers- all descending on his ‘happy place’. Being outside has helped. Laughter and shrieks and conversations float on the breeze as opposed to being trapped between four walls; the accompanying volume not as loud or as grating. Thankful to be the one placed on ‘kid duty’; able to focus solely on supervising his own five while not having to be the parent that socializes. That isn’t his comfort zone. Not a fan of mindless, useless chit chat; unable to form even the smallest and most innocent of connections with just anyone. Too many years living in self imposed solitude; most of his days spent in a haze brought on by booze and pain meds, or passed out entirely. When he hadn’t succumbed to those vices, he was working; travelling to all corners of the world to tend whatever Nik brought to him. His past makes it hard to make friends; he doesn’t have the energy to carry on an elaborate life about what he does -or did- for a living, nor does he trust anyone enough to be fully honest about it. So he sticks to himself. Choosing who he wants to be surrounded by. There’s very few people he trusts and he prefers it that way. Content with the security and the comfort that being in his own home with his family provides him with.

There’s been very few anxious moments. What normally would trigger an ‘episode’ have actually been stabilizers. Being able to concentrate on simple tasks at hand, with all the noise and activity in the background, has effectively lessened the stress and the worry. He hasn’t been dwelling on his next day's departure; on how he’s going to keep it together when hugging and kissing his kids goodbye. Wanting them to hang on to the belief that India is nothing more than just a family trip. They’re too young to know the truth; he wants them to stay as pure and innocent for as long as they possibly can. And he hasn’t been hyperfixating on the mission itself. Not zoning out or easily distracted by thoughts of the job; of hotel blueprints and prison aerial shots or the list of names permanently etched in his mind. 

It lingers. The details he’s still trying to piece together on how to carry things out. The fear that he’ll never see his family again. The worry that whatever he does won’t be enough and Mahajan’s people will get to his wife and kids. But it’s now as powerful and as suffocating as it was before.

“I think you have some competition.”

He glances up from the task at hand -grilling hamburgers and hot dogs for the hordes of children and their guardians- as Andy approaches. It had been a relief when he and Zeke had shown up. He genuinely likes the guy. He’s easy to talk to; laid back, friendly, non judgmental. Used to being the one that’s constantly looked down upon. Other than Koen and Rata, he’s never really had friends that haven’t been mercs. It’s always just been easier to surround himself with people who understood the life and lived it themselves.

Andy -quite the sight in neon orange shorts and a tropical themed shirt- tips his bottle of beer in the direction of the pool, where Esme sits in one of the lounge chairs with Zeke in her lap. A brilliant smile on her face as he gently plays with her hair and her necklace and can’t resist touching her face or hugging her or kissing her cheeks. If anyone was MADE to be a mother, it’s her. While slightly high strung and possessing fragile patience, her knack of nurturing and loving is second to none. So gentle and so compassionate that it makes it hard to comprehend what she used to do for a living. Unlike her time on the job, everything she does now -especially with her kids and others- is tender and genuine and always done with the best of intentions.

“Can’t say I blame him,” Tyler grins, and sips his own beer. “He’s got good taste. I’d sit in her lap and play with her hair and kiss and hug her too if she’d let me.”

Andy laughs at that. “She’s good with him. His own mother isn’t that...what’s the word...accepting. She loves her son, don’t get me wrong. But it’s been hard on her. Dealing with this life. Even all these years later. She’s a good woman, but not a gentle woman, If that makes sense.

Tyler nods. He hears the pain in the man’s voice; sees it on his face. Not for his son; there’s nothing but pride and love and adoration written all over his face when he’s with Zeke. But it’s hard to accept when someone you love doesn’t come close to living up to your expectations of them. He’s one of the lucky ones. Esme’s not perfect. Neither is he. Not by a long shot. But she’s perfect for him. And their kids.

“How long HAVE you two been together?” Andy asks. “If I’m being too personal or nosy…”

“You’re fine. Six and a half years. Married. Together for almost seven.”

“Short engagement, huh?”

“Wasn’t much of one. I said ‘marry me’ and she said ‘okay’ and that was it. Month later, that’s exactly what we did. We didn’t know each other that long. We met under some pretty crazy circumstances. I guess I knew if she could stick around through all of that and still look at me the way she did, she’d be able to last fifty or so years. Smartest things I’ve ever did; holding onto her.”

It would have been so easy to get her to leave. To shut her out and treat her horrible so she’d make the decision to abandon him and go back to the States. To forget about him. And the guy that existed before her...the one that just existed just minutes before he spotted her on his front porch...would have done just that. He would have fought back against forming any sort of connection outside of sex and would have refused to feel anything other than carnal want and need. But somewhere between her showing at the shack and putting her fingers in his neck to keep him alive, everything changed. The guy would have hurt her -as a way of protecting her from his bullshit- ceased to exist.

“And you met through work?” Andy inquires.

Tyler nods. “We were contracted to the same job. To work together. Ended up in Bangladesh mixed up in some wild shit.” Normally it would make him anxious to even mention Dhaka; especially to someone outside of the game. But it’s easy to talk to Andy. His instincts telling him that he’s trustworthy; the last person to look down on him for his choice of profession.

“You know,” Andy begins slowly, carefully. “There’s a rumour going around.”

“About?”

“You. What you used to do for a living. What you do now.”

Tyler smirks. “There is, is there? What’s the rumour?”

“You know how all the other parents are. How carry they are; how judgy. All holier than thou.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty huge assholes that’s for sure.”

“So I’m not saying I believe it. I’m the type that goes straight to the source. I like you; you’re a good guy. You got a decent head on your shoulders and you’re raising good kids. Damn good kids. And you seem like you’re pretty honest and straightforward about things. You don’t like bullshit and you don’t give out bullshit of your own.”

“I have no time or tolerance for it. So what’s the rumour?”

“That you’re a hit man.”

Tyler laughs, bottle pressed against his lips.

“Is that a maybe or a yes or a no…”

“I’m not a hit man, mate,” he says, and takes a swallow of beer.

“It sounded ridiculous to me. But sometimes the most ridiculous of stories are the real ones. And what with the size of you and all the scars and..,.”

“I’m a mercenary.” It just rolls off the tongue so easily, It’s not something he tells other people. Truth is often stranger than fiction, and his truth is hard to swallow and understand. Most don’t get it; the danger, the unpredictability, the things he does for money. But it’s who he is. What he’s good at. Damn good at. And he watches Andy’s reaction; that blank yet shocked look, mouth slightly agape. The way his eyes eventually widen and he gives a long, slow nod.

“You’re not joking, are you.”

Tyler shakes his head. “Been doing it a long time now. It’s who I am.”

“PART of who you are,” Andy corrects.

Tyler grins. “You sound like my wife.”

“You’re more than what you do for a living. I mean, you have all this...” he nods at the house, then the pool, then towards the beach. “...you have a wife and kids. So you’re not just your job.”

“You don't seem too put off by it. Hearing that I kill people for money.”

“I’m sure that’s not ALL you do. I mean, you kill people to help other people, yeah?”

“Most of the time. They’re usually people making life difficult for others. Hurting them. I’ve taken out more than a few child traffickers, big name molesters, that sort of thing. Not one person I’ve killed hasn’t deserved it.”

“So basically you’re taking out the trash.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“And your wife? She does that too? You said you met working together. Does that mean…”

“No. She’s not a merc. She used to work alongside guys like me. Used to get us information we need. After that, her job was done. She didn’t get her hands dirty. Not in the same way I do. And she hasn’t done it in a long time. She gave it up when we found out Millie was on the way. Once we got married and started having a family, that was it for her. She wanted to just be a wife and a mother.”

“And the money? It’s good?”

Depends who hires me. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s fucking amazing. Every so often you get someone that totally screws you and doesn’t pay you what you agreed on. Or not at all.”

“Well that’s some bullshit,” Andy declares.

Tyler nods in agreement.

“How’d you ever get involved in something like that?”

“Buddy of mine from the military got mixed up in it. Hooked me up after I left the SASR. It’s all I’ve ever known; guns, combat, that sort of shit. Seemed like a perfect fit. I left it behind a couple times; for different reasons. But I always go back.”

“How do you balance it? That kind of job with this kind of life? A wife and kids and two dogs and all of that?”

“Two different lives, two different guys. Or at least that’s how I try to do it.”

“But don’t you worry? Every time you leave? I mean, it’s dangerous, yeah? Don’t you worry about never coming back’? About leaving your wife and kids behind?”

“Every time I walk out the door mate. Every single goddamn time. But my track record for walking back in is a hundred percent so far and I’m determined to keep it that way.”

“Look at you,” Esme comments as she steps up onto the patio. “Being friends and shit. I hope he’s being at least civil to you, Andy.” she rubs him on the back. “Tyler’s not used to socializing. He’s a bit of a hermit.”

“He’s been on his best behaviour,” Andy assures her. “I saw you getting all loved up on.”

“I was. He’s just so…” she sighs. “...sweet and so perfect and gives the best hugs. If I could keep him, I would.”

“I don’t think he’d argue. He seems quite smitten.”

“Well I am too. He’s beautiful and precious. And he -and you- are welcome here any time. My brother wants to know if it’s okay to take him down to the water. Millie and the twins are down there with Ovi and they want to play with Zeke. Kyle’s a fireman, so he’d be in good hands.”

“I’ll go and get his trunks and his life jacket. He won’t like being down by the water and not going in it.” Andy claps Tyler on the shoulder. “You need to tell me some stories. I’m sure you’ve got some pretty good ones.”

“I’ve got a few,” he confirms.

“I’m looking forward to hearing them.” Andy presses a kiss to Esme’s cheek, then heads for the stairs.

“He’s such a sweet man,” she says, as she watches him go. “How can people be so bitchy to him and Zeke when they’re both so amazing?”

“People are dicks,” Tyler reasons, and then back against the wall next to the barbecue. “I was getting jealous,” he chides. “Seeing you get all that attention.”

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re still my favorite hug and kiss. You always will be.” She stands in front of him, hands on his sides. Standing on her tiptoes when he leans down to press a kiss to her lips. “You having fun playing with your meat?”

He smirks, hands resting on her hips. “It’s much more fun when you play with it.”

“Like this morning, you mean.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“That was kind of fun.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, it was A LOT of fun,” she declares, and then giggles when his hands slide down onto her ass, pulling her tightly against him as he kisses her once more. Longer this time; the soft yet delicious movement of closed mouth upon closed mouth. “You’re going to make all the thirsty moms jealous,” she says. “Notice how many of them stuck around? I highly doubt it’s just to watch their kids.”

“Some of them are watching right now, actually.”

“Let them. They’re just upset it’s not their asses you have your hands on. And speaking of jealous, thirsty people…”

“I don’t think I like where this is going…”

“Nik’s here. She came with Yaz and Siobhan. Who, by the way, has the most adorable baby bump I’ve ever seen. It actually makes me miss all of mine. Except for maybe Declan. That kid was huge even when he was just a bump.”

“You looked beautiful every time.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re the one responsible for those baby bumps. You used to have the goofiest grin on your face when people would touch all the bumps. Like you were just so damn proud of your handiwork.”

“I was proud. Especially with the twins. Two in one shot? I’m a fucking legend. And why would I care? That Nik’s here?”

“Because Nik and you aren’t exactly on the best terms and I really don’t want you two going at each other at our daughter’s birthday party.”

“I’d never do that to Millie. You know that.”

“Doesn’t mean Nik won’t. If she engages with you, can you try and stay calm? I know it’s not easy and she really tries her hardest to get your skin, but you’d not let her…”

“I won’t,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll behave.”

“Good. Thank you. I am kinda worried about how it’s going to go when she sees Kyle and Allison together. That’s not going to go over well, is it.”

“Probably not.”

“Maybe I’ll try and cut things off at the pass. Keep Nik and Kyle away from each other. She’s not above causing a big old thing in front of everyone. And that’s the last thing I want. Especially at Millie’s party. You’re doing okay?” Her hands rub his sides. “You’re hanging in there?”

“Is that really why you came up here? To check on me?”

“Maybe…”

Tyler grins and pecks her lips. “I’m fine. Everything’s good.”

“I’m proud of you. I know it’s not easy for you; having all these people here and getting out of your comfort zone. It’s progress for you. Very good progress. And it’s especially not easy when we have to pretend to be happy and act like nothing’s wrong and…”

He silences her with a kiss; hands leaving her ass in favour of cradling her face. And she’s grinning when he eventually pulls away, eyes sparkling up at him.

“Was that for my benefit or…?”

“A little,” he says. “But some of it was for the moms that are watching us so I’d give them something to watch.”

“You could always turn around and show them your butt,” she teases, her hands moving down to tightly squeeze his ass. “You could bounce a quarter off that thing, you know.”

“Only you’re allowed to do that.”

“It better stay that way. For just my enjoyment.”

“Always will.” he assures her, and pecks her lips.

“I’m going to go and prevent Nik and Kyle from killing each other. You stay here and keep playing with your meat,”

“Will you play with it later?”

She’s grinning over her shoulder as she walks away. “Maybe.”

****

“It definitely went better than I expected it to,” Esme comments hours later, as they lay on their backs, side by side, on a blanket stretched across a swath of sand. All five children fast asleep inside; worn out from an exciting day spent in the sun. Millie over the moon that her party had gone well and she’d been able to show off her new puppy to all of her jealous friends. It had been a success; her happiness and the pure joy that radiated from her making all the planning, hard work, and intensive clean up, all worth it.

“What DID you expect?” Tyler asks.

“Thirty five and six year olds? I expected it to be utter freaking chaos. But it wasn’t THAT bad. And Millie was so happy. Did you see her face? She couldn’t stop smiling the whole time. She’s so full of light and love and she just so...I don’t know...so…”

“Beautiful?”

“Yeah. She’s that too. She’s just so passionate. She feels so much. And so deep. She’s so much like you in that respect.”

He frowns as he turns his head to look at her. “How you figure?”

“You have so much love inside of you. So many emotions. You just don’t show them and she lets them all out. And we let her. We don’t expect her to bottle it all up and hide it away. We just let her be who she is. We don’t fault her for being...well...being her.”

“Why would we? She’s six. She’s just a little kid.”

“A little kid with big emotions. She’s basically the kid you could have been if you were allowed to be like that.”

He nods in agreement.

“Not that you turned out bad or anything,” she rolls onto her stomach, forearms over each other, chin resting them as she looks at him. “You turned out pretty damn good actually. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you do have your moments where you drive me batshit insane.”

Tyler grins. “I do, do I?”

“Mm...hmm. Like when you hold everything in because you think it’s some way of protecting me, when in fact, it’s just annoying the shit out of me.”

“Everything I do is to protect you. You know that.”

“Sometimes I don’t need protecting. Sometimes what I need is you to stop worrying about me so much and actually let me in. You’d think after almost seven years…”

“It’s not that easy. I wish it was. And I don’t mean to be that way.”

“I know it’s hard for you. Letting that part of yourself go. But it’s only hurting you, Tyler. And sometimes it even hurts us. And I know that’s the last thing you want.”

“It is,” he agrees. “It definitely is.”

“I’ll break you yet,” she declares, and reaches out to lay a hand on the side of his face, turning it towards her. “You okay?”

“Not really. No.” he admits.

“Do you want to talk about it or…”

He moves onto his side, fingers pushing hair behind her ear before running his hand over her shoulder and down her back; coming to rest just above her ass. “I don’t want tomorrow to be the last time I ever see you or my kids.”

“It won’t be.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you. Because I know how hard you fight. How resilient you are. How damn stubborn,” she presses a kiss to his lips. “Because you survived Dhaka. You survived coding TWICE at the hospital. You’re strong. The strongest person I’ve ever known.”

“I don’t feel so strong right about now.”

“But you ARE. You always have been. And I’m not just talking about physical strength, either. You do battle with your mind every day. And you win. Now THAT’S strength.”

“You think way too highly of me.”

“Well I love you. Very much. You’re my favorite person in the entire world. You always have been. You’re tough and you’re smart and you’re insanely good looking and sexy and you’ve helped me make five beautiful children. We’ve had a good life so far.”

“Yeah,” Tyler smiles. “We have.”

“And we’ve got more life together ahead of us. This isn’t how this is going to the end. Mumbai. It’s not going to be how WE end.”

“I hope you’re right,”

“I am. Besides, the world can’t get rid of you that easily, Tyler Rake. A lot of people have tried to get rid of you, but none of them managed to do it. Your track record for survival is one hundred percent. Maybe you’re like a cat. You have nine lives. Which means you’ve probably got...I don’t know...seven left?”

“Seven? That’s being generous. I was thinking four.”

“Well I’m not counting things that could have killed you before we met. So your number might be more accurate. But that means you still have five left and that’s pretty good.”

“This job will probably cost me three of them.”

“So that still leaves two. Which means this job won’t be the one that kills you. After this, things will be easier. You won’t have to go out there as much. You can stay home more. Spend time with your kids. Watch them grow up. It will be nice, don’t you think? Being able to see that? See them grow up? See what kinds of adults they’ll turn into it? What kind of lives they’ll have?”

“Can we concentrate on getting to double digits first? Them being adults is a long way away.”

“Millie as preteen! Oh god. She’s already a drama queen. She’s going to be unbearable; I just know it. And she’s going to be tall and lanky and beautiful and all the boys are going to be after her. I am not ready for that. Her and boys.”

“That’s my worst fear,” Tyler declares. “Her and boys.”

“I know. You don’t like thinking about your little girl like that. She’s always going to love you the most, though. There’s never going to be another guy in the world she loves more than you. She’s like me in that way. There’s no other boy I love that much, either.”

Smiling, he lays a hand on the back of her head and kisses her. “For the record, you’re my favorite human being, too. You have been for the last seven years.”

“Even in Dhaka?”

“Even then. As soon as you stepped on my porch, that was it. I knew I was done. Second you looked at me, I knew I was in for a whole world of trouble. All five feet, hundred and ten pounds of trouble.”

“I knew as soon as I saw those eyes I was fucked,” she says. “I was just hoping it would be in a good way,”

He grins. “You WERE fucked in a good way. In a very good way.”

“I was,” she giggles. “I still am. You make my life very interesting. To say the least. You’re frustrating and you’re exhausting and some days I want to strangle you. But I love you ALL the days. That never changes.”

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

“And you WILL get through this. I know you will. You’ll do whatever it takes to get through it. Because that’s who you are. You don’t give in and you don’t give up.. You don’t break. And Mahajan is going to find all that out real quick and he’s going to regret ever crossing you. Promise me you’ll make him pay. That you’ll make them ALL pay.”

“I promise you,” he says, then presses a kiss to her forehead and wraps both arms around her. Pulling her tightly against him; eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of her head. Wishing he could hold her like that forever.


	54. Chapter 54

The hours go by way too fast.

He’s tried to spend every possible moment with them. Devoting his attention, yet his very limited time, from the second he opened eyes and found four little -and still sleeping- bodies crowded around him. Two pressed against his sides, one laying across his shin and effectively pinning him down, the fourth right on top of him with their face nestled in the spot between his neck and shoulder. Some time in the middle of the night they must have snuck in -or their mother had carried them in- and he’d been none the wiser. A rare, deep, comfortable sleep somehow finding him on quite possibly the most stressful night of his life. Never waking once due to nightmares of pain, or even when four of his five children either crept into bed with him or were placed there. And for an hour he hadn’t dared to disturb them; content with just watching them sleep and gently running his fingers through their hair and kissing the cheeks and foreheads of those he could reach. Listening to their soft, rhythmic breathing and feeling their bodies gently rising and falling against him. Marvelling at not only how beautiful and perfect they are, but the fact that someone like him -with all his past mistakes and bad decisions and inner demons- could ever be given, or entrusted with, such amazing little human beings.

He let them eat leftover birthday care and ice cream for breakfast. Managing borderline genuine laughs and smiles as he listened to them gush about it being ‘the best Sunday morning EVER’ and their excited, vividly detailed recap of yesterday’s events and the week they’d had at school. Heart crumbling with each passing second, wanting nothing more than to either stop the clock, or simply wake up and discover that all of it -Mahajan, the threats against his family, the mission in Mumbai- had been nothing more than a horrible, fucked up dream. When they weren’t paying attention, he turned on the recorder on his phone; taking in every giggle and their little voices. There’s no greater, more beautiful sound than your own kids’ laughter; second to only how it sounds when they call him daddy. It will be awhile before he hears it again in person. If he even gets the chance at all. 

That’s the bitter, heartbreaking realization. He may never get these moments again; it could be the last lazy Sunday they have together. Their last breakfast on the back patio. The last time he gets to ask them how their week at school went. It all seems so simple. So mundane. Things that he’s often guilty of taking for granted that he’ll miss so much if he never gets to experience them again; whether it be through their demise or his own. If it’s going to happen, he prays it’s the latter. That they’ll get the opportunity to grow up and live long, great lives. That their mother won’t have to endure a single second, never mind a lifetime, without any of them. She’d survive his passing. She’d grieve. Long and hard. But one day she’d likely move on; find someone that loves her and the kids and will do anything to make them happy. But she’d never get over losing one of her babies, never mind all of them. It would break her. Right down to her very soul. And she’d recover from it.

He took them swimming and surfing. Two hours in the water followed by a walk along the beach looking for shells and rocks and pieces of beach glass. Each filling their small plastic buckets with whatever treasures they happened to find. He’d been in no rush; taking as many videos and pictures as possible and trying to commit every little moment to memory. They went for a hike in the woods. Playing ‘spot the wildlife’; listening to the kookaburras in the trees and seeing kangaroos hop through the brush and the koalas clinging to trunks and branches. Awed by how bright eyed and curious they are. Fearless. Smart. Everything that’s good and beautiful that exists in both their parents fully alive and flourishing inside of them. They went out for lunch and to the park near their school. Leaving the car parked downtown and simply enjoying the walk with them. A tiny hand curled around each of his, another clutching the side pocket of her cargo shorts, Declan holding on tight as he perched upon his father’s shoulders. And he’d entertained every request for pushes on the swings; never denying their demands to go higher and higher. Smiling at the sounds of their laughter and their squeals and the grins on their faces. When they’d returned home they’d all taken a nap together. Somehow managing to all cram together on the living room couch.

He’d spent his last hour with Addie. Just her and him in the old, creaky rocking chair in the nursery. Feeding her a bottle and holding that impossibly tiny body as close as he possibly could. Eyes closed as he breathed in the soft scent that clung to her sleeper; feeling that silky hair against his skin and the way those small first tightly grasped the front of his t-shirt. 

He doesn’t remember a time when four in the afternoon has come this quickly. And while Esme waits in the car -knowing that she won’t be able to hold it together during the goodbyes and how badly her children need to see her calm and composed- he stalls for as long as he possibly can. Double checking the contents of the backpack serving as a carry on and moving at a snail’s pace as he laced his boots; trembling hands making the simple task needlessly complicated. His chest aches; a pain like nothing he’s ever experienced before. A mix between tightness and profound emptiness that he can’t even begin to describe. Emotion sits heavily in his throat, threatening to choke him. And he sees the sympathetic smile that Kyle -with Addie along his arm- gives him. His brother in law is unusually emotional; they never quite seen eye to eye and Kyle has also held a lot of animosity and spite towards him. Truly believe that he’d ‘stolen’ Esme from the family and then proceeded to drag her into a less than appealing life. But Kyle understands the enormity of the situation; how serious and dangerous it will be. And he knows full well that despite not even realizing it the kids could very well be hugging and kissing their father goodbye for the last time.

“Come here guys…” Tyler says, as he drops down to one knee in the middle of the front foyer. “...I gotta go.”

The twins are the first to him, and he gathers one in the crook of each arm and pulls them tightly into him. Two sets of little arms immediately curling tightly around his neck. His eyes shut tight as he holds them; a valiant attempt at fighting back the flood of threatening tears. And he places a hand on the back of their heads and presses kisses to their brows. 

“You guys be good, yeah? Be good for your mom. Do what she says. Clean your room. Eat all your dinner. No mouthing off. Got it?”

They both nod.

“I don’t want to hear any different when I call to check on things, hear me?”

“You’ll come and visit, right?” Tanner’s voice cracks with emotion, tears brim in his eyes. “When we get there? You’ll come and see us?”

“You guys will have a good time with your mom. It’s a really nice place you’re staying at. Its got an indoor AND outdoor pool and its own theatre for watching movies and one of those massive wooden playgrounds you’re always after me to get. And animals. Crazy ones too. Like monkeys and tigers and a sloth and shit like that.”

“But you’ll come see us, right?” Tanner presses. “You’ll come and visit?”

“As soon as I can. I promise.”

“How soon?”

“I’m not sure, mate. There’s some things I need to do first. I’ll come as soon as they’re done, okay? Second I’m finished, I’ll be there. Alright?”

Tanner nods.

“I love you guys.” He presses another kiss to one forehead, followed by the other. “So much.”

“I love you, daddy,” TJ pecks Tyler’s cheek and then tightens his hold on his neck. “I’ll miss you too.”

“I’ll see you soon, mate. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Tanner laments. “Why can’t we go together? Why are you going before us?”

“We talked about this.” Tyler brushes his son’s hair away from his forehead and out of his eyes. “I gotta do some work stuff. Important stuff. Very important.”

“More important than us?”

“Nothing is more important than you, mate. And I’ll see you as soon as I can. It won’t be too long, I promise.”

“Okay,” Tanner sniffles. “I love you, daddy. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. You guys be good. No fighting. Especially with your sister. You know both she can kick your butts. Go on. Go and see what that crazy puppy is doing. Make sure he’s not chewing shit up.”

Millie moves in once he brothers run off. Perching herself upon his thigh and wrapping her arms around his neck; burying her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder.

“You be good too,” Tyler says, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “No picking on anyone. And no beating anyone’s ass, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Be nice to your mom. Love on her a lot, okay? She needs a lot of love and she needs you and your brothers to give her that. I’m counting on you guys.” 

“Okay, daddy. I’m sad you’re leaving without us, but I’m excited too. About going to visit where Ovi was born. Mommy says there’s lots of new stuff for us to try. Like food and stuff. And a lot of fun stuff to see and do. I’ve never been on a trip before. I’m super stoked about it.”

He can’t help but smile. Relieved that she -with her shockingly keen instincts and her ability to ‘read’ situations- hasn’t picked up on any of the worry and the stress. “Mommy gets really nervous when she flies. So you sit beside her and hold her hand. I’m not there to do it, so you have to. Alright?”

Millie nods.

“I’ll miss you. But I’ll see you as soon as I can. I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, daddy. I made you something.”

“You did? What did you make me?”

She hops down off his thigh, then reaches into the pocket of her shorts. “It’s a bracelet. Like your other ones. Mommy helped me a bit; got me the right rope so you could just pull it tight and it won’t fall off. See…” she holds the item in question in her hand. “...Mommy made sure it was big enough to fit you. ‘Cause you have big hands and wrists. I picked as many boy colors as I could, but I put some pink and purple in there, too. ‘Cause they’re my favorite colors. Do you like it?”

“I love it.” Tyler feels the trick of tears in his eyes and he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’m gonna wear it right now."

Her entire face lights up. “Yeah? Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s just as nice as my other ones. Even nicer, actually. ‘Cause you made it.”

“I put my favorite colors in there for a reason,” she says, as he allows her to slip the bracelet onto his right wrist; using the fingers of one hand and her teeth to pull it tight against his skin. “So that when you look at it, you’ll think of me and I won’t feel so far away.”

“Thank you. It’s perfect. Just like you.”

“Why are you gonna cry?” Millie asks, as she takes his face in her hands. “It makes me sad when you cry.”

“I’m just going to miss you guys, that’s all.” He pulls her into a tight hug, eyes closing to once more hold back the tears. “Why don’t you go and help your brothers with Saju. Keep all three of them out of trouble.”

“Okay,” she says, and brushes the tip of her nose against his. “You thought I forgot about that part, didn’t you.”

He grins. “I was starting to wonder.”

“That’s my favorite part. That’s our special thing. Since I was really little. Like Declan. That’s a long time ago.”

“Sure seems like a long time ago.”

“I love you, daddy. You be safe. Kick the bad guys’ butts.”

“I will. Just for you.”

She gives a brilliant smile and then kisses his cheek before rushing off, hollering after her brothers and the puppy. He winces as he stands; both knee and back stiff and aching. Not a good way to start a mission, that’s for sure. And he scoops Declan up and showers him with kisses and spoils him with hugs and tickles until the toddler is giggling hysterically. He moves on to Addie, taking her from Kyle’s arms and holding her tight to his chest; a hand on the back of her head, eyes closing as he swallows around the knot of emotion lodged in his throat. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, cheek, and temple before handing her back to his brother in law.

“You be careful, hear me?” Kyle says. “Because these kids need you. My sister needs you.”

“I appreciate you going to Mumbai with them. She’ll need someone with her. Especially if…” he shrugs. “...you know.”

“I’ll be there for her. IF it happens. And just in case it does, thank you. For loving her the way you do. For being so good to her. And those kids. You're the best thing that’s ever happened to her; hands down. I hope you know that. And I hope you know that. That you don’t ever question it.”

“I don’t,” he says. “And I never have.”

“Take care of yourself, Tyler. Get shit down. Take no prisoners. Make those fuckers pay.”

“I will,” he promises. “No matter how I have to do it.”

****

The drive to the airport is spent in silence. He had turned down the transportation that Anil had arranged; opting to send the others ahead so he could have those last minutes with his wife. They don’t need to speak; content with the quiet and finding even the smallest shred of comfort in one another’s presence. The things that had needed to be said have long been laid out on the table. Worst fears, lingering regrets and guilt, apologies for any and all perceived wrong doings and harsh, hurtful words said during arguments; things that SHOULD have been said a long time ago. It’s been the struggle a of a lifetime trying to keep his emotions in check; wanting desperately to be what she needs at this moment. The strong, stoic one who always finds a way to keep shit together when it’s falling apart around them. 

She knows how he feels; the fierce loyalty and unwavering faithfulness. Since their six month separation three and a half years ago, he’d been working diligently at being the man she needs. The one she deserves. Stepping out of his comfort zone and regularly attending therapy -both alone and as a couple- and legitimately putting his effort into being the kind of husband and father HE wants to be. Hands on. Devoted. Putting his family first and foremost instead of falling back into old habits and indulging in old vices. And the hard work has paid off. He’s become more attentive. Loving. No longer afraid to show emotion or affection or professing his feelings. He’d spent nearly his entire childhood and teenage years being told that all of that is simply unacceptable; it made him weak, pathetic. That he’d somehow grown into ‘less of a man’ and an ‘embarrassment’. 

He’d never realized the extent of the damage it had caused. Years in the military and then as a merc had hardened his exterior and saw him bottling things up; pushing people away and shutting them out, convincing himself that his father’s words were true. He WOULD be viewed as a lesser man if he opened up; if formed valuable connections with people and allowed himself to feel. It had helped destroy his first marriage; one of the many nails in the coffin. And it had taken him until he was thirty five to to cross paths with someone even stronger and more determined -and stubborn- than him. Who didn’t view him as weak and damaged and never gave up on him even during even the darkest and most trying of days. Pushing back when he tried to push away. Holding on even tighter when he tried to force her out; believed that he needed to protect her from HIM. Someone so little but so mighty. With so much love and trust and tenacity inside that tiny body.

The last six month have been incredible. A change of pace and scenery doing both of them a world of good. A chance to devote themselves to their marriage and raising a family. And now this. Had it just been a return to the job and starting a business, it would be easy to cope with. They’d once again get used to the instability and unpredictability and he’d find that balance being the job and being a family man. But THIS. Mahajan and his threats and the known that awaits in Mumbai. There’s no way to ever truly prepare yourself for something like that. When the possibility of never seeing your family again is higher than it’s ever been.

Tyler knows she’s been struggling. Mostly in silence. Aware of the times she’s hidden herself away from both him and the kids in order to have an emotional meltdown. She hasn’t just been keeping the enormous effects of the situation away from the little ones, but from him as well. Not wanting to admit the full weight that’s been placed upon her; not wanting him to see the tears or how the stress makes her physically ill because she’s worried about adding more to his already overflowing plate. She’s always been like that; selfless to a fault. And he wants to tell her that. That it’s okay to just let it out instead of letting it eat her alive and cause more damage. Ironic, considering she’s usually one saying things like that to HIM. But he’s at a loss on how to comfort her when his own emotions have been stripped down to their core; raw and painful. It had taken all her had to keep it together in front of the kids. And he doesn’t know if he has any strength left to keep it up.

“Millie gave you the bracelet.” Her eyes never leave the road as she speaks, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, her knuckles and the tips of her fingers turn white. 

“Yeah,” he nods, and glances down at the item in question nestled perfectly against the older, weathered ones on his wrist. Two of them have been around since Dhaka. Esme had painstakingly cleaned dirt, grime, and blood off of each bead and every bit of braided rope after she’d found them in the bag of personal effects the emergency room doctor had given her. And Millie was right; the purple and pink DO remind him of her. And it helps to alleviate some of the heartache.

“She’s all heart that kid,” Esme says. “Especially when it comes to you. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for you. No one she loves the way she loves you. If something DOES happen to you, she’s the one I worry about the most.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. Maybe some bumps and bruises. A few stitches. I’ve had worse.”

There’s a glimmer of confidence inside of him. Last night after they’d made love -twice- and she’d fallen into a deep and satisfied sleep beside him, everything that had been nagging at him regarding specifics of the job had fallen into place. As if a light had been switched on inside of him; illuminating the troublesome spots and making them easier to see. All the hours of analyzing blue prints and photographs suddenly coming together and his brain assembling the very detailed and efficient pieces of the puzzle. It isn’t the answer to everything -he’ll have to come up with new methods once the first couple of kills are complete- but it’s a start.

“You definitely have,” she agrees. “And if those things are all that happens to you, I’ll take it. Gladly. Because the thought of something worse happening...something Dhaka level…”

“It won't get to that,” Tyler assures her. “Look at all the guys going in. It’s not just me trying to get shit done this time. And we can always get more people if we need them. This is nothing like Dhaka.”

“In some ways it’s worse.”

“In some,” he admits. “In other ways it’s better. Not just me and Saju going up against a fucking army. Once we get shit ironed out, this will go good. Nice and smooth. As simple as checking a name off and going onto the next one.”

“You’re awful confident all of a sudden,” Esme remarks.

“Hopeful is more like it.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Sometimes hope is the only thing that does get you through shit like this. And I’m not worried about you going after the people in the list. I know you can handle that. I worry about when Mahajan catches on and figures out it’s you. When he makes that bounty even bigger. How are you going to get around Mumbai with every gun pointed at you?”

“There’s always ways. I’ll figure it out when...and if...that happens. Let me worry about all that, okay? No sense you dwelling on it. You got an even bigger job ahead of you. Even more important.”

“I just hope I can do it. Keep it together for them. Because I already feel like I’m falling apart and the job hasn’t even started yet. What if I lose it? What if…?”

“You won’t.” He reaches out and runs a hand over her hair, then settles it at the back of her neck, lightly squeezing. “You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Everything you do is for those kids. MY kids. You got this. I know you do.”

Her smile widens but the tears shimmering in her eyes increase. “It’s so much harder this time. Saying goodbye to you. It’s never been this hard with any of the other jobs you’ve taken. “

“Well it’s not like any other job, is it. And don’t use the word. We NEVER use that word. Don’t start using it now. Goodbye isn’t an option; we decided on that a long time ago. That we’d never say that.”

“I’m just so worried. About holding it together for the kids, about you, about Ovi. It’s all just too much to deal with. Knowing what you’re out there doing and having to pretend like it’s not happening and like my heart isn’t out there walking around outside of my body. How am I supposed to be happy for them when all I can think about is something about to you? You’re half of those kids. And if we lose you…”

“You won’t. It’s not going to happen. I’ll be careful. You know I will.”

“That’s a lot of money, Tyler. That he has on your head. You KNOW what people will do for that kind of money. Look what we’ve done. Both of us have crossed people. Betrayed them. For money.”

“People who deserved it,” he reminds her. “Not one of them didn’t deserve it.”

“But look at the lengths WE’VE gone to. How far do you think someone who really needs the money will go to get to you? Those are the people I’m most worried about. The truly desperate ones who have nothing to lose. They're the most dangerous and we both know what they’re capable of. I mean, look how far that Farhad kid was willing to go for Amir Asif. How many Farhads are in Mumbai wanting to impress Mahajan?”

“I think you need to let me worry about things like that. I’m not a rookie; I know what I’m doing. Just have me in faith, okay? That’s all I’m asking. That you have faith in me.”

“I do. I always have. Bit that doesn’t I’m not going to worry. And don’t even try and tell me not to. You know I’m incapable of turning that part of me off. You always talk about how protective you are of me. Well I’m just as protective when it comes to you. You don’t think I’d do anything remotely possible to keep you safe.”

“I know you would. And the next time a Care Bear comes at me, I’ll let you have the first shot at it.”

Despite the tears in her eyes and deep furrows in her brow, she still manages a laugh. “You are such an ass sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he admits, and then grins. “But you love me.”

She smiles. “Only on days that end in Y.”

****

At the airport she parks on the tarmac; Anil having chartered two separate planes, one strictly being used to transport all of the weapons, ammo, gear, and various supplies. Long gone are the days of travelling by crowded Cessna or helicopter; both methods replaced by sleek, high end, fuel efficient jets. She sits behind the wheel with the engine idling, watching as Tyler heads across the tarmac, where Anil waits at the bottom of one of the jet’s stairs. And she tries to ignore how pronounced his limp is and the grimace on his face. Bridging them up will get her nowhere. He’s stubborn to fault and will only get defensive or brush off her concerns. And the last thing she wants is already fragile emotions making a big deal out of nothing and one of them -or both- walking away with hurt feelings or hostility. Because she’d never forgive herself if that happened; if the last words she even spoke to him were out of misplaced anger. 

Instead she wages a valiant yet slowly weakening battle against profound worry and a heartache she’s never experienced before. It’s impossible to prepare for. The moment the person you love -more than you ever thought you could ever possibly love- walks away and you have to relegate yourself to the very real possibility that you may never see them again. That one day even your memories of them will fade; the sound of their voice, their smell, the touch of their hand, their face. The act of grieving a person that is still very much alive.

She watches as Anil greets him with a pleasant smile and a handshake. The two engaging in a brief conversation before Anil turns to address the three person flight crew and all five begin heading towards the truck. And she slides out from behind the wheel as they begin unloading the last three crates of supplies and gear and Tyler’s two meager bags; an old army rucksack and a backpack that’s usually reserved for day trips with the kids. He’s always been a light traveller; two or three changes of clothes and hygiene products. Always shrugging his shoulders and saying he’ll buy more things if he really needs to every time she brings it up that he’s not nearly taking enough with him. And he always returns with the same amount of things as when he’d left; nothing new among the old. He lives simply. A hard habit to break when you’ve spent years not really giving a shit about your personal appearance. He’s happy just owning a couple pairs of jeans, old sweats and taking the same three pairs of cargo pants with him on every job. Perfectly content in board shorts and tattered t-shirts he’s owned for god knows how long.

Anil steps to the driver’s side of the truck, greeting her with a warm smile and a kiss to each cheek before clasping one of her hands in both of his. He’s very much like his brother; a gentle soul stuck in the body of a man capable of so much vengeance and rage. She’d see it in Saju’s eyes. There on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. A kindness and compassion underneath all those cuts and bruises and broken bones. He’d been weary; a former soldier turned family man, caught in a nightmare brought on by his own employer. Having to revert back to his ways of old in order to save the ones he loved.

“You look so much like your brother.” Esme gestures towards Anil’s apparel. “All black. It’s what Saju was wearing. That day on the bridge. It really is uncanny; how much you look like him. Almost like seeing a ghost.”

“You were the last one to see him. Alive. You were with him in those final minutes?”

“I was with Ovi. He’d told us to hide. Not to come out until he told us it was safe to. Neither of us were with him. But we saw it; what happened to him. How he died.”

“When it’s a better time, I’d like to speak with you. About Saju. About my brother. About his time on the bridge. What it was like for him.”

“It felt like hours. I was probably thirty minutes, forty five at the most. But it felt like it lasted a lifetime. Like it was never going to end and we were never going to get out of there.”

“We will talk. When things have settled down. There’s things I’d like to ask you. About Saju. His state of mind. Things he may have said.”

“I don’t think we said more than a few words to each other. I don’t know what I could possibly tell you. We didn’t even know one another. I was just some girl he was supposed to kill. That’s it.”

“It would just be nice to hear about his last minutes. How he was. How he seemed. There’s no one else who can tell me these things. I want to hear them. I NEED to hear them.”

Esme nods in understanding. 

“Schedule permitting, I will be at the house when you and the children arrive. I would prefer to welcome you myself; give a tour of my home and my property. But I apologize in advance if that can not be. It’s hard to say where the next couple of days will lead us all. Soon we will speak. But for now…” he takes her hand once more. “...I bid farewell. I’ve taken up too much of your time when there’s someone else more deserving of it.”

“Stay safe,” she says. “You have a lot of good people working with you.”

He gives a soft smile of appreciation and then clasps Tyler on the shoulder as he approaches. “Take your time. There’s no rush. The pilot waits for us, not the other way around.”

“Must be nice to have that kind of pull,” Tyler remarks, watching as Anil crosses the tarmac. “That kind of cash. A private jet just to carry weapons and ammo and all that other shit? Talk about having money to burn.”

“This coming from a man who has millions of dollars in the bank, yet only owns three pairs of underwear,” she teases.

“Only need three if you don’t wear any ninety seven percent of the time.”

“Now you’re a math whiz too? You really ARE a study in a contradiction. You got everything?”

He nods. Eyes refusing to meet hers, top teeth dragging across his bottom lip. “You know what to do, right? If something does happen? You take the money and go. Leave and don’t look back. Change your last name. The kids’ too. There can’t be any trace of me; nothing that can lead guys like Mahajan back to you. Just go and don’t look back. Promise me.”

“I promise. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” She lays her hands on his hips. “That all we have to do is talk about it. That all this will be over sooner rather than later and you’ll come and get us and we can go home. All of us.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen,” he vows.

“I know you will. I have no doubt in mind that it’ll happen. This isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other.”

He heaves a shaky sigh. “I really fucking hope it isn’t.”

Placing her forehead against his chest, she wraps her arms around his torso, hand rubbing his back. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t,” he lays one hand on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back. “I wish there was some other way.”

“This is harder than I thought it would be. We’ve been through a lot of these moments. You think we’d be used to them by now. But this one hurts. Way more than any of those ever did.”

He nods, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. I’ll miss your cold feet and your snoring.” She’s grinning as she tilts her head back to look up at him. “And the way you never complain when I steal all the blankets.”

“I MIGHT miss the way you talk in your sleep,” Tyler chides. “But I’ll definitely miss the way you wake me up some mornings.”

“You won’t get THAT kind of wake up call at the hotel.”

He gives a small chuckle. “I’ll come and see you guys as soon as I can. Soon as they tell me it’s safe enough. I’ll even wear the vest. Just for you.”

“You better,” she says, and both his hands move to the sides of her face; calloused palms gently cradling it as he kisses her. Long and soft and sweet. So tender it both takes her breath away and breaks her heart. The tears responding accordingly; hot and stinging as they find her cheeks.

“I love you, Esme. So much. I’ll always love you. Remember that, okay? Just in case.”

“I love you. More than you could ever know. And I’m so proud of you, Tyler. For how far you’ve come since Dhaka. For who you’ve become. No one can take that from you. How hard you had to fight. No one can take that.”

He manages to hold back his own tears, swallowing noisily before drawing her into a hug; as tight as that little body allows him to hold it. Eyes closed and his brow resting against the top of her head, her hands clutching at the back of his shirt. “I gotta go,” he says. “I’ll call you when I get there. So you know I arrived safe and sound.”

“Be safe, okay? And be smart. Think with your head, not your heart.”

“I will.” He kisses her once more, then presses his lips to her forehead. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, reluctantly releasing her hold on him. “You will.”

She watches as he goes. Those broad shoulders slumped, hands shoved in his pockets, barely balancing up when Koen speaks to him as he passes. He won’t look back. He never does. Always saying that that’s when he’s at his weakest; while walking away. And that if he glances even briefly over his shoulder, he’ll change his mind and stay. Even when the best thing to do is leave.

Koen gives a sympathetic smile and lays a hand on her shoulder. “How you holding up?”

“I’m not,” Esme admits, and the tears come in earnest. A tsunami of emotions that comes flowing through her body; wracked by heavy sobs that shake her from head to toe.

“Easy now...easy…” Koen coos, as he draws her into his arms. “...it’s all going to be alright. HE’S going to be alright. You know he is. He’s a tough shit. And stubborn. Stubborn as all hell. No way he’s going to let this Mahajan and those drongos of his get the better of him.”

“All I can think about is what if that’s the last time I ever got to kiss him? That I’m ever going to feel those arms around me? Hear his voice? Smell him? What if…”

“Don’t you do that. Don’t you talk like that. That’s not what you need right now. That’s what HE needs. He needs you to be strong. For yourself, for those rugrats, for him. He’s always going on and on about how strong you are; how it’s one of the things that made him fall so quick for you. Well now you’ve got to live up to that. Prove him right. You’re better than this; stronger than this. Don’t let him down.”

“It’s just hard. To pretend that everything is fine when it feels like everything is going to shit. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on him? Because he puts on a really good front, but what’s going inside is a whole other thing. And don’t tell him I told you to do it. That’ll only piss him off.”

“I know how to handle that shit head. Been putting up with him for quite a while.”

“And keep him away from booze. He needs to be sober to get this done. The last thing he needs is falling back into old habits. Especially with this job.”

“So I think that taking him to the strippers is out of the question?” Koen teases.

“I’m serious,” she sniffles. “He’s big and he’s strong and he’s intimidating as all hell. But he needs someone to watch out for him. To care about him. Make sure he eats. And sleeps. It’s important to me. That you look after him. I trust you with this. With him.”

“I’ve got you,” Koen vows. “I’ve got this. He’s in good hands.”

“And you take care of yourself, too. Be safe. And when it comes to the job itself, listen to what Tyler says. He knows what he’s talking about and he knows what he’s doing. No one is as good as he is at this. No one. He got me and Ovi out of Dhaka. If you want to stay alive in Mumbai, you have to listen to him. You have to trust him.”

“Gonna be weird taking orders from that little piss ant. I remember when I was in charge of him back in the SASR. Now he’s MY boss?”

“If you want to survive, you’ll do whatever Tyler says. No questions asked. I trust him...only him...with my life. Trust him with yours too.”

“I will,” Koen promises, then presses a kiss to her cheek. “Hang in there kiddo. Those littles need their momma.”

“They need their dad too,” Esme reminds him as he walks away. “Is it too much to ask that you bring my husband home alive?”

“Wouldn’t think of bringing him back any other way,” he says, then gives a wink in farewell, footsteps heavy on the tarmac as he heads for the plane.

****

The inside of the jet is both spacious and luxurious; black leather seats and couches, glass and chrome tables, a handful of flat screen televisions mounted on wood panelled walls, and a fully stocked bar. Nathan and Ovi are already taking advantage of Anil’s generosity and hospitality; a bottle of expensive cognac already cracked open, their laughter and boisterous conversation filling the cabin. It’s a far cry from what any of them are used to. Not even Ovi, who’d experienced the comforts of wealth and had spent his time being chauffeured around in sleek town cars driving by armed bodyguards, had ever been in this particular lap of luxury. And while it shouldn’t bother Tyler that they're indulging and in particularly high spirits given the enormity of the situation, it does. They're nauseatingly obnoxious and he wants nothing more than to beat the ever living shit out of them. 

It’s just his mood; on edge, irritable, heartbroken. Drowning in the reality that he may never see his family again. That even though he refuses to acknowledge the word ‘goodbye, those hugs and those kisses from his wife and children could very well have been just that. The others don’t have that much to lose; single, no one to worry about outside of themselves. There’s no way they could ever begin to imagine what he’s going through; the profound worry and sadness that comes with having that much to lose. And he doesn’t acknowledge their presence; ignoring their requests for him to join them and the offers of drinks and the murmurs of ‘what the hell is wrong with him?’. He’d expected more from Ovi. But he’s young and impressionable and is affected by his surroundings and easily succumbs to peer pressure. And holds an almost unhealthy idolization of Nathan. Who’s young and single as well and easily attracts the attention of the ladies.

He sinks into a seat near the front of the plane; next to the window with his back towards the others. Bag at his feet and his legs stretched out in front of him; head tilted back and his eyes closed, hands clasped and resting on his stomach. And hears Koen’s arrival on the jet; those heavy, clunky footsteps and his thick accent and loud voice. There’s nothing discreet about the man. Part of his charm, Tyler supposes. A fiercely loyal friend that will rip you to shreds with his teasing one minute, but fight to the death to protect you the next. And he hears a loud smack and then grins when Nathan protests the slap that had been delivered -Tyler guesses- to the back of his head.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen growls. “Don’t shit talk the man. Can’t you see he’s going through something? Shut your damn mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

Within seconds he feels Koen’s presence by his side, then hears a groan as his friend drops into the seat across from him. Only opening his eyes and acknowledging his friend when he feels the press of cool, smooth glass against his knee.

“Something to take the edge off?” Koen inquires, offering the bottle of cognac he’d snagged from the others.

Tyler shakes his head.

“Top shelf. None of that pig piss we’ve been drinking all these years. A couple of swallows won’t hurt ya.”

“Don’t want any,” he says, and closes his eyes once more.

“That was a test, anyway. Just to see how you fucked you might be. Good sign, I reckon. You turning it down.”

“I guess.”

“You gonna stay clean through this?” Koen inquires. “No stupid shit?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ll be on your ass to make sure you do. You got too much riding on this to let the booze fuck it all up.”

Tyler scowls. “You don’t think I realize that?”

“I think your heart’s torn to fucking pieces and you might cave and try to find something to take a bit of the sting away.”

He scoffs. “What the fuck do you know?”

“I know you’re not the same bloke you were seven years ago. The one that made the jump off that cliff. I know you’re a guy that loves his wife and his kids with every fibre of his miserable fucking being. Who doesn’t think he deserves the life he has; someone that loves him, kids that adore him. And I also know you’re a guy that would die for them. No hesitation. And you’re thinking that’s likely what it’s going to come down to.”

Tyler smirks. “You’re a fucking shrink now?”

“Nope. Just an old, crotchety fuck that happens to care a whole lot about your sorry ass. And if you think you’re dying on my watch, you have another thing coming. And if you think I’m just going to sit back and watch you do something that’s going to fuck your life up, you’re wrong about that too. Because one screw up and I will beat your tail into the next century, drag you back to this one, and beat your tail all over again. Hear me?”

A grin plays at the corners of Tyler’s mouth. “Sweet talker.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my type. Besides, I try anything, your little missus will kick my ass. And I bet she packs a bigger punch than you do. You don’t scare me. She does. Always the small ones. They’re sketchy. Cagey. No wonder you tow the line. Probably knock your ass into the middle of next week if you step out of place.”

“Probably.”

Koen takes a swallow of cognac. “You gonna be alright?”

Tyler nods.

“Because it’s okay if you’re not. You don’t gotta hold it together, you know. Anyone would understand if you fell apart just a bit.”

“I’m fine.”

“There’s no shame in it. There’s…”

“I said I’m fine,” Tyler irritably interjects. “Enough.”

“You know as well as I do that you’re not.”

He sighs.

“But I ain’t gonna push ya. Nothing good ever comes of that. But I’m here for you. Just sayin’.”

“I appreciate that. But I’m fine. Drop it.”

“But I do draw the line at hand jobs or blow jobs.” Koen says. “Just so you know. I don’t care how big your muscles are or how pretty your eyes are.”

Tyler snickers. “You’d be the last I’d ask, so…”

“Now THAT’S hurtful. Always thought maybe you had a crush on me.”

“You’re delusional.”

“So does that mean you DON’T want me sneaking in your room tonight and spoonin’ with ya?”

Tyler laughs. “Fuck off.”

Koen chuckles, then leans over in his seat to tussle Tyler’s hair. “You’re gonna be alright, mate.”

Tyler nods, then sighs heavily and leans his head back against his seat once more.

They don’t speak for the rest of the flight.


	55. Chapter 55

They arrive in Mumbai at three thirty in the morning. Checking into a hotel just on the outskirts of the city; a simple and unassuming place owned by an ‘informant’ of Anil’s. An inside man with access to both Mahajan and the higher ups temporarily in charge of running his business and carrying out his dirty work. While their true identities are known only to the owner and a handful of his most trusted staff, they register under the fake names given to them prior to boarding the plane. There is to be no trail leading back to them and who they really are; using cash only for all purchases, given different cell phones with unlisted and untraceable numbers to communicate amongst each other with, signing the passenger manifesto before the flight with entirely different monikers. Assured that everything during their stay will be kept low key to avoid any suspicion from ‘the wrong crowd’; two guards in casual clothing assigned to the lobby, monitoring everyone that comes through the front doors. Granted use of the establishment’s personal conference room for all planning and strategic meetings, and for Yaz to set up his command post. 

Anil’s money and influence are quite prominent; his dealings and interactions with those he comes across are always friendly, but remaining professional. He’s well liked. Respected. And perhaps more than a little feared. A man that presents himself as calm and level headed but whose tone and facial expressions never leave a doubt that he’s not to be crossed. There’s an edge to him; a grittiness just under the businessman in designer clothes and linen suits and silk ties that suggests a tough and checkered past. Tyler has done his research; digging up some of the truth behind Anil’s departure from Special Forces. It isn't as cut and dry as he led them to believe; it isn’t just vengeance for his brother that saw him and the military parting ways. Multiple complaints of ‘excessive force’ against apprehended criminals -most drug and human traffickers- leading to an honorary discharge and no access to a pension. He knows there’s more to it than that; through his own experience with the SASR and the tales of others who’d served in various branches of the military world wide. Most war machines and police forces turns a blind eye to roughening up -and even killing- more hardcore offenders like child molesters, traffickers, and terrorists. But the further he dug into Anil’s past, the most questions he walked away with. His search for the full story only led to heavily guarded military pages that even all the tricks Yaz had taught him over the years couldn’t get past.

He doubts it’s anything serious or scandalous. His money on involvement in missions kept under the radar and out of public knowledge; most likely involving top officials in the Indian government. He’s worked a handful of those jobs himself; everything kept on the down low, his true name and identity kept a secret; nothing more than a ghost or an urban legend behind a high profile assassination.

The room is far more spacious and inviting than the bland and sparsely furnished front lobby. Two queen sized beds and a large walk in closet, burgundy walls adorned with paintings encased in thick, highly polished gold frames, natural wood furniture and a small table with two chairs nestled in the corner by the balcony doors. It’s twelve stories up and he pauses momentarily to look out at the city in the distance; brightly lit skyscrapers and the glow of random lights in apartment buildings, the flashing red of stop signs. The last time he’d ventured to Mumbai, Millie had been just turned two and a half months old and they were a week and a half away from finding out they were having another baby; staying in Mahajan’s cold and pretentious mansion, discussing how they couldn’t -in good conscience- leave Ovi behind. They couldn’t -and wouldn’t- allow him to be raised in such a sterile and unloving environment; no one to protect him from his father’s enemies, never feeling the touch of someone who truly cared for him. It was inhumane; expecting any human to live like that, never mind a scared and impressionable kid. 

They hadn’t even had a home themselves. A situation beyond their control making it impossible to return to that small, two bedroom apartment just outside of Sydney. But they’d made the best of it, taking Ovi with them when they’d headed for Colorado with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and whatever money was in their bank account. 

For now, this is home; no telling just how long he’ll actually be there. All that really matters is that there’s a bed to sleep in and hot, running water, and a toilet that actually works. The rest is just window decoration; needless trimmings and frills that he’ll either never touch or even acknowledge. Living on the job is the best way to do things; no true comforts, nothing to distract you from the seriousness of the mission. And he thinks of Dhaka and how well things had done there, until they didn’t. That squalid hotel room with its dirty walls and cold water and view of the crowded and chaotic street. As desolate and dreary as it had been, for five days it seemed like a paradise. The outside world -and the job at hand- ceasing to exist the moment they locked themselves inside. It seems like forever ago. He’d been a different person then. So had she. Both fractured and damaged, bonding over their empty and meaningless lives.

He’s unsure if his exhaustion is mental or physical. Or if it’s perhaps a mix of both. But the five hours of restless and pain filled sleep he’d managed during the flight has done little to ease the head to toe weariness. Feeling as if his body is running on autopilot as he completes even the simplest of tasks; locking the door, toeing off his boots, placing his own stash of weapons and ammo and other tactical gear in the closet and securing them with a heavy chain and padlock. He feels numb. Empty. As if the emotional well has been bled dry and there’s just nothing left to give. The Tyler that existed before he stepped onto the plant almost gone; replaced by a darker, more savage and vengeful version. His finger longing for a trigger to pull; that long simmering rage finally reaching its boiling point. It's all he DOES feel now; the desperate seeking of revenge and carrying it out through whatever means necessary. Pushed to a near breaking point and determined into something useful; the feel of blood on his hands and the terrified, haunted look on another’s face as he stands over them and watches them die. 

It should bother him. Wanting to kill. Enjoying the thought of it and knowing he’ll get satisfaction out of doing it. He’s never felt that before; a want and a need to take a life. Before killing had always been a means to an end; a way of securing his own survival. Now it’s a longing. A way of proving two things. That he’s more capable of chaos and violence than Mahajan ever expected, and that even a reformed and changed man will go to any length to protect what’s his. 

It’s justified. The things he needs to do. And it will be easy. He won’t have a guilty conscience. He’ll experience no shame. No regret. No remorse. He’ll feel nothing but relief and satisfaction. And IF he manages to survive, he’ll go on with his life; not once thinking back to things he’d been forced to do in Mumbai.

He checks the time on his phone before tossing it onto the nightstand between the beds. With the four and a half hour time difference between India and Australia, it’s peak insanity time for getting the kids ready and out the door in time for the school bus. And just like that the feeling of emptiness...and nothingness...briefly lifts; a sudden tightening in his chest and throat and the bitter sting of tears. Actually missing -despite often grumbling about it- that morning routine; the race to get lunch pail paced and stuffed into backpacks, the madness that ensures when three kids all attempt to find missing shoes in the disaster that is the hall closet, often finishing Millie’s hair while standing in the driveway while the boys sit on the curb and watch YouTube videos on his phone. Those moments that most people would take for granted yet he always feels so lucky to even be experiencing. Almost seven years ago he’d been on the brink of death; only to be snatched back and given a second chance. To do something good with his life; one again be a husband and a father but this time get it right. Experience the ‘boring’ and the ‘mundane’ instead of nothing but danger and self sacrifice. Instead of taking jobs and checking into cheap, shitty hotels, spending his night on the couch with his wife; suffering through her love of reality television while they eat ice cream straight out of the carton. 

THAT was supposed to be his life. It’s what they had planned on when they decided to uproot the kids and move back to Australia. Be just another ordinary family; just a mom and ad raising five kids and enjoying their own slice of paradise after years of stress and worry and fear brought on by the job. And he thought he’d be happy with that LIKE that. But the past always finds a way to sneak up on you; reminds you why you’d ever got into it in the first place and convinces you that you aren’t complete without it. The adrenaline, the fast pace, the unpredictability. He’d somehow let himself fall prey to all of that. Once again going back on every goddamn promised he’d made; ruining every good intention he’d started out with.

If one thing has accompanied him to Mumbai, it’s the guilt. It’s deep and it’s painful and it makes him feel physically ill. That he would ever willingly get back into the game when he has so much to lose. The job is draining. Soul crushing. An unfair existence to spouses and children. Yet he’d brought them into it. He’d gotten close enough to someone to trust them -with his life- and had fallen in love with them and had desperately hung on to her when everything should have been telling him to push her away. And then he’d brought kids into it. Innocent little beings that are totally dependent on him for their survival and who would be the ones to suffer if anything happens to happen. 

It WAS selfish; his reasonings behind not forcing her out of his life and back to Colorado. IT was the first time since Austin...since he’d made the terrible decision he had...that he felt alive again. That he actually allowed himself to feel. Finding someone that was equally as broken and damaged; connecting with them through their experiences with the job and their tortured pasts and horrendous life choices. He hadn’t wanted to lose that. He hadn’t wanted to lose HER. Even though it should have been painfully clear that her life would have turned out so much better without him in it.

He forces those thoughts out of his mind. Concentrating instead on the pain inhabiting his body and the need for a hot shower. Maybe even something to eat. It’s been close to twenty hours since he last ate, and he can feel the pang of hunger that accompanies the guilt and regret and gnaws at his stomach. And he strips off his clothes as he heads for the bathroom. Letting them fall where they may, planning to gather them later; wincing at the agony that accompanies even the simple task of removing his shirt. 

Like the sleeping quarters, the bathroom is spacious; clean and modern with its subway tiles and infinity tub and a glass enclosed shower. And the water is hot...almost punishing...when he stands underneath it; pressure pounding and stinging. A form of self flagellation; punishing himself for both the selfish choice he’d made almost seven years ago and for feeling that way in the first place. Eyes closed, chin dropped to his chest and his palms flat against the tiles. Losing the battle against the threatening tears; allowing them to trickle freely down his cheeks and the sides of his nose, the droplets mixing with the soapy water that gathers at his first before swirling down the drain. It’s the first and only time he’ll let this happen; the open expression of emotion, the loss of control. It can’t happen again. Not on this job. He can’t allow it to. Not when there’s so much to lose.

His body is still damp damp and a towel is wrapped tightly around his waist when the confusion first hits. Distinctly remembering where he’d dropped each item of clothing on his journey to the bathroom; shirt having been the last item abandoned, left just on the threshold. Yet it’s no longer there. The door is cracked open to allow some of the steam to escape, and he can hear the sound of the tv -a laugh track for some shitty sitcom- drifting through the suite. He knows for a fact that he didn’t turn it on. And that he’d shut the bathroom door long before stepping into the shower. It isn’t a threat; no one is going to break into his room and gather up his dirty clothes and watch some television before attempting to kill him. Yet he still moves cautiously towards the door; years of being in a job where you have to expect the unexpected. Bare feet quiet against the tiles and then the dark, plush carpet. A scowl spreading across his face when he rounds the corner of the wall that separates the sleeping area from the bathroom and finds Koen sprawled out in the middle of the spare bed; clad in just a pair of boxers, hands behind his head as he watches tv.

“Just what in the fuck are you doing?” Tyler asks.

Koen nods towards the television as a form of response.

“Why are you doing it here and not in your own room?”

“Figured you wouldn’t mind having a roomie.”

“Actually, I do mind. So…”

“I picked up after your lazy ass. Were you born in a barn? Or are you just too used to someone picking up after you?”

“Why are you here? And how the hell did you get in here?”

“Front desk gave me the spare key card. Everyone is bunkin’ together; I thought why not the two of us?”

“Have you ever thought I like being alone?”

“You spent way too many years being alone and miserable,” Koen reasons. “Now I know I ain’t as pretty as who you’re used to sharing a room with, but…” he looks up at Tyler limps past him. “...well holy shit…” he drawls, and issues a low whistle. “...I think I’m questioning my sexuality.”

Tyler doesn’t respond; dropping down onto the edge of the bed closest to the window and digging through the old army rucksack for a pair of sweats.

“I could tell you had a pretty good rig under all those clothes, but I didn’t think you looked like THAT. Now I see why she doesn’t leave you. Or is the real reason she doesn’t under the towel?”

Tyler smirks, then shoves his legs into the sweats, towel still around his waist when he stands and pulls them on the rest of the way.

“Don’t be shy on my account. Be proud of what the good Lord gave you. Must be something extra special if your ugly mug manages to keep such a good woman around. Ain’t you ever worried about breaking a tiny little thing like her in half?”

“Fuck off,” Tyler grumbles, then yanks the damp towel from around his waist and tosses it at his friend.

“Humble, are we? I already know what it looks like, remember? How many times did we have to piss standing next to each other when we were in Kandahar? I’d be lying if I said I wasn't a bit jealous. Still don’t understand how you don’t hurt her, though.”

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”

“Never shied away from it before. Used to tell Rata and I all about your lady ‘friends’ stashed all over the world.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not that guy anymore, am I. And this isn’t just some piece of ass. This is my wife. So if you don’t mind…”

“Easy, tiger, easy. I know how defensive you get when it comes to her. And I don’t blame you; I don’t hold the overprotectiveness thing against you. I mean she’s cute, she’s tiny, you’ve almost lost her a couple times already…”

“Thanks for reminding me for that,” Tyler snarls, snagging his phone off the nightstand. “As if I haven’t been thinking about that every second of every fucking day since this Mahajan shit started.”

“...but she’s a grown woman with children and she knows how to take care of herself.” Koen finishes. “Ever think of easing up on her a bit?”

“You ever think of fucking off?”

“All I'm saying is that you don’t need to worry about her so much. She’s more than capable of handling things; taking care of herself and those littles.”

“Not against someone like Mahajan she’s not. And why are you even here? I don’t need company.”

“Hell you don’t. You gonna call home? She’s probably worried about you.”

“Get off my ass and go back to your own room.”

Koen ignores him. “You know this place has twenty four hour room service? We’re a far cry from eating army rations, ain’t we? I took the liberty of ordering both of us a little something. They didn’t have vegemite for your steak,though. What kind of savage bastard does that to a steak?”

“The kind of savage bastard that might kill in your sleep if you don’t fuck off and leave him alone.”

“Nope. Can’t do it. You’re stuck with me. No getting rid of me. Unless you DO kill me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Call home. I know you’re missing her. It’s okay to admit that; that you need to hear her voice. You’re a lucky bastard that you have a voice to call and help ground you. Don’t take shit like that for granted. Treat her right. ‘Cause there’s probably a lot of guys willing to take your place on her dance card.”

“How about you leave giving relationship advice to someone who is actually in a relationship?” Tyler retorts. 

Koen smirks, then gives him the finger before he slides open the balcony door and steps outside. 

****

“Job Tyler” is quick to assess his surroundings; considering what could go wrong and how he’d carry it off if he was the one targeting someone. If Mahajan’s people have been tipped off that he’s in Mumbai and they’re either keeping an eye on him or have been sent to take him out, the only way they could achieve it is from the apartment building to the right. It’s nothing but one story single family homes and empty lots in the other directions, and with his room being on the twelfth floor, there is no possible way even the best of snipers could manage a decent shot from that angle and distance. So instead of standing at the railing and possibly giving someone a chance at him, he stays behind the cement partition that separates his balcony from the one belonging to the room next door.

What a fucking way to live.

It’s nine in the morning in Australia; the kids will have already arrived at school leaving her with just Declan and Addie. It’s easier this way; not calling when the three oldest are around. It will only make things harder on them. And him. 

She answers on the third thing; both dogs barking in the background, along with the faint sound of waves.

“Hey,” Esme greets, and her surprisingly cheerful voice brings a smile to his face. “I was wondering if you’d fallen asleep on me,”

“I wanted to wait until the kids were at school. Didn’t want to make things harder on them. They’re okay?”

“Better than they usually are when you leave. Millie and TJ are all about going on a trip and seeing where Ovi came from. Tanner…well you know Tanner...he’s so intuitive and so sensitive and he’s become so close to you since New Zealand. He’s having a hard time. But I knew he would. He’s so much like you. More than anyone...even you...realizes. He feels so deeply and so powerfully.”

“He’ll be alright.” Tyler assures her. “He’s got a pretty amazing mom loving on him.”

“I don't know how amazing she is. She puts herself at mediocre.”

“Well tell her she’s delusional and she’s a fucking rock star and her husband worships the ground she walks on.”

“Her husband sounds like a very smart man.”

He grins. “He has his moments. You okay? What’re you doing?”

“Declan and I are down at the water with Saju and Mac. Kyle’s in the house with Addie. I’m okay, I guess. I’ve been better. I feel...I don’t know...like I’m in some kind of daze or a fog. Like I’m just going through the motions. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. But are you? Okay?”

“Not really,” she admits. “It’s real now. Not something we just talk about or plan. It’s so real and I’m worried and I’m scared and I’m trying so hard not to be. And I miss you. Already.”

“I miss you, too. So much.”

“You usually wait a couple days before admitting it,” Esme teases, and he can’t help but smile.

“Well I’ve gotten used to being around you all the time. Six months of just being about you and my kids. Hits a little deeper now. A little harder. Being away from home.”

“I’d gotten used to you being around all the time, too. I know sometimes I bitched about it, but I really DID like it; having you here THAT much. And I like my brother, don’t get me wrong, and he’s a huge help, but he’s not you. It was weird waking up and you not being there. I’ve been spoiled, I guess. I took it...you…for granted. I hate myself for that.”

“Don’t, baby. Don’t ever feel like that. We’ve both done it. Not just you.”

“I did wake up to four little ones in the bed, though. I don’t know how they take up so much damn room. And Declan is freaking tall and so heavy!”

“Kid’s a tank. Gonna be six seven and weight three pounds and be solid as fuck.”

“Even with the red hair, he looks more like you every day. You have some seriously strong genes, Tyler Rake. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you really okay? Or…?”

“I’m okay now,” he says. “Now that I’m talking to you. I needed to hear your voice.”

“And you say you’re not sappy,” Esme chides. “There’s a lot of people here. That Anil has sent. It’s making me even MORE nervous. And they’re not subtle. They're armed. Heavily. And they’re not making an attempt to hide it.”

“How many?”

“A dozen so far. There’s two of them watching Declan and I right now. We DON’T need this. This isn’t helping.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Tyler reasons.

“Our kids aren’t stupid. They notice everything. And they’re going to notice them and they’re going to start asking questions and they’re going to get scared. Can’t you get them to scale it back? Just a little? I don’t want the kids stressed out. I’m stressed out enough for all of us.”

“I’ll talk to Anil,” he says. “See if he’ll tone things down.”

“The kids do not need to know what’s going on. You know what Millie gets like when she thinks too much about you going after bad guys. She gets anxious and panics and then we’ll have a six year old that will start sucking her thumb and wetting the bed again.”

“I’ll talk to him. You’re right; there’s no need for all of that.”

“Do you think something’s happened?” she asks. “That maybe the threats have gotten worse? Or maybe Mahajan’s people are on the move?”

“What I think is that you need to NOT think so much. I’ll take care of it. And you guys are leaving tomorrow, so…”

“I wish you could be there,” she sighs. “When we arrive.”

“So do I, baby. Nothing I wouldn’t give to be there. But…”

“I know. I know it’s not safe. It’s just me being selfish and wanting to see you. It must be really late. Or really early.”

“Almost five.”

“You should rest. You sound tired.”

“I am,” Tyler admits. “I’m going to have something to eat and then try and sleep. There’s nothing to do until early afternoon. Just a team meeting to go over shit. I’ll call later. After dinner, your time. So I can talk to the kids.”

“Okay. Take care of yourself, please. You NEED to.”

“I know. I’ll talk to you later. Give Declan and the baby a hug and a kiss from me. Tell them I love them.”

“I will. We love you. Your little peanut misses you most of all, I think. She wouldn’t settle for her feed this morning until I wrapped her in one of your t-shirts from the dirty laundry basket.”

Tears prick his eyes, but he manages to hold them back. “Why would you do that to my little peanut?” he teases. “Traumatize her like that? That thing probably stinks.”

“It smells like you. And that’s the best smell in the world. I miss you. So much. And I can’t wait to see you. I hope it’s sooner rather than later."

“I hope so, too. I miss you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Tyler. Take that with you, okay? Wherever you go, whatever you get mixed up in.”

“I will,” he promises. “Talk later.”

“Be safe. Please. Be smart. You’ve got this. I know you do. You’re strong and you’re tough and nothing Mahajan throws at you is too much.”

“You’re good for my ego, you know that?”

“I’m in your corner. No matter what. We’ll talk soon,”

“We will,” he confirms, then waits for her to disconnect the call before hanging up himself. 

****

“Well?” Koen asks when he steps back into the room. “Everything good on the home front’?”

“Best it can be, I guess.”

“Felt good, didn't it? Being able to talk to her. Hearing her voice like that?”

Tyler smirks, dropping his cell onto the bedside table. “When the fuck did you get so sappy?”

“There was a time where I did love all my ex wives, you know. When I liked hearing their voices. Now all I feel is a cold chill if I hear even the slightest peep from those three hens. Nice seeing you this way. All head over heels, a fool in love for someone. Considering I know what you were like when you were with Sarah. Back when you THOUGHT you were in love.”

“Do we have to talk about her? Nothing good ever comes from talking about her.” He stretches out in the middle of the bed, pillows behind his back as he leans against the headboard. “When is the food showing up? I’m fucking starvin’.”

“Soon. And all I’m saying is that there’s a huge difference between the guy you were with Sarah and the guy you are with Esme. Back then, you thought you were in love. Now you really are. It’s written all over your damn face. Every time you look at her, it’s right there. How you feel. And you can’t tell me you don’t see the difference. FEEL the difference. Between the two.”

“Of course I do. It’s night and day.”

“You two are still so loved up on each other. I know I complain that it’s nauseating and annoying, but it’s actually really nice. Seeing you like that. Loving someone; them loving you. You deserved it. Finding that. Finding HER. It’s changed you. SHE’S changed you.”

“For good or…?”

“Of course for good, don’t be a dumb ass. She’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you. Her and those kids. She made you a daddy again. You ask me, she deserves you worshipping the ground she walks on. And you’re a good daddy. A damn good one.”

“I’m just doing whatever I can do to make up for the shitty I mess I made the first time around.”

Koen frowns. “Don’t do that, mate. Don’t compare those kids to what you lost. They’re not a replacement for Austin. Don’t talk like they are. And don’t treat them like they are. They deserve better than that. You did a crappy thing; we all do crappy things. But that’s a long time ago and you’re a different man now and them kids aren’t holding the past against you. You’re doing that all on your own. You have this uncanny ability to fuck your life up without even trying. Those kids don’t care who you were back then. Just who you are now.”

Tyler sighs. “You talk a lot of shit, you know that?”

“I’m talking the truth. You just hate hearing it for some reason. You hate when other peoples’ narratives don’t match your own. When they don’t see you as the shitty human you see yourself as. Knock that shit off. You’re better than you think.”

“Maybe,” Tyler agrees. “Maybe I am. But sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing. If I should have forced her to leave; when I woke up after Dhaka. If I should have found a way to get her to take off.”

Koen scowls. “You’re taking shit and you know it.”

“I was selfish. I wanted her to stay. I liked the way she made me feel. Not just the sex part of things. I mean everything. I liked having her around. I liked hearing her voice and seeing her smile. I liked how she looked at me. She didn’t look at me with pity or disgust. She looked at me like I was worth something. Like I wasn’t just a big fucking mess.”

“She saw the potential.” Koen reasons. “We all saw it. Just took her to get out of you.”

“But I kept her there for me. I didn’t think about what it would do to her; being mixed up with someone like me. And I should have. I should realized I’d only make her life a big fucking mess.”

“If she wanted to leave, she would have. You didn’t force her to stay.”

“I didn’t make her leave, either. And I should have. Especially after she found out about the baby.”

Koen’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck you going on about?”

“She would have been better going back to the States and having the baby on her own and never bothering with me again.”

“That’s horseshit and you know it! You really think you could have lived like that? Knowing you had a kid out there? Yet never knowing if it was a boy or a girl or even their name or what they looked like? You wouldn’t have been able to live like that; knowing you had blood out there So quit talking crazy. Look at that little girl. Think about her. How much she loves her daddy.”

“I’m a selfish fuck,” Tyler insists. “For getting married. Having kids. Dragging them all into this.”

“You didn’t drag anyone into anything,” Koen argues. “Esme stayed. She chose to be with you. And no matter what you could have said or done to push her away, it wouldn’t have worked. Her mind was made up. She wanted to be with you. For some fucking reason,”

“She deserves better than this. So do those kids.”

“Those kids wouldn’t even exist without you! They’re just as much yours as they are hers. You know what they deserve? They deserve to be on this earth. They have a mom and a dad that love them. That take damn good care of them. You know what’s selfish? You thinking FOR them. You’re their daddy. And you sit here talking about them like they’re mistakes?”

“I never said that.”

“You might as fucking well! You deserve a normal life. A wife and kids. People that love you no matter how big of a mess you think you are! And you know what? Fuck you for questioning that. Questioning their existence!”

“I never…”

“You’re the luckiest fucker I know,” Koen continues his rant. “I’ve seen you at your lowest. I’ve seen you in the gutter, practically. And this beautiful, selfless woman comes along and gives everything of herself to you. Gave up her old life to have a new one with you. And that’s how you think of her? Just to hell with the last seven years? To hell with five kids? All you think is ‘I should have pushed her away’? That’s what she gets after everything she’s done for you? Fuck you, mate. Guys would kill for what you have. Stop looking at what’s wrong and look at what’s right! You have a great life. That you deserve. So get your head out of your ass and appreciate it before someone comes along and does it for you. Yeah, you're a selfish prick, alright. Not even thinking about what pushing her away would have done to her and the baby she had in her belly. How none of those kids would even exist. THAT makes you a selfish prick.”

Silence descends on the room; Koen’s harsh words and accusations hanging heavily in the air. He’s right, of course. Even if Tyler hates to admit it, even to himself. Had he pushed her away, he would have spent the rest of his life drinking himself stupid and dwelling on what could have been and thoughts of what his kid turned out to be; what they looked like or what their name was. Did Esme give them his last name or did she just go with her? Was she with anyone? Did she ever think about him and those five days in Dhaka or did she hate him enough to never think of it...or him...again? 

How would her life have turned out? Who would she have ended up with? Would she have been happy? Or would part of her always be back in Australia? His child serving as a bond that would always keep them connected. Millie would exist,but none of the others would. No TJ with his fiery temper but a propensity to love with his entire heart and soul. No Tanner with his dad’s old haircut and his huge emotions and his sensitive, old soul. No Declan with his red hair and his strong, solid build, so affectionate and loving. No Addie; impossibly tiny with a headful of dark hair and those enormous dark eyes. And that’s a reality he’d never want to face; a life without any of his kids.

“You love her, yeah?” Koen speaks up.

“Of course I do. With everything I am. Everything I have. What..?”

“You love her and that’s enough for her. And she loves you. Or she wouldn’t have stuck around after Dhaka or after any of the shitty times. She’s given herself willingly to you. Given you five kids and a damn good life. Don’t ever talk about her or those kids like that again, or I WILL beat you ass. Understand me?”

Tyler nods.

“No that we’ve got all that worked out,” Koen sighs. “Food’s gonna be here soon. You gonna eat?”

“I could definitely eat.”

“Gotta take care of yourself. You’re no good to anyone if you don’t. What do you wanna watch?” He gestures towards the tv with the remote. “Probably got some good adult channels on here.”

Tyler smirks. “I am not watching pron with you in the room.”

“I ain’t gonna like while you’re jerking off if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You’ve got issues, mate. Why are you so obsessed with my dick?”

“Gotta be a reason she sticks around, I figure. I’m just trying to piece together what it is. Something’s keeping her happy. Unless…” Koen’s eyes narrow. “...you’re a giver and not a taker, aren’t ya. You’re going above and beyond down yonder to get your woman happy.”

“I already told you; I’m not talking about my sex life with you.”

“That’s it, isn’t it. You’re spoiling her THAT way.”

“My wife has no complaints. I’ll leave it at that.”

“Atta boy! You’ve your priorities straight! You must be something right; she sticks around.”

“Have you ever thought maybe she just loves me? That’s all it is?”

“No doubt in my mind she does. But I’m proud of you; doing what it takes to make her happy. She reciprocating or..”

“Mate, we are not having this conversation.”

“Just give me a sign that she is. Some kind of hint. Give me a thumbs up if she’s doing her bit, too.”

Tyler smirks, then gives two thumbs up. 

“You fucking bastard!” Koen snarls. “I don’t know whether to be jealous or you or hate you right now. Maybe a bit of both. No wonder you always got that goofy grin on your face whenever you’re around her. You’re getting yourself some. On a regular basis.”

“Probably get more in one week than you get in six months.”

“Now THAT’S harsh.”

Another silence descends on the room. This time far more comfortable. And Tyler lays his head back against the pillow behind him and closes his eyes. He feels better now. Slightly, at least. Koen’s tough love and hearing his wife’s voice and picturing her down at the water-with the sun capturing the natural red highlights in her dark tresses and that little burn she always gets on her nose and under her eyes- doing wonders to alleviate the guilt and regret. Loosening some of that tightness around his heart.

“You’ve got a good thing,” Koen says. “A good life. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t,” Tyler vows. 

But the confidence is lacking. It isn’t himself he doesn’t trust. He has the skills and the strength to complete the tasks at hand; his instincts and abilities strong. HE isn’t the problem. It’s everything...everyone...else around him. There’s no control over the situation . He’s at the mercy of his environment; unfamiliar surroundings working as a weakness. His kryptonite. 

Mahajan holds all the cards. And it’s time to take them away.


	56. Chapter 56

An hour before the initial team meeting, Tyler gathers privately with Anil; a chance to discuss the ‘rules and guidelines’ they’d drafted up when agreeing to run the mission together. While normally not one to hand over even partial control of a situation, it had been an easy decision to make. Anil a seasoned businessman with years in special forces; extensive working knowledge of weapons and hand to hand combat, unlimited resources and trustworthy informants with their ears to the ground. He never would have been able to pull off all the organizing and delegating on his own; his military days and his time as a merc seeing him as the one who followed plans and orders and got his hands dirty. Even with his years in the game, it’s still a lot to learn; going from simply part of the team to running the entire show. When it comes to the job, the only way to truly learn is to be thrown into the deep end. Whether it’s running things behind the scenes or being dropped into the middle of an already volatile and unpredictable situation. You’re never fully ready; no real way of preparing yourself when no two missions are ever the same.

While the feeling of emptiness remains, it isn’t nearly as profound as it had been the night before; the ache in his chest still there, but not as painful. It’s a classic case of homesickness. Something he’d experienced every time he left for a job, but not to such an enormous extent. It isn’t just about missing what he left behind; from his wife and his kids to the view off the back deck and the sound and smell of the ocean. It isn’t just a longing to kiss her and hold his baby girl and hear his kids’ laughter and voices and see their smiles. With every other job he’d been able to handle whatever was thrown at him; to just roll with the punches -literally, at times- and think quick on his feet and improvise if need be. But this is different; far more complex and dangerous. With the bounty on his head, it was hostile territory before he even stepped foot on it. And it isn’t just his life hanging in the balance. His entire world...his entire existence...is being threatened. The stakes have never been higher, and even one simple mistake, at his hand or someone else’s, could destroy everything. 

Both hearing her voice and Koen’s tough love -along with a hearty meal- had done wonders to ease some of the emotional suffering; sleeping surprisingly well, waking only to take some pain meds and then immediately drifting off again. Waking had been another story; disoriented at first, hand blindly reaching for that warm, soft body that’s normally beside him, only for his fingers to encounter cold, vacant sheets. It had taken his brain several minutes to get over its confusion. Not even remembering he was even in Mumbai; initially questioning if she’d gone ahead without him when it came to the kids’ morning routines, then wondering why the hell it was so quiet. That’s when the fear and the panic kicked in; the feeling of absolute dread that something horrible had happened to his entire family. And if it hadn't been for the cautious hand Koen had put on his shoulder and his voice -surprisingly and uncharacteristically soft and soothing- saying “Easy, mate. Easy”, he’s pretty certain he would have had a full out panic attack. 

Three hours later and his nerves have finally calmed. The reality of the situation finally settling in; his focus and determination to get the job started taking precedence over all other feelings. The homesickness lingering yet not threatening to devour him; able to concentrate on the conversation at hand and the very detailed and concise report on the screen of the laptop open in front of him. He’s had little to say; silence enabling him to take in the information and plan around it. Organizing things in his mind; already designating the harder tasks to those he knows can handle them. With Rata in town now -having arrived from Cairns only two hours early- it makes four (including himself) with extensive military backgrounds; him and Nathan with time already served as mercs. Ovi, as eager as he is, is their weak link. He has no actual experience and this isn’t the ideal job for someone to be learning on. If the stakes weren’t so high, Tyler wouldn’t mind the kid tagging along and shadowing him. But he simply doesn’t have the time to babysit; his focus needing to be on getting shit done and keeping himself alive.

“You’ve said very little,” Anil comments, and moves to fill both their now empty coffee cups from a carafe in the middle of the table. They’ve sought privacy in the hotel’s private conference room that had been promised to the team upon arrival; sitting down before the briefing to ensure they’re on the same page.

“I’m not much of a talker.”

“A man of action and very few words.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You miss home.” It's a statement, not a question.

“That obvious, huh?”

Anil gives a small, sympathetic smile. “More than a little. But to be honest, it would concern me if you didn’t miss home. You take great pride in being a family man.”

“Only thing I’ve done with my life that I AM proud of,” Tyler admits.

“Not your military service or the people you’ve helped as a mercenary? They don’t fit in your vision of things to be proud of?”

“Not really. I wouldn’t say killing people for money is something to be proud of. Or boast about but my kids are. For the most, I know I’m doing right by them; that I’m not screwing them up too much at least. I’m giving them a good life and a pretty stable home and they’re growing up seeing me love and respect their mother. When I’m old and gray and they’re good people and they’re treating others right and loving with everything they have, THAT’S something I can go to my grave being proud of.”

Anil nods slowly, considering Tyler’s words.

“I was something I never thought I’d have again,” he says. “A wife. Kids.”

“You were married before? Had children?”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t see THAT in my file. I read it; I know it’s all in there.”

“To be quite honest, all I was concerned with was your track record as a mercenary. Your success rate.”

“My kill sheet, you mean.”

“That was one of your major selling points, I must admit.”

“My first marriage didn’t end well. There were a lot of things to blame, but my own issues and bad decisions played the biggest role. And I didn’t think I’d get that chance again; that I’d fucked up so bad I didn’t deserve to have it. And then I met Esme and things happened pretty quick between us and now…” he shrugs. “...now it’s almost seven years and five kids later.”

“You felt you weren’t worthy of a normal life?”

“I guess. I guess I felt my mistakes were too big to be forgiven and that I didn’t deserve to be happy. Then I got into the job and I figured no one would want to get with some guy that kills people for a living. And then came the drinking and the meds.”

“You were in a bad place,” Anil concludes.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. It GOT pretty bad. I started taking the most dangerous I could, hoping someone would put me out of misery because I was too much of a coward to do it myself.”

“You were meant to live Or a bullet WOULD have found you. Whether someone put it in you, or you did it yourself.”

“Someone DID do it for me. A fucking teenager. A street thug. Shot me from behind and left me with this…” he rubs the tips of his index and middle fingers over the scar on the side of his neck. “...I came so close. So fucking close. And the worst part of it? I came that close to right when I decided I didn’t want to die anymore. Because someone had come along and made me feel alive again after years of feeling like a goddamn zombie. She gave me a reason to stick around and keep going. This hope that her and I would make something out of nothing. And maybe that sounds crazy seeing as we only knew each other for a really short time, but it’s the way it went. I came close to losing everything but it really became anything.”

“She saved you,” Anil says “On that bridge.”

“She saved me in every way a person CAN be saved. And sometimes she still does. It hasn’t been easy; being with me. We've had a lot of hard, shitty times. But she’s been the one constant; the one thing I know I can count on. The one person that always has my back no matter what. She hangs in there. I don’t know why half the time, but I’m glad she does.”

“You should be grateful,” Anil gestures at him with his coffee cup. “For what you have. Especially for someone in your line of work.”

“Believe me, I am. No one else could do it. It takes a strong fucking person, and she’s the strongest I know. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Or my kids.”

“Which is why you’re here.”

“I don’t care how many lives I have to take. Or how I have to take them. No one fucks with my family. I don’t care how much money or power they have. Because I’ll stop at nothing to keep my family safe. Even if that means I have to give up my life to do it. As long they survive. That’s all that matters to me.”

“They will be safe,” Anil assures him. “At my home. I’ll have only my best men working. Around the clock. Nothing will happen to them under my roof, that I can promise. The best people on top of the best security system money can buy. No one is getting close to them.”

“And I want to believe you, mate. And I want to have all the faith in the world with your people and your money. But I want to put someone there, too. Someone I know I can trust. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I know they’d get the job done if it came down to it.”

“What is your man’s name? I'll do my own background check. I’ll…”

“Nik. Nik Khan. I know that you know who she is. That you have a ‘working relationship’, whatever the hell that means. She’s the one I want. I worked for her for years and I know how good she is. I know the things she’s capable of. That’s who I want.”

“And you’re certain that she’ll do this for you? Put all the differences aside to do you this one favor?”

“She was the one that offered all the help in the first place. I never went to her. I think it’s safe to say she’ll do it.”

“And Ovi? What do we do with him? It would be dangerous for him...and us...if we allowed him out onto the streets. He’s had no formal training, no real experience with weapons…”

“Use him as a translator. Bring him along when we need to get information out of someone. And he can drop his last name. That’ll make people cooperate.”

“It’s risky,” Anil sighs. “Playing that kind of game.”

“Mate, this whole fucking thing is risky. We don’t even know where most of these guys on the list are. He drops the old man’s name and people will come to him.”

“Lure them? Ambush them?”

“You got a better idea? Because I sure as hell don’t. We’re going into this shit blind. More than the half the addresses on that list you gave don’t even exist. So either you made a mistake, someone gave you bad information, or you’re fucking with me. And you better hope it’s not the last one.”

“It’s the information I was given. From my people. Truly you don’t think I would go into business with you, offer my own home to your wife and children, give you access to all my resources, if I was planning on double crossing you.”

“Six months ago, I had a guy jump through some pretty big hoops to get to me. So yeah, I think you just might.”

“I am in this for my brother,” Anil insists. “To avenge him. His life was torn apart by Mahajan and Amir Asif. Neysa lost her husband; Aarav lost his father.And for what? A battle between drug lords who deserved nothing more than being put down in the street like rabid dogs. I’m a man of action, myself. I don’t play games. If I wanted you dead, it would have happened already.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “Kind of bold of you to assume you’d be able to get it done and not wind up in a body bag yourself.”

“And that...that confidence...that edge…that’s exactly why I wanted to go into business with you. You and I are a lot alike, you know. Our backgrounds, our experiences, our trust and faith in our skills and our abilities. Alone, we’re dangerous. Together, even more so. Your family is safe; nothing will happen to them. I will make sure of that. And I’ll do whatever I have to make sure you return to them. We’re going to have many years of working together, and I very much look forward to it. We’ll be very successful. As long YOU don’t cross ME.”

“I don’t intimidate easily, mate. I’m not in this to fuck you over. I’m in this to protect my family. That’s all that matters to me. I’ll do what I need to go, you just make sure you get shit done. Mahajan can’t still be breathing when all of this is over.”

“Oh believe me,” Anil says. “He won’t be.”

****

While the others gather in the conference room prior to the team meeting, Tyler retreats to the front lobby. Finding a small alcove that exists of nothing more than a simple wooden bench; tucked away from the foot traffic and the noise. And he’s slightly annoyed when one of Anil’s men move closer in an effort to keep both an eye on him, and ward off any potential threats. There’s no way anyone could close without Tyler seeing them coming, and all the protection he needs sits in the holster on his right hip. 

He uses his personal cell to call home; both grinning and having to to hold it away from his ear when Millie answers with a shriek that even the ‘bodyguard’ can hear from ten feet away.

“Daddy! Mommy said you’d call before bed and you did! I knew you would! I knew that the bad guys wouldn’t stop you from calling us.”

“Nothing can stop me from talking to you guys.” The mere sound of her voice and the thought of that unruly hair, those huge blue eyes and that bright smile with its missing teeth, returns the tears to his eyes and the tightness to his chest. This is wrong. All so fucking wrong. Having to be apart from them in the first place. And that’s what makes the rage and the need for revenge begin to simmer yet again. That fact that someone ever put him...them...into this situation. 

“I miss you,” Millie says. “I miss you doing my hair before school. Mommy’s good, but she’s not as good as you at it. And I miss how you tuck me in. Like a Millie burrito. The monsters can’t get me when I’m a Millie burrito. Do we get to see you soon?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“How busy things get. There’s a lot going on and I can’t see you guys until some of it is taken care of. But Auntie Nik will be there; when you arrive. I asked her to go and stay with you guys. Is that okay?”

“I guess. It’s not her fault that you have to leave. Not this time, anyway. But when will you get to see us? Soon?”

“I hope so. Are you okay?”

“I’m a bit sad,” she admits. “Because you’re not here. And ‘cause I don’t get to see you for a bit. And mommy’s sad too. She won’t admit it, but I know she is. Her eyes don’t look the same when you’re gone. When you’re here, her eyes are really sparkly and she smiles a lot. But now her eyes aren’t sparkly and she isn’t smiling much. And that hurts my heart; to see mommy sad. Why is she like that? We’re going on a trip. That should make her a little bit happy, right?”

He clears his throat noisily, then runs a hand over his face. Placing it against his forehead, eyes closed, elbow perched upon his knee. “She’s probably just tired. You guys are being good, I hope. You’re not giving her a hard time, are you? Eating all your dinner? Cleaning your rooms?”

“We’ve been good. We haven’t been fighting or arguing. I haven’t punched anyone in the face. Yet.”

“How about you not punch them in the face EVER.”

“Can I KICK them in the face?”

“No kicking, no punching, no head butts. No nothing. You can’t go through life beating people up because they make you mad.”

“But isn't’ that what you do?” Millie inquires. “People make you mad and you get to beat them up. That’s your job.”

“There’s a little more to it than that.”

“Sometimes you get to kill them?”

Tyler sighs. “Sometimes.”

“But they deserve it because they try to kill you first. So you have to kill them. That makes it okay ‘cause you don’t want to die. And you don’t want mommy or any of us to die either.”

He frowns. “What…?”

“I heard you, daddy. I heard you talking to mommy. I was pretending to be asleep, but I heard you guys talking. About why we’re really leaving. Because the bad guys said they were going to hurt us. So you wanted us to be closer so you could protect us if you had to.”

He has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep a string of expletives from tumbling from his mouth. This is NOT what he wanted. It’s the last goddamn thing he wanted.

“Daddy, it’s okay,” Millie says. “I’m not scared. The bad guys don’t scare me anymore because I know you can beat them up and you won’t let them anywhere near us. You always protect us. Always. You’re not gonna stop now.”

“I’ll never stop protecting you. Not even when you’re married and have kids of your own.”

She giggles. “I don’t think my husband would like my dad around all the time.”

“He doesn’t have a choice. And he won’t protect you like I do. No one can do that. Do me a favor, yeah? Don’t tell your brothers what you know. Keep it to yourself, okay? And don’t tell your mother either; she’s worried enough. She doesn’t need to be worried about that too. Hear me?”

“I hear you. I’ll keep my mouth shut, I promise. If the bad guys DO find us, will you come and see us then?”

“Of course I will. In a heartbeat.”

“But they won’t, right? Find us?”

“You’ll be safe,” Tyler assures her, then looks up as Nik hovers two feet away, hands shoved in the pockets of her well tailored slacks; concern in her eyes and furrowing her brow. And he gives her a small, almost weary smile before adding, “Auntie Nik will make sure you’re safe. You can trust her. I trust her. With you and your brothers and your sister. And your mom. No one else I trust to watch over your guys. I gotta go. I got some things I have to take care of. I love you.”

“I love you too, daddy. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Tell your mom I’ll call her a bit later. Give her a huge hug and a kiss from me.’”

“I will. Are you still wearing your bracelet?”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’m never going to take it off. And you’re right; I DO think of you when I look at it.”

“I’m going to make a matching one for me. So that when I look at mine, I’ll think of you and smile. Because I really miss you. I miss you reading me bedtime stories and taking me surfing and fishing and all that fun stuff. It hurts my heart and my tummy when you’re not here. I don’t like it when you’re gone and I can’t hug you.”

“I don’t like being gone either.” His voice wavers with emotion. “It hurts my heart too. I’ll see you soon, though. I promise.”

“Not soon enough though.”

“No. Definitely not soon enough.”

“I love you, daddy. We’ll talk soon, yeah?”

“Very soon,” he assures her. “I love you, Amelia. Remember that, okay?”

“I will,” she promises, and then disconnects the call.

***

  
He presses end on his cell, then sits staring at the blank screen for several minutes. Thankful that Nik doesn’t speak or make a move to approach him. Simply giving him the space he needs to cope with all the emotions surging through him; loneliness, heartache. Rage that Mahajan has even threatened his family and put him in such a position. Guilt because he’d even gotten his kids dragged into such a huge, shitty mess. Had he just pushed her away seven years ago...if he just hadn’t been so fucking selfish...none of this would be happening.

“You okay?” Nik finally asks, when he shoves the phone into the side pocket on his cargo pants and then lays his palms against his forehead; thumb rubbing at one temple, index finger working on the other.

“Do I look okay? Do I honestly look okay?”

“I’m sorry; that was a stupid question to ask. Mind if I sit?”

“I don’t give a shit. There’s not much I give a shit about anymore.”

“I know this is hard,” she says, as she sinks onto the bench beside him. “I know what this is doing to you; being away from them.”

“No. I don’t think you do. And if this is where you lecture me about getting my shit together and how I need to put my personal life aside and not get emotionally involved or some other bullshit you’re going to spew, save it. I know what I have to do. And when it’s time to do it, I’ll do it. Just right now…”

“All I was going to say is that I understand. I get how hard it is for you; leaving home. And how difficult it is this time around, considering the circumstances.”

“You’re not going to tell me that is all my fault? That I’m a selfish bastard for ever getting married and having kids? For bringing this shitty fucking life in the first place?”

“Nope. I’m not. Because you’re already busy saying all of that about yourself. I will tell you it’s bullshit. That you deserve a normal life. That out of all the people who tried this while still doing the job, you’re the one who deserved it the most. That you’re pretty much the envy of everyone who's tried to have that kind of life but have failed miserably. No one hates you the way you hate yourself, Tyler. And I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“So is that why you’re out here?” He asks. “You think I need to be talked down off some ledge? I’m fine, Nik. I miss home. I miss my wife and my kids and I’m fucking pissed that all of this is even happening. But once this gets going, once I get back into it and that first name is crossed off that list? All that is going to matter is crossing off the rest.”

“It won’t be that easy. You know that. Because Mahajan will know it’s you. IF he doesn’t already know you’re here. Only takes one rat to sink a ship.”

Tyler scowls. “You think we have a rat? That we have something to worry about?”

“I think there’s people around you that you shouldn’t trust. That you’re relying on a little too much. That you should step back and rely on yourself, not them. I’ve known you a long time, Tyler. I know how you work. And you work best on your own. Don’t put too much into other people. That’s all I’m saying.”

“What do you know?”

“Nothing for certain yet. Just things I’m looking into. You’ll be the first one I come to if I get the answers I want. And I’m sorry; for the way things ended between us.”

“Nik...not now...there was never an us…”

“I don’t in that way. I mean work wise. Friendship wise. You left for a reason; a very good reason. And I should have accepted that.”

“You also should have accepted that I was married and just left me the fuck alone. Instead of trying to screw up my life. Over and over again.”

“I’ve apologized for that. A million times. And if I could take it all back, I would. I was hurt. That you chose her over me.”

“I didn’t want you in that way,” Tyler argues. “There was no choice to make. It was never between you and her. It was just her. That’s it. And I’ve told you this how many times? Even if Esme hadn’t come along, there still wouldn’t have been an us. But she DID come along. And she’s my wife and the mother of my kid and if you’ve got some ulterior motive behind being here or you’re gonna start your shit again…”

“No ulterior motive. I want to put everything behind us. Leave the past where it should be. Can we do that? Or least TRY to do that? I know it won’t be an overnight fix. It’s going to take a while to get over everything. But isn’t it worth a try?”

Tyler nods. “I guess. But I’m serious, Nik. I’m not letting you screw up my marriage. Because I love her. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And I’m not leaving her, or my kids, for you or anyone else.”

“I know. And I hear you. Loud and clear. And speaking of kids, Addie is gorgeous. Esme let me hold her at the party. All that dark hair and those huge dark eyes? She’s definitely the odd duck out of the five. A very beautiful odd duck, mind you. And so tiny!”

“Yeah, she’s a wee one. So much like her mom. Looks just like her. And Esme deserved that; having at least one just like her.”

“I hear you even have a pet name for her.”

He grins. “You did, did you. Who told you that?”

“Don’t be shy about it. Or embarrassed. I think it’s cute; daddy’s little peanut. A guy like you turning into a big softie when it comes to his kids. Especially with his little girls. There’s something very compelling about you as a girl dad. It’s so easy to picture you boys; not so much with daughters. This big, tough guy with all his tattoos and his edginess and his ability to kick ass at the drop of a hat, getting all weak over his little girls.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I don’t mean like THAT, and you know it. I mean it in a good way. There was always that compassion and that humanity lingering inside of you, and it just took Millie and Addie to get it out of you. Not that the boys didn’t help. I’m just saying that you, with girls? There’s something pretty special about that.”

Tyler grins. “I thought you were going to say it’s karma considering some of the not so wise choices I’d made when it came to where I stuck my dick,”

“Your taste in women often had me both bewildered AND concerned. But there’s no karma involved. You were given those girls because you’re damn good at taking care of them. Of ALL of them. Never thought I’d see you braiding hair and playing Barbies and having tea parties.”

“Fuck, don’t say it so loud, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Trust me, nothing takes away from the fact that you do the job as well as you do. And it’s good to see you back at it. A bit of a surprise, mind you. And I really do wish you’d have given me a heads up. About the business thing.”

“I should have,” Tyler admits. “I realize that now. But it was never about fucking you over. Or about revenge. It was about needing something to do. I wanted back in the job without being right in it. And starting a business made all the sense in the world. I wouldn’t have to leave home as much. It’s not fair that Esme’s been practically raising those kids on her own. This way, I can do the job, take care of my family, and provide them. That’s all it was ever about. And I’m sorry. That I didn’t reach out to you and let you know. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She smiles, then leans her shoulder into his. “That means a lot. Especially coming from you. I know it’s not easy for you to say the ‘s word’.”

He chuckles. “No. It’s not.”

“And I’m sorry too, For reacting the way I did.”

“Nerves were already pretty raw after New Zealand,” Tyler reasons. “I guess we both could have handled things different. And thank you; for offering to help. Coming here yourself, bringing your people, your resources. I appreciate it.”

“You’d do the same thing for me if I needed the help.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I would. In a heartbeat.”

“I spoke to Anil. He told me what you want. Me at the house.”

“I understand if you don’t want to do it. I know you probably came here wanting to get your hands dirty. So if you don’t want to do it…”

“I DO want to do it. And thank you. For trusting me with that. With THEM. I know that’s not easy for you; trusting people with your family.”

“If there’s anyone I DO trust with them, it’s you. Because I know what you’re like when you’re on a job. How focused and committed you are. I know you won’t let anything happen to them. I also know it’s probably going to be really weird with Kyle there.”

“I’m going into this with no emotional ties. I’m going into this like I would any other job. I’m all in. Nothing will happen to Esme or the kids. Not on my watch.”

“Thanks, I mean, I’d rather be there myself, but…”

“You need to do what you have planned. That’s where your focus needs to be. Trust yourself, Tyler. Your skills, your instincts. Trust yourself first and foremost. Promise me that.”

“Nik, what…?”

“Promise me. The things I’m looking into...the people I’m looking...I’ll tell you all about them when...and if...I get answers. For right now, trust yourself out there. Only yourself. Got it?”

He nods.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” she says, then stands up and smooths down the back of her slacks. “You do that, you’ll live through this.”

****

“The plan is to have most of you working in pairs,” Yaz says, as he stands at the head of the conference table, casting images from his laptop to the hotel provided smart board. “We’ve partnered Koen and Rata together given their extensive military service alongside each other, and Anil and Nathan together until things move to the prison at a later date. Then, Anil will work with Ovi to gain access to Mahajan. The prison, as rundown and overcrowded as it is, has extremely tight security and an army of heavily armed guards. It won’t be just as easy as going in there, carrying out the job, and getting out. More time and effort will be needed for that, and we may end up needing more people. We’ve got Nik going to head security at Anil’s private residence, and Tyler working on his own. For now.”

“Why on his own?” Koen speaks up. “Why isn’t he with anyone?”

‘Because he has the experience the rest of you don’t have,” Yaz explains. “And he works better by himself. This isn’t about large scale take downs, so if any of you were thinking that kind of thing would happen and this would all be over with quick? I’ve got some bad news for you. We are going after two or three at a time. And given what Tyler was able to do in Dhaka when he took down an entire apartment on his own…”

“That was even years ago,” Koen interjects. “A lot’s changed in seven years.”

“I work better alone,” Tyler speaks up. “You heard what Yaz said. I don’t need to be babysitting. I’ve got shit to do and I don't need to be worrying about whoever’s tagging along.”

“It’s not safe for anyone to be working alone, never mind you,” Koen argues. “Aren’t you the one with the bounty on his head? Wouldn’t it make sense if you’re the one with a sidekick watching YOUR ass?”

“I don’t need anyone watching my ass. I’m not a rookie. Worry about yourself, for fuck sakes.”

“Tyler has been doing this for years,” Nik says. “His record speaks for itself. He knows what he’s doing and if he needs help, he’ll ask for it.”

“Like hell he will,” Koen grumbles. “This reeks of you,” he addresses Tyler. “Always thinking you can handle shit on your own.”

“When it comes to the job, I can. So why don’t you just sit there, shut up, and let Yaz continue. Anil and I are running this and this is what we came up with. Deal with it.”

“How come I don’t get to go with anyone?” Ovi inquires. “What am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait until I’m needed?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” Tyler replies. “You’re here to translate. And when we need you to translate, we’ll let you know.”

“I didn’t come all this way just to translate. That’s not what we talked about. I should be going with you.”

“Because that worked out so well the last time?” Tyler asks. “Last time we were in a job together, mate, I ended with me getting shot in the throat. I don’t want a repeat of that.”

“I was a kid then! I was fourteen. I’m almost twenty one. And I’m a merc now so…”

“Whoa...whoa…” Yaz holds up his hands. “...you are not a merc. You’re not even close to being a merc. That and that…” he nods at Nik, then Nathan, “...those are mercs. That…” he gestures towards Tyler. “...that’s a merc. You’re a baby merc.”

“He’s not even out of the womb yet,” Nathan chuckles. “Fetus merc.”

“Fuck you,” Ovi snarls. “Tyler’s been training me. On weapons, hand to hand combat…”

“And you’re nowhere ready to be out there,” Tyler says. “You think a few hours of training and you’re done? Do you know how long it takes to get used to doing this? To be confident doing it? You just don’t walk about knowing the ropes. You got a long way to go.”

“I know how to shoot a gun.”

Rata scoffs. “Even I know it’s not as easy as just knowing how to shoot a gun. Do you have any experience? Any military background? Time at a shooting range? Anything that suggests you can properly deal with the weapons we’re handling?”

“I shot Gaspar,” Ovi points out.

Rata frowns, then turns to Koen. “Who the fuck is Gaspar?”

Koen shrugs.

“That was a handgun,” Tyler reminds Ovi. “And it won’t do shit for you when you’ve got an automatic rifle being fired at you. You’ll be dead before you even get one shot off. You’re not going out there. You’re going to stay here and help where you’re needed.”

“I’m needed out there!” Ovi argues. “You shouldn’t be out there alone!”

“Now the kid and I are agreeing on something.” Koen says. “You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

“You shit the fuck up,” Tyler orders. “I’m YOUR boss, remember? This is what’s going to happen. Either you fucking deal with it or leave. I don’t have time for your shit. Or…” he glares at Ovi “...your shit. Do I need to remind you whose family these people are going after? I don’t need anyone’s fuck ups destrying my entire life. So if either of you have an issues with how things are going to go, there’s the fucking door.”

Nik pushes her chair closer to the table and lays her hand on his shoulder, effectively calming him. “The plan that Anil and Tyler have come up with is sound,” she says. “It makes the most logical sense. He does work better on his and that’s the way he prefers it. Until either of you have the experience he does and it's either of your entire lives on the line, keep your opinions to yourself. No one needs to hear them.”

“As I was saying,” Yaz continues. “These are the teams you’ll be working with. At least to start out. Things are subject to change as they go on and become increasingly difficult. Once Mahajan realizes Tyler is in Mumbai and behind the killings of his men, things will heat up and then the game plan will have to change. Now you’ll all be fitted with radios and earwigs. State of the art. Wireless. So if you have to go into a place where your mark is, they won’t make you the second you walk through the door. Communicating with each other is to be done only through the SAT phones you were given yesterday. They can’t be bright by any outside source; I’ve made sure of it. From here on out, the marks will only be referred to by number. One to twenty five; no names. Just faces and locations. The list will be split between teams and you’ll go from there. 

So far, only we’ve only been able to verify the locations of one to four. One and two will be handled tomorrow,” he brings two black and white photographs up on the smart screen. “There are our first two marks. One and two. Tyler will be in charge of taking them out and I think it’s only fair he gets the first shot. Every morning at nine am, one and two exit their respective residences on the twelfth floor of the Grand Hyatt. Tyler will enter the elevator on the fourteen floor. I’ll have my own eyes inside the elevator, but I will take out the hotel’s security cameras in the elevator and on floors eight to fourteen. The only problem is that I can only have them down for three minutes before the hotel backups kick in. So Tyler has those three minutes to enter the elevator, wait for one and two to board, carry out the job, and then get off somewhere before the eighth floor. He’ll exit the hotel down the south stairwell, which doesn’t have security cameras.. Once he’s on the stairs, he’s safe to move at his own speed. But between the time he gets on the elevator and gets off it, he has three minutes. That’s it.”

“Three minutes is not a lot of time,” Koen remarks.

“About two minutes more than I need,” Tyler says. “Why are you sorry about what I’m doing?”

“Well someone has to worry about you. You obviously don’t give a shit about yourself. And neither do any of these people enabling you and your bullshit. Makes no sense that you’re the one working alone.”

“Wish I was working alone.” Nathan speaks up. “No offence, Anil. But I’ve been working alone since Nik hired me and all of a sudden I have to team up with someone? Gonna be a hard adjustment.”

“I am more than capable of being out there by myself,” Tyler informs Koen. “It’s how I’ve always done it.”

“Didn’t work so well for you in Bangladesh, did it.”

Tyler scowls. “We are NOT bringing Dhaka into this. Up until Mahajan fucked me and Saju killed almost my entire team and tried to kill me to get Ovi off me, everything was fine. Everything went fucking great. And had I not been played, Dhaka wouldn’t have ended the way it did.”

“But it DID end that way,” Koen argues. “And it almost ended permanently for you. And Esme. If you’d had someone with you…”

“I didn’t need someone with me. Were you there?”

“I’m just saying…”

“Were you there? Were you in the apartment when I took out all those hostels? Were you in the forest? Or on the streets? Were you on the bridge? Were you?”

“No. I wasn’t. But…”

“Well I was. I was there. And I did what I had to do. With the resources I had. So don’t fucking sit there and act like you know how things went. You have no goddamn idea. So get off my ass and worry about what you need to do. This isn’t up for debate. This is the way it’s going to be. Don’t like it, leave.”

“You’re not invincible you know,” Koen informs him. “You think you are. You may think ‘cause you survived that bullet that you can survive anything. But I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. That your way of thinking is fucked and you need to stop just thinking about yourself and think about your wife and your kids.”

“I’m done,” Tyler pushes his chair away from the table and stands. “I’m not sitting here and listening to your shit. You weren’t there seven years ago. You weren’t the one who took a bullet to your neck. Don’t sit there like you’re a fucking expert on Dhaka. And don’t you EVER preach to me about how I treat my wife and my kids. Everything I do is for them. Every fucking decision I make is about them and what’s best for them.”

“It’s alright.” Nik attempts to diffuse the situation, wrapping her fingers around Tyler’s wrist and tugging on his arm. “Just sit down and let Yaz finish. There’s no reason to…”

“I don’t need to be there. I know what I’m doing. The rest of you need to figure your shit out. And if any of you don’t like what Anil and I are doing, just leave. I don’t need your shit. I’ve got enough crap on my plate as it is. The last thing I need is to sit here and listen to people bitch and moan.”

“Let’s just get through this,” Nik suggests. “Let’s just sit down and let Yaz finish and…”

“Let him go,” Koen says. “It’s what he does. He runs. When he doesn’t get his way or he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. He’s good at that. Running.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Alright...alright…” Yaz steps in front of Tyler before he can advance in Koen. “...everyone’s on edge and everyone’s getting a little heated. Take it easy. Let’s walk.” He drapes his arm across Tyler’s shoulders, leading him out into the hall and letting the door click shut behind them.

“I don’t need to be in there,” Tyler fumes.

“I agree. You know what’s up. You know what you’re doing. Why don’t you go and get something to eat. Or go work out. Go beat the shit out of the heavy bag for an hour or two. Just get your head on straight, that’s all I ask. We need you focused. Head in the game. Got it?”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing, Yaz. I’ve done this before.”

“I know. So go and calm down and do whatever you gotta do to get a handle on this. Because you’re not going to be any good to anyone if you don’t get your shit together.. And your wife and your kids are depending on you to get this done and to get it done right. That’s all that matters. THEY’RE all that matters. Right?”

Tyler sighs heavily, then nods in agreement. 

“Go cool down,” Yaz says. “Call home. You and I can sit down and talk about this later. Go on…” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the elevator. “...before I drag you away myself.”

Tyler smirks. “I’d like to see you try.”

“It’s us smaller guys you gotta watch out for. We’re sketchy. Cagey. Haven’t you learned anything from being married to Esme for so long? The little ones are the most dangerous. Now go. Call home. Talk to your wife. Tell your kids a bedtime. They gotta be missing you. And I know you’re missing them.”

“I’m a fucking weak bastard, aren’t I.”

“Because you love your family? There’s nothing weak about that. It’s being a goddamn human being, Tyler. Or somewhere along the line did you forget that that’s what you are? You’re not a fucking robot. You FEEL things. If you didn’t, THEN I’d be worried. You’re not the guy you were back in Dhaka. You’re not even the guy you were six months ago in New Zealand. So go and be human. Call home. Tell your wife you miss her and you love her. Say the same thing to your kids. Because you’re going to damn well regret NOT saying those things if this all goes to shit. And you don’t want that on your conscience.. If something happens them…to any of them...and there’s shit left unsaid, that will fuck with your head. You’ll never survive that.”

A grin plays on his lips. “When did you get all wise and all knowing? Knock one girl up and suddenly you’ve got all the answers to life’s biggest questions?”

“Believe it or not, most of this I learned from watching you. How you are when you’re away from all of this. The way you are with Esme and the kids. You’re totally different with them. You’ve found this separation between job you and husband and dad you and that’s fucking admirable. And you can bitch all you want about it makes you soft or that it makes you look weak or pathetic or whatever horseshit you tell yourself, but nothing can be further from the truth. And if a guy like you can find that..that balance...that kind of peace...it gives the rest of us hope that we can too. And fuck anyone who thinks differently.”

“You’re good for my ego, Yaz.”

“Your ego needs to hear this shit sometimes. Because whether you want to believe it or not, you’re the horrible person you think you are. You think you don’t deserve the life you have. And I get it. WHY you think that. But you’ve got six people at home that love you and need you and want you around. And you do deserve that. So go and get your shit together. Clear your head. Talk to your family. Say the things you need to say. It’ll do you some good.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You don’t want regrets, man. If shit does go wrong and something happens to you, don’t go out of this world with things left unsaid. Because that’ll be on Esme’s mind for the rest of her life. And that’s not fair to her.”

“This whole life isn’t fair to her.”

“But she chose it. When she stuck around for you. That’s what you keep forgetting. It was her choice to be with you. And nothing you could have done or said, would have changed her mind. You got a great life, Tyler. You gotta hang onto it. No matter what .”

“That’s why I’m here. So I don’t lose that life. So I don’t lose her. Or any of my kids.”

“Take that into tomorrow. That rage you’re feeling. That need for revenge. You take that into tomorrow and the day after and the day after that? You’re walking away from here. You’re going home. You don’t get your head sorted out, you’ll be going home in a body bag. And that’s not what your family needs. Get your shit together. Go do whatever you have to do to get your head in the game, alright?” Yaz claps him on the shoulder. “Wanna go grab something to eat later? You can give me some daddy advice.”

“Yeah,” Tyler gives a small smile. “I can do that.”

“Although I don’t know if I should take advice from you; you were stupid enough to do it FIVE times.”

“Might be six. Never know.”

“You really are a crazy bastard,” Yaz chuckles, and then playfully shoves him in the direction of the elevator.


	57. Chapter 57

Even with five children under the age of six, she can’t remember the last time she experienced this level, this particular brand, of exhaustion. Not even when caring for infant twins and a one year old or during the most difficult pregnancies that came with numerous complications, more than a handful of legitimate scares, and eventually complete bed rest. Not even the three years that had followed Tyler’s initial return to the game, which saw her practically raising three little ones alone while he devoted every waking moment to Nik and whatever job she brought his way; hostility and anger quickly building and joining the ranks with profound stress and worry. Even then she hadn’t felt like this; the seemingly chronic brain fog, body running on autopilot while simply going through the motions of everyday life. So tired that she actually can’t sleep; her body ready to give in and surrender completely, yet her mind running on all cylinders. So many things running through her already troubled and worried brain. The last minute questioning of if she is doing the right thing for her children and if everything needed is packed away in the staggering amount of suitcases cluttering the living room. Is her sanity going to survive not only travelling with that many kids? And will she be able to keep them happy and occupied and oblivious to all the drama and chaos once they get there? There’s no telling how long they’ll spend in Mumbai. It could be just a few days. It could turn into a few weeks. It may even stretch into a month of two. It all depends on just how smoothly things will actually go. There’s no such thing as an easy, uncomplicated job. Each one is dangerous and unpredictable in their own way. And with someone like Mahajan serving as agitator, the stakes have never been higher. Money and influence go a long way. As does intimidation. And he has plenty of all three. 

Tanner stirs in his sleep; a handful of quiet whimpers and heavy sighs and tiny sniffles. He’d had a rough day both at school and upon his return home; dissolving into tears at the drop of a dime, complaining about both stomach and headaches, turning down even his preferred activities and favorite foods. Not even Saju and his puppy antics and cuddles with Mac who refused to leave his side had done the trick. Not even the slightest of smiles playing on his face when his twin brother and older sister did their best to try and cheer him up. He’d been his worst at bedtime; crying for nearly half an hour in the darkened room, until his sobs became so powerful that they actually made him throw up. After giving him a bath and getting him into fresh pyjamas, she’d taken him to bed with her. His mood improving slightly at the idea of being able to sleep in the big bed with her and being able to use his dad’s pillow, yet refusing to settle until he was allowed to wear one of Tyler’s hoodies. The garment miles too large, but effectively soothing him when the zipper was pulled up as high as it could go and the hood over his head. 

He’d quickly fallen asleep after that, comforter by the familiar smell clinging to the sweater and the warmth provided by both it and his mother’s body. Laying on his side with an arm across her chest and his head in an awkward spot on her upper arm; hand falling asleep a long time ago, and the accompanying -and almost painful- pins and needles serving as yet another thing preventing her from finding rest. Even with his baby face and smooth, flawless features, Tanner looks even younger in his sleep. Smaller, even. Seeming much more fragile and vulnerable than she knows he actually is. He’s the tinier of the two boys, but far tougher than he’s ever given any credit for. So sick, fragile, and weak when he’d been born that none of the doctors or nurses had thought he’d ever make it out of the NICU alive; even given her and Tyler numbers for social workers and bereavement counsellors and contact information for funeral homes that were considered the best at handling babies and their grieving, distraught parents. It had come as quite the surprise to all of the naysayers when he’d fought back as hard he had; released from the hospital a month and a half later without any of the long term and life alternating complications they’d been told he’d have. 

Now he’s the healthiest of all the kids. Barely getting even a runny nose or an ear infection let alone something more serious like the flu. He’s not a big kid; not nearly as tall or as heavy as his twin. But he’s a strong one. And she watches him as he sleeps; lips slightly parted, impossibly long, dark eyelashes skimming the tops of pale, smooth cheeks, those wayward locks of hair -the exact ones his father has when sporting that same haircut- falling across his forehead. So pure and so innocent; so many deep and powerful emotions existing in such a little body. And when she reaches across her body with her free arm and uses gentle fingertips to push his hair from his face, he gives a long, shaky sigh and his hand grabs a hold of her t-shirt; fist tightly gripping the fabric.

“Mommy…” Tanner whimpers, lips curving into his infamous pout.

“It’s okay, baby boy.” Her voice barely above a whisper as she combs her fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his sweaty brow, each eye, and then the bridge of his nose. “I’m right here. Mommy’s right here.”

“Don’t leave,” he pleads. “Don’t leave too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Esme assures him. “I’m staying right here with you. But can you do me a solid and lift up for a second? You’re on my arm and can’t feel my fingers anymore.”

His eyes are still closed as he sits up; groggily swaying from side to side. And she breathes a sigh of relief when she’s finally able to pull her arm free. “Daddy falls asleep on that same arm all the time,” she says, as he settles down next to her once more, this time in a fetal position with his butt pressed into her side. “You’re awfully heavy for a little guy.”

“I’m not little,” Tanner protests.

“To me you are. You’ll always be little to me.”

“I’m strong.”

“Yes, you are. Very strong. Like your daddy. You’re both very, very strong.”

“One day I’ll have big muscles too.”

“One day. But not for a long while. I don’t want you growing up that fast. I want you to stay little for a while longer, okay?”

“Okay, mommy,” he sleepily agrees, then yawns noisily.

“Now go back to sleep,” she gently orders, rolling over onto her side and wrapping an arm around that slender frame when he wiggles closer to her; always needing the security of touching her in some way. “It's late and we have a long day tomorrow.”

Tanner slips over onto his side to face her; blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight that streams through the windows. “I wanna see daddy.”

“You’ll see daddy as soon as he can come and see you. I know you miss him; I miss him too. But what he’s doing...the people he’s helping...it’s very, very, VERY important and he can’t just drop everything to come and see us. Even if he DOES want to.”

“He wants to see us?”

“Of course he does. He’s not staying away because he wants to. It’s because he HAS to.”

“Are the people he’s helping more important than us?”

“Baby boy, no one is more important to daddy than us. Everything he does is for you and your brothers and your sisters. And me. You’re little right now and it doesn’t make much sense, I know. But daddy loves you so much. More than anything and anyone else in the world.”

“Even more than surfing and vegemite?”

“Even more than those.”

He manages a small smile. “That’s a lot. He loves me THAT much?”

“There are no words to even describe how much he loves you. If you tried to count how much, you wouldn’t be able to because you’d run out of the numbers; none of them go THAT high. And you remember what he told you? About how it was his idea that we go to India?”

Tanner nods.

“It was his idea because he wanted us to be closer to him and not so far away. Because he would worry about us THAT much. Everything your daddy does is for you. For all of us. It’s hard to understand when you’re little.”

He’s silent as he considers her words, fingers fidgeting with the pendant around her neck. “He’s going after bad guys, yeah?”

“There’s a few bad guys he needs to take care of,” Esme confirms.

“Is he going to die?”

“Why would you ask that? Why would he die?”

“He almost died. Before I was born. Before you found out Millie was in your tummy.”

“That’s a long time ago.”

“But it still happened. He still almost died.”

“But he didn’t. And that’s what matters. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

Tanner nods, lower lip and chin wobbling as tears sparkle in his eyes. “I don’t want daddy to die. I’d miss him so much. And he said he wasn’t ever going to go away again and he did. So what if he dies this time?”

“Tanner...come here…” She gathers him into both arms, pressing kisses to his forehead and his cheeks and his lips. “Daddy’s very strong and he’s very smart. Way smarter than the bad guys. He’s going to be fine. He may get some bumps and bruises and maybe some stitches and a broken bone or two, but he’s going to be okay. He’s tough, right?”

“He’s the toughest.”

“That’s right. He is. But he’s also very smart and very careful. Especially knowing that he has you guys to come home to. And there’s no one else in the world that you can trust like you can trust daddy. He’s the person I trust.”

“I trust him. And you. ‘Cause you’re mommy and no one loves me like you do. When I was a baby and I was sick, you used to stay at the hospital with me.”

“You were really tiny then,” Esme muses. “Like Addie. Well, no one is tinier than Addie. But you were a wee, little baby. How do you know I was there?”

“Daddy told me. He said you wouldn’t leave me there by myself. So he stayed home and took care of Millie and Teej and you stayed at the hospital to boss the doctors around.”

She laughs. “Is that what daddy said? That I bossed the doctors around?”

“He said that you’re tough and you’re like a momma bear and no one crosses a momma bear when it comes to her babies. And you made the doctors and nurses take care of me properly and that’s why I’m here. ‘Cause you wouldn’t let them give up on me.”

“No. I wouldn’t. And you’re here for MANY reasons. Because you’re tough and you’re strong and you’re smart and loving and so damn cute.”:

Tanner giggles when she covers his face with kisses. 

“And you’re meant to be here,” she adds. “Just like daddy is. Which is why he didn’t die and why he won’t die this time either. So don’t ever worry about that, okay? Nothing can stop daddy from coming home to you guys. Nothing. Trust me. I’ve known him for a long time.”

“Like a hundred years?”

“Okay, maybe not that long.”

“Fifty?”

“Just how old do you think I am, young man?”

“Not as old as daddy.”

“You are so lucky you said that,” she places a noisy kiss on his forehead, and he once again dissolves into giggles when she tickles his sides and tummy. “Do you want to try and sleep in your own bed again?”

“I wanna stay here with you. So you won’t be sad and lonely either. I know you get sad when daddy’s gone. So I’ll stay with you to make sure you don’t cry.”

“You have such a big, good heart. I want you to close your eyes and try and sleep, alright? We have a very busy day tomorrow. An exciting day. Can you do that for me? Try and sleep?”

Tanner nods.

“That’s my boy.” She kisses her forehead once more, then pulls him even tighter against her. Gently combing her fingers through his hair until she finally hears his breathing soften and even out and feels his body relax against hers.

****

It’s eight in the evening in Mumbai when he calls home. Hesitating at first; it’s after midnight in Australia and their flight for India leaves at seven in the morning. It won’t be an easy trip to make with five kids in tow; even with Kyle helping and being able to travel by one of Anil’s chartered jets instead of a commercial airline. But his earlier promises to Millie that he’d call her mother had been somewhat waylaid when a two hour workout in the hotel gym had been followed by a long, hot shower and a two hour nap. Only woken up by Yaz pounding on the door; a bag of take out food in one hand and a carry tray of drinks in the other. It felt good to hang out with him again. Sharing tales of old jobs both dangerous and relatively smooth and easy, laughing over the rare lighthearted and humorous times, even shedding a couple of tears for all the friends and colleagues that they’d lost during their years in the game. And then the talk turned to marriage and kids and Yaz’ fears and worries about becoming a father and time seemed to get away from them far too easily.

He calls her cell instead of the landline; less chance of waking either Kyle or the kids or sending Mac -with his bizarre gear of the ringer on the phone- into a frenzy. And she answers on the third ring, voice quiet and tone calm and even, but sounding very much awake.

“Someone should be asleep,” Tyler teases, as he relaxes in the middle of the bed, back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Someone was supposed to call hours ago,” Esme playfully retorts. “Are you okay? Is everything alright? What time is it there?”

“Only eight. And yeah, everything’s fine. I’m good. Time just got away from me. Worked out for a bit, fell asleep, Yaz showed up and we hung out and got talking. I wouldn’t have called so late, but…”

“I don’t care how late you call. As long as I get to talk to you. Hear your voice. Are you sure you’re okay? Nik called earlier and told me about the shit show that went down. That you almost throat punched Koen.”

“I didn’t even come close to throat punching him.”

“But you wanted to, by the sounds of it.”

“Well if you hadn’t have told him to babysit me…”

“First off, it’s not babysitting. It’s keeping an eye on you. Making sure you keep your head in the game and not fall back into old habits and bad patterns. And I know you know what I’m talking about. You admitted yourself you were slipping and if you’re alone, it WILL happen. And I know it’s the last thing you want; going back to the way things were. Drinking, the pain meds.”

“I’m not THAT weak. At least not as weak as you think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re stressed. I think you’re anxious. And when all that mixes together and the PTSD kicks off, the result is not good. I’m worried about you. And it makes me less stressed if I know someone is keeping an eye on you. I’m trying to hold it together too, you know. And it helps if I know you’re okay and that there’s someone that cares about you like I do.”

“I don’t need him up my ass twenty four hours a day. You’re not up my ass twenty four hours a day.”

“I agree that maybe he’s going a little overboard and he’s been a little protective.”

“A little?”

“But he’s your oldest friend and he’s seen you at your worst and he doesn’t want you going back to that,” Esme reasons. “And I trust him. Because I need you to be okay and come home to me and the kid and if I know he’s watching out for you…”

“You act like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like I’ve never done any of this before. I was into this long before you came along.”

“And long before I came along, you were an alcoholic addicted to pain meds and you were maybe a week away from killing yourself. I asked him to keep an eye on you because I love you, you insufferable, stubborn, pain in my ass. You are the strongest, toughest person I know. But even tough, strong people can break and I don’t want that happening to you. And I also don’t want to fight. Especially over this. And you can’t tell me you just called to fight. It’s like we can make up in our favourite way.”

“Of course I didn’t call to fight.”

“Then just accept that this is an argument you won’t win. I do what I do because I love you. Because I want you to keep your head on straight and you shit done so we aren’t stuck in Mumbai forever. So we just call it a day and come home and go on with our lives. And I know that’s what you want too.”

“What I really want is to be home right now,” Tyler says. “With you. With my kids. And not even worrying about all of this shit. That’s what I really want.”

“Trust me, that’s what I want too. There’s nothing in this world I want more than that. Well, except for that thing you do with your tongue.”

He grins. “What thing? There’s about two dozen. You gotta narrow it down.”

“You know which one. Besides, I can’t go into too much detail. Phone sex is off the table for tonight, sorry. I’m not alone.”

“Which one of the five?”

“Tanner. And two dogs. No wonder I can’t sleep. Both the dogs and the kid snore almost as bad as you do. And he pouts like you do. EXACTLY like you.”

“I don’t pout.”

“Yes, you do. I’ll even take a picture of him and send it to you. He’s doing it right now. In his sleep. It’s so cute. HE’S so cute. He’s looking more and more like you every day. You’re both so cute.”

“I’m going to let you have that.”

“You ARE cute,” she insists. “In your own way. You have your cute moments. He’s starting to sound like you, too. His accent is stronger than Millie’s and TJ’s put together.”

“Is he alright?”

“He had a rough day at school. The teacher said he was distracted and emotional. It didn’t get any better when he got home. Just crying at the drop of a hat, nothing cheering him up. He made himself sick he was crying so hard at bed time. He’s having a hard time. He misses you. We all do. But him most of all.”

“I remember when he practically didn’t even bother with me,” Tyler recalls. “Like he forgot he had two parents.”

“He’s always been a momma’s boy. Since he was a baby. But you saw him after New Zealand; when you came back. You saw how he feels about you; how much he loves you. And he’s so sensitive, Tyler. And he feels and loves so hard core. He’s so much like you. More than either of us realize.”

“I fucking hate that he’s going through this. That he has to deal with it all. Crying until he makes himself sick? Because of me? And you wonder why I think I’m selfish for bringing kids into this? That’s why. You think I want him feeling that way over me? He’s five. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe this is a sign you’re doing things right as a dad?” Esme counters. “That your child loves you THIS much? That he misses you like he does?”

“But he shouldn’t have to suffer like this. He’s a little kid.”

“He’s not suffering. He just has a lot of emotions inside that little body of his. He loves you. He loves being with you. When you were a kid and your dad left for even a couple of hours, were you sad or were you relieved?”

Tyler frowns. “What does that...?"

“Did you cry over him? Or were you happy he was gone?”

“Happy. He was a fucking dick, you know that.”

“Well your son is miserable when you leave. Because he loves you with everything that’s inside of him. He misses his daddy. Because he loves when you’re around and he loves all of the things you do together and all the ways you make him smile and laugh and make him feel loved right back. I hate him seeing him so worked up, too. But don’t think it’s an amazing thing that your child loves you THAT much? Or would you rather he not give a shit whether you’re here or not?”

“I’d rather he not have to deal with this shit at all.”

“But we ARE dealing with it. And we’re dealing with it as a family. Doesn’t this prove to you that you’re doing it right? That you’re NOT screwing them up? That’s you’re an amazing daddy and they love you and worship you. I mean, your Millie’s entire world. If that doesn’t make you realize that you’re a good dad, I don’t know what ever will.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You know what…?”

“What, Tyler James? What possible argument could you have to topple me?”

“I love you. So much. And you keep me sane when I think I’m fucking losing it.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Esme assures him. “Just rely on your gut. Your instincts. Those two have never, ever wrong. I mean, your gut told you to still go along with Nik’s Dhaka plan even AFTER you were told you had to be ‘pretend married’ to a mess like me. I think listening to your gut worked out pretty damn well for you.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It did. I’m glad I went along with it. No matter how stupid it sounded.”

“The best thing I ever did was let her talk me into that job. Everything should have been telling me NOT to do it. That it was going to be a big mess.”

“Well it did kind of turn into a big mess. At the end, anyway.”

“But we made it through. And we got a beautiful out of Dhaka. If there ever was a silver lining, Millie’s it. She made the bracelet by the way; to match yours. She wouldn’t go to bed until she made it. There’s no one earth she lives the way she loves you. I guess she takes after me in that respect. I feel the same way about you. No one else on earth the way I love you, either.”

“If you’re trying to make me cry, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

“I’m not exactly trying, but you’re beautiful when you cry. You’re a beautiful crier.”

“You’re a little off the reservation, you know that? Are you okay? You’re feeling good about all of this?”

“As good as I can, I guess. I’m holding it together. Mostly for the kids. And for you. And this whole thing with Nik…”

“I wanted someone there with you,” Tyler explains. “When it comes to the job, there’s no one I trust like I trust her.”

“It was a good call,” Esme says. “I trust her, too. At least when it comes to that. And she seems sincere; about wanting to patch things up and be friends again. I just don’t know if I can do that. Trust her in THAT way. Look how far she was willing to go to fuck things up between us. I don’t know if I can forgive her for all of that. Can you?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Her shit caused a lot of fucking damage. And it could have been a lot worse if either of us were weaker people.”

“I want to trust her. I even want to forgive her. But when someone is continuously trying to get your husband to cheat on you and she goes to lengths she did to make it happen…”

“But I didn’t. Cheat on you. I never have. I never will.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust, and you know that. And some of the things she said? Even when I was pregnant with Millie? Even the night before we got married? That was hurtful shit. It never...ever...should have been questioned if Millie was yours. And it’s been six years and sometimes I still think Nik feels that way.”

“I don’t know how she can. Look at the kid. It’s pretty damn obvious she’s mine.”

“That shit hurt,” Esme continues. “Everything she did hurt. And I can trust her to keep us safe, but I sure as hell can’t trust her around you. And if that makes me an insecure, possessive, overprotective wife…”

“I know how to say no,” Tyler reminds her.

“You’re not the problem and you know that. I’m just not ready to trust her that way yet. And I hope you can understand if I never can.”

“Baby, I always have your back. It’s a strictly business relationship. That’s it. We’ll keep it that way with Nik as long as you want us too. But I want her there at the house with you and the kids. Because it would be a huge weight off my shoulders if I didn’t have to worry so much about you guys. So if you could at least try and be a bit friendly…”

“Can you kiss and make up with Koen if I promise to?”

“You’ve seen him. You think I really want to kiss that face?”

“He’s only worried about you. He doesn’t know ‘job you’ like I do. I know you can handle it by yourself. He doesn’t. So cut him some slack, okay? He’s your friend. He loves you. He just wants you to keep it together.”

“Esme, I’m fine. I don’t need him constantly up my ass. Especially when I’m trying to get shit done. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do. But he doesn’t know THAT Tyler. He’s never been around him, So give him a break; he means well.”

“If I cut him some slack, you do the same with Nik?”

“I already said I would. And I appreciate her even offering to help you or even agreeing to come keep an eye on us. Are you really okay?”

“A little better today. I’m homesick.”

“I never thought I’d actually hear you admit that out loud.”

“There’s a lot of things I don’t say out loud that I should,” he says. “Never been able to swallow all my pride, I guess. But I love you. So much. And I’m sorry; for every time I hurt you or broke a promise or I made you feel like the job was more important than you. I know I’ve been a shit husband a lot of the time.”

“No. You haven’t. We just went through some bad times,” Esme reasons. But we got through them, right? Every single one. Hey, we’re the ones that are still together. Remember when everyone thought we wouldn’t get past the first year, never mind six?”

“I’m pretty glad you showed up on my front porch that day.”

“I’m pretty glad I lost all my common sense when Nik told me about the job and I actually went along with it. I know you think you’ve done a lot of things wrong, Tyler. That you don’t see yourself the way I do. But my life would totally suck without you in it. I should be pissed off at you for knocking me up in Dhaka, but I think it worked out for the best.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “So do I.”

“Hang on for a second. Someone is awake. And by someone I mean your son.”

“Let me talk to him. Maybe he’ll feel better if I do.”

“Okay,” she says. “Hang on.”

There’s a slight rustling as the phone is passed from one person to the other, followed by whispered conversation between mother and son.

“Who is it?” Tanner sleepily inquires.

“Someone who wants to talk to you,” Esme replies. “Say hello and find out.”

“Who dis?” The five year old asks, and Tyler can hear his wife both laugh and gently scold their son.

“Who do you think it is?”

“Daddy!” It comes out as a choked sob. “Daddy, I miss you!”

Emotion chokes at him, and he swallows noisily and blinks back his own tears. “I miss you, too. What’s going on? Mommy says you’re having a hard time. Wanna tell me about it?”

“I’m just really sad that you’re gone. And you won’t be there when we get to India. Why can’t you be there to see us? Why won’t you come and say ‘hi’ at least?”

“I wish I could, mate. But there’s reasons I can’t. Because I have to stay away for a little bit.”

“Are you sick? Is that why? Are you sick and you don’t want us to get sick?”

“Naw, I’m not sick. There’s just some things going on I can’t tell you about. And I wish I could tell you about them, but it’s adult stuff. You don’t need to know those things.”

“Adult stuff with the bad guys?”

“Exactly.”

“Why can’t you just beat them up and then come see us after? You could do it. You could beat them up and then come right away to visit.”

“It doesn’t work that way. I need to stay away for a little bit. Just a few days. And then I’ll come and see you guys. I’m not staying away because I want to. It’s because I need to. Because it’s what’s best for you and your brothers and sisters and your mom.”

“But you want to see us, right?”

“Of course I do, mate. I didn’t want to leave. I HAD to leave. I’d never leave you unless I had to. You believe me, right?”

“I believe you.”

“You don’t need to worry so much. I’m fine. Nothing’s going to happen to me. And in a few days I’m going to show up to see you and you’re going to see that for yourself. But right now, I need you to be strong, okay? For your mom. She needs you to be strong. Because she’s pretty lonely and she’s pretty sad and I need you to cheer her up.”

Tanner sniffles. “How?”

“I don’t know. Whatever way you can. Tell her she’s pretty. As often as you can. Tell her you love her. That she’s the best mom in the whole world.”

“She is. She IS the best mom in the world. And the prettiest.”

Tyler grins. “We’re pretty lucky, yeah? That she’s so pretty and she’s the best mom and wife in the whole world?”

“Yeah. We are.”

“I need you to get some sleep. It’s a long way to India and I don’t want you being grumpy and giving your mom a hard time. And once guy guys are here, I can call more often. No more time difference. You tell our mom I said to call me as soon as you guys are here, so I know you’re safe.”

“I will. I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too mate. So much. Now go to sleep and let me talk to your mom again. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. You be good.”

“You be good too,” Tanner says. “Give the bad guys shit.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “I will.”

“I think he’ll be okay now,” Esme says when she gets back onto the phone. “He’s smiling again, at least. And he’s wearing one of your hoodies. The brown Emery one. He looks so cute in it. I’ll send you a picture of that, too. We always say TJ is your mini me, but with the hair and now wearing your clothes, I think Tanner is taking over. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I always am when I talk to you.”

“And tomorrow’s the day?” she asks. “Everything starts?”

“My part at least,” Tyler sighs. “I’ve got two guys to take care of. In the morning.”

“At the same time”

“Yep. In an elevator.”

“Intriguing if not a little worrisome. Do you know how you’re going to do it? You can’t really walk into an elevator and start shooting. Or wearing a vest. They’ll see that for sure and know something is up. You are going to wear a vest, right?”

“Under my shirt. Hoodie over that. Doubt they’ll be paying enough attention to notice it. But you’re right; definitely won’t be able to just go in shooting. I’ve got it all figured out. Should go okay. Good thing is they won’t expect it, and we’re in a tight space so they can’t run.”

“And that means you can’t get away either if you need to. Please be careful, Tyler. I know you’ve done this hundreds of times, but it doesn’t mean I won’t worry. I know you can do it. I’ve seen what you can do. Still…”

“I’ve got it under control, baby. I promise. You need to get some sleep. Gonna be a long day.”

“Still wish you could be there when we arrive. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and keep my fingers crossed that you’ll somehow manage it.”

“Stranger things HAVE happened,” he reasons.

“Yeah. Tell me about it. I got with the likes of you,” Esme teases.

“Now THAT’S cold.”

“You know I love you. And I miss you and can’t wait to see you. Be careful tomorrow. Be safe.”

“I will,” he assures her. “Call as soon as you get to India. So I know you guys are okay. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“You definitely will. I love you, Tyler.”

“I love you too, Esme. I always have. Always will.”

“So you say. I bet you’re still going to trade me in for two thirty year olds when you turn sixty, though.”

“Never,” he grins. “I’m trading you in for three twenty year olds.”

“You wish,” she laughs. “Talk soon.”

“Very soon,” he promises, and then disconnects the call.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: profanity, graphic descriptions of violence, blood.
> 
> And massive thanks and love to @melmac who keeps me going when I just want to give up! <3 <3 <3

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Koen grumbles, as he sits at the table in front of the balcony door, tightly lacing his combat boots. They’re old and scuffed but still do the trick; well worn and trustworthy, having seen him through his last two tours while in active service.

“Well no one asked you what you think, so…” Tyler’s voice trails off as he shrugs into a black utility vest. Slipping it over a tight fitting white tank that will protect his skin from the vest’s harsh material, tightly securing the straps on both shoulders and across either side of his rib cage.

It’s nowhere near as comfortable as the one he’d owned prior; army green, years on the job leaving it riddle with indents left by bullets, knife slices in the fabric, and torn and fraying edges. There’d been something almost comforting about the ‘wounds’ it sported; testaments to all of the injuries -some in places that would have no doubt been fatal- he’d avoided and all the times he’d managed to walk away. He misses the familiarity of it; the weight of the kevlar between the layers, the smell that had clung to it, the various stains that had discolored the cloth. This one is still stiff against his body and still smells new despite the numerous times he’d worn it while working out in the gym. The extra weight adding an edge, a challenge, to even the most strenuous of workout, yet the rivers of sweat he’d shed had done little to leave his scent behind. This vest hasn’t earned its keep yet; hasn’t been put to the test and earned his trust and respect.

In less than an hour it will. It will be ‘do or die’ time. Either keeping him safe or failing miserably.

“You know I’m only on your ass ‘cause I care about ya,” Koen says. “‘Cause I give a rat’s ass about whether you live or die.”

“And I appreciate that, mate. I do. But I’ve been doing this for years. It’s what I do. Who I am. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You think so, do you? When have you ever been in a situation like this?”

“I’m always in situations like this. What do you think mercenaries do? We run into fucked up places and go against fucked up people and we face fucked up odds. And most of the time, we live to tell about it.” He snags an olive green shirt from the army rucksack; two sizes bigger than normal, but adequately hiding the bulk provided by the vest.

“You know what I mean. A situation like THIS. Where there’s a bounty on your damn head the size of Texas. Where it’s your own family that’s being threatened. This Mahajan isn’t playing any games. He’s got the best of the best working for him, and when shit goes down and he figures out you’re behind all of this, the shit’s really going to hit the fan.”

“You act like I don’t already know all of that. Who’s the one that’s new to all this? And who’s the one that’s been doing it for years?”

“You know, for someone that HAS been doing it for as long as you have, you sure are fucking stupid. Sure are making rookie decisions.”

“I work better alone,” Tyler says. “But you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know ‘job me’. You’ve never been around him. Guess you’re going to find out pretty quick exactly who I really am, aren’t you.”

“It ain’t who you are,” Koen argues. “It’s part of who you are. So fuck off with that shit. And I get you’ve been doing this a long time. I get it. I respect it. But I still think it’s a mistake that you’re going into this alone when you’re the one Mahajan wants dead. If you ask me…”

“I’m NOT asking you,” Tyler irritably interjects. “No one is asking you. Now get off my ass. This is how I do things. Alone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”

“I just think…”

“I love you, mate, and I get you’re worried about me, but fuck off. I don’t need a babysitter. No matter what my wife thinks.”

“She’s worried about your stubborn ass too. You wanna go home to her and your kids? ‘Cause you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“You want to still have all your teeth? ‘Cause you’re going to lose a few if you bring up my family again.”

“You call home this morning?”

Tyler frowns. “What did I just say?”

Koen holds his hands up in surrender. “Just asking if you called home.”

“I called last night. Said the things I needed to say. That I should have said a long time ago. Flight left at seven their time; won’t be hearing from them until after they land.”

“And everything’s good? With Esme and the littles?”

“As good as it can be, I guess.” He slips his arms into the sleeves of a baggy hoodie; black and bearing no company or brand logos. Something cheap and simple that won’t show blood and he won’t mind throwing out if he can’t get it clean. He’s not much of a talker before a mission; finding mindless conversations and the sound of other peoples’ voices both needless AND annoying. He prefers to be quiet in that last hour; getting himself into ‘the zone’. Throwing himself into the deep end of his own mind space and psyching himself up; mentally replaying his plans over and over again, each step helping fire up his adrenaline. 

“You should at least call and leave a message,” Koen says. “Or a text or something. You know, just in case.”

Tyler ignores him; attaching his holster -gun already secured inside- onto the waistband of his cargo pants. On his right hip, hoodie easily covering it and not leaving a noticeable outline or bulge. SAT phone in one side pocket, personal cell in the other; knife and its holder resting at the small of his back. He’d sharpened it the night before; deadly enough to slice through paper and guaranteeing if the wound is in the right spot, death will be near instantaneous. He would have preferred a slower and more calculated and cold method of killing, but with very limited minutes and space, he needs to be fast and efficient and worry about torture and watching them suffer when he has more time on his hands. That will come; a chance to truly make them pay. And he’s looking forward to it.

“Are you listening to me at all?” Koen inquires. “I said you should…”

“I heard what you said. And I already told you that I called home last night. I talked to Esme, I told her I love her and said all the things I should have said to her a long time ago. I don’t need to call and leave a message, I don’t need to text her. We talked. We said what we needed to say to each other and that’s it. Leave it alone. She’s my wife, not yours. Stop with this fucked up obsession with her.”

“Obsession with her?” Koen scowls. “What the hell you going on about? What…?”

“Look, it was cute at first. I was flattered you thought my wife was hot. I laughed about all the little comments you’d make about what she looks like and what her ass is like and how you don’t understand why she’s with me and how if she wanted a real man, she’d get with you. I was fine with it. The way you flirt with her, the way you look at her.”

“I’m joking around. Poking fun. Yeah, she’s a beautiful woman. And I do think you’re lucky as fuck that you landed someone like her. But no way in hell would she leave a guy like you for me. And as far as looking at her a certain way, what…?”

“Just stop with her. I could take it at first. At first it seemed harmless. But that’s my wife. The mother of my kids. And I don’t fucking like it. How close you’re always trying to get to her. So I’d appreciate it if you’d back off.”

“I think you’re losing it,” Koen laughs. “I think you’re going mental. No one is trying to steal your wife, mate. Especially not me. I’d never do that to you, you should know that. I’d never do you like that.”

“I’d just rather you not do the things you do. Not talk about her the way you do. It bugs the shit out of me. I’ve already had one person try and fuck things up between us. I won’t let anyone else try it.”

“I think you need your head read. Professional help of some kind. Because I have no idea where all that came from or what you’re so fucking insecure about. She ain’t ever gonna be with the likes of me when she’s got someone like you with your pretty blue eyes and your muscles out to next week. It’s obvious as fuck that she ain’t ever gonna leave you. That she loves your dumb, stupid ass for some reason. Must be just as mental as you.”

“You’re going to drive me mental is what you’re going to do,” Tyler retorts, then moves to the door when a pounding -likely from the toe of a shoe or a boot- threatens to shake it off its hinges. Snapping open the deadbolt and removing the chain lock after a quick check through the peephole determines there’s no threat waiting out in the hall. 

“How you feeling?” Yaz inquires, as he and Ovi step into the room. “You good? Got your head in the game?”

“My head’s exactly where it needs to be. Not like Koen’s, which is shoved up so far up my ass…”

“He’s in a mood,” Koen interjects. “Being a little bitch.”

“He doesn’t like to talk before he goes out,” Yaz explains. “Too much talk and chatter and noise fucks with his head space; keeps him out of the zone. We realized a long time ago not to say shit to him until it’s absolutely necessary. You’ll learn. We did.”

Ovi nods in agreement.

“Bring me what I need?” Tyler asks.

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” This…” Yaz reaches into the pocket of his black jeans, pulling a flat, silver disk no larger than a dime. “...is how we hear you. Just gotta tap your finger against it to activate it. It’s all charged and ready to go.” He slips a hand through the open zipper on Tyler’s hoodie, attaching the disk -via a small yet powerful magnet on the back[ to the neck of Tyler’s t-shirt. “...and this…” from his second pocket, he removes a listening device; small and kidney bean shaped, moulded out of clear silicone. “...is how you hear me. Just slip this right in your ear. Got it?”

Tyler nods, then plucks the device from Yaz’ palm and slips it into his left ear. A creature of habit; using the same routines and following the same rituals he’d discovered he was most comfortable with during his early days in the game. Each merc has their ‘thing’; lucky underwear or socks, certain meals they’ll consume before heading out, the same song they’ll listen to on repeat to fire themselves up. His ‘thing’ has always revolved around his gear. Putting pieces on in a certain order, cleaning all his weapons TWICE, not engaging in conversation in the last hour leading up. It’s all mind over matter, but it never fails to feel as if it’s giving him an edge. Even a sense of comfort and security.

“Ovi will drop you off at the shipping and receiving door,” Yaz says. “Our inside guy will be waiting. Knock twice so he knows it’s you. He’ll have a key to the freight elevator; take that to the twelfth floor, leave the key on the window ledge. I know you already know all of this, but it calms my nerves to go through it again.”

Tyler smirks. “You’re an odd duck, Yaz.”

“This coming from a guy who puts three shots of espresso in his coffee right before a gig.”

“Could be doing a lot worse. Remember that guy who used to short two lines of coke right before he went out?”

“Lorenzo. Fuck, I forgot about him. Whatever happened to him?”

“Got into a bar fight in Chicago and got fucked up. Last I heard he was running with some rogue crew that works out of New Mexico.”

“That guy was a whackadoo. Makes you look sane and that’s saying something. Now remember, you only have three minutes. That’s it. Wait by the freight elevator until I tell you that I’ve killed the security cameras. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“When you’re done, haul ass. Ovi will be waiting two blocks west. In front of a dry cleaners. You won’t be able to miss him.”

“You better fucking be there,” Tyler warns Ovi. “‘Cause if you leave me hanging, I’ll gut you like a fish next.”

Ovi’s eyes widen, and both Tyler and Yaz burst into laughter at his surprised -and terrified- expression.

“I’m kidding, kid. I’d never do that. I’d beat you ass, But I wouldn’t do THAT.”

“Good to go?” Yaz asks. “Got everything you need?”

Tyler scowls.

“Right...right...I know. I ask the same stupid shit before every job. Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I still think letting him go alone is fucked up,” Koen remarks, still sitting by the balcony door.

Yaz sighs. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Twenty minutes until go time and you’re bringing me this? Now is NOT the time for this. One and two. Gotta take ‘em out. That’s what he’s going to do. Enough of this shit?”

“What if something goes wrong?” Koen asks.

“Something’s going to go wrong in a second when I toss your ass off the balcony,” Tyler snarls. “What is your major malfunction? Do you know how many of these I’ve done? How many jobs I’ve been on? I can fucking take care of myself, mate. You’re only gonna get in the way if you tag along. Let me take care of my shit, you take care of yours.”

“I said I’d keep an eye on ya. This isn’t keeping an eye on ya. Letting you go off on your own.”

“We gotta go,” Yaz says, and yanks a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “Time’s a wastin. We’re going to miss these guys if you don’t leave now.”

“I’m fine,” Tyler assures his friend. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. I’ve been in way more dangerous situations than this and I always came out of them alive. I ain’t breaking that streak now.”

“You fuck up and something happens to you, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again. Hear me?”

“I hear ya,” Tyler says, and then gives a small, almost uncomfortable chuckle when Koen embraces him in front of the others. His tone and face both softening when he tousles what little hair his friend has left on his head. “I’ll be careful, mate. I got this. You and Rata be careful out there. These guys? Mahajan and his people? They don’t fuck around. Watch each other’s backs.”

“Who’s gonna watch yours?” Koen inquires, and Tyler gives him a quick, one armed hug before heading for the door.

“I watch my own.”

***

“Change of plans,” Tyler says, when Ovi pulls the rented SUV into the alley behind the Grand Hyatt.

The younger man’s eyes widen. “Change of plans? No change of plans! Why a change of plans?”

“Did you not fucking notice the police station half a block away from the dry cleaners? There’s no way your old man doesn’t have law enforcement in on this. Remember Asif? Dhaka? Look what he was able to do. And your old man has a lot more power than Asif ever had.”

“We can’t just go and change things,” Ovi protests. “We can’t…”

“I’m the boss. I can do whatever the hell I want. You park and wait for me there, they’ll see me coming. And you can’t tell me that spineless fuck doesn’t have my picture plastered all over the goddamn place. Go two blocks EAST. Not west. Then text me and let me know where you are.”

“This is a bad idea,” Ovi laments. “We should just stick to the plan. We should…”

Scowling, Tyler angrily snatches him by the front of the shirt. “Fucking listen to me! I call the shots and I am telling you to go east. Not west. Just do as I fucking say and then wait for me. Understand?”

Ovi swallows noisily and nods frantically.

“I go anywhere near that police station, I’m fucked. I’ve got a knife and a Glock on me. I don’t stand a goddamn chance if they all start shooting. So do what I say and I at least live long enough to call my kids tonight and read them a bedtime story. Now fucking listen to me and don’t get me killed!”

He doesn’t give Ovi a chance to respond, instead throwing open the passenger door and climbing out; hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, head down as he heads for the loading docks and the shipping and receiving doors. It’s better to be safe than sorry; not taking the chance that there’s any outside cameras that can capture a decent picture of him entering the building. His strides are long and purposeful, yet calm and confident; stones, dirt, and other debris crunching and shifting under the soles of his combat boots. 

It’s just as easy as Yaz said it would be; knocks being promptly answered, no eye contact made or words exchanged as a single gold plated key is pressed into the palm of his hand as he passes by. And he’s not sure if it’s plain lucky or the ‘inside man’ had arranged to keep other employees out of the area, but it’s oddly quiet and he doesn’t encounter another living soul during his short walk through the bowels of the hotel and to the service elevator. 

He’s been on the job long enough that nerves are no longer an issue. Learning long ago that the more relaxed you are and the more you’re able to ‘silence’ your brain, the smoother and easier things will go. Focusing on something other than the task at hand keeps you from dwelling on your game plan, which in turn prevents you from second guessing yourself and switching things up at the last second. That only leads to disaster. He’s seen many a good merc seriously injured and even killed because they thought too much; letting the game fuck to much with their heads and getting an advantage on them instead of the other way around. So instead of thinking of the task mere minutes away, he lets his mind go blank; eyes riveted on the illuminated numbers above the elevator door as it makes it slow, rumbling ascent. Hands still shoved in his pockets as he slowly rocks back and forth on his heels. It’s a habit that ‘new Tyler’ has fallen into an ‘old Tyler’ can’t seem to break; that slight motion of his body that’s comforted many a crying or colicky baby and has gotten them to sleep when all other methods seemed futile. And it works for his nerves as well; taking off the edge yet never stripping away the one emotion he does allow himself to feel. Rage.

“You in?” Yaz’ voice pipes in through the ear piece, and Tyler reaches into his hoodie to tap a finger against the disk attached to the front of his shirt.

“I’m in. On the ninth floor now.”

“Twelfth is clear. You’ll see a cleaning person; that’s one of ours. Got one on each floor preventing other people from leaving their rooms. Let me know when you get off the service elevator and I’ll kill the security cameras. Remember, you’ve only got three minutes.”

“What if they don’t get on the elevator?”

“Do what you have to do. Rooms 903 and 905. Take them out whatever way you have to. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

The elevator comes to a shuddering, rumbling stop; doors shuddering as they slowly slide open. He leaves the lone key on the window sill as instructed, then mumbles a low, drawn out “Fuck” and quickly turns on his heel to face outside when he hears voices -female- approaching from around the corner. He can see their reflections in the glass; young, nearly twenties, their glossy dark hair pulled back into ponytails and their tall, willowy bodies clad in the burgundy and gold uniforms sported by all hotel staff. And they never pause in their loud, animated conversation or even glance in his direction as they wait for the elevator. Seconds seem like minutes; his annoyance growing with each passing moment, an audible sigh of relief leaving his lips when the elevator finally arrives and the women step aboard, doors slowly sliding closed.

“Do your thing,” he says. “I’m good to go.”

“I’m on it,” Yaz responds. “Cameras going down in five...four...three...two...one. You’ve got three minutes. Go.”

Tyler swiftly turns on his heel; feet going from gleaming tile to plush carpet. And he exchanges a quick nod with Yaz’ ‘man’; one hand still shoved in the pocket of his sweater as the other reaches out to hit the button to call the elevator. 

“One and two are leaving their rooms now,” Yaz says. “Elevator is two floors above you. No one on it. You’re in the clear.”

“They armed?” 

“Can’t tell. Let’s just go ahead and assume they are. Stay on your toes.”

“You doubting my knowledge of this shit, Yaz? You telling me how to do things?”

“I’m nervous. Fuck off, Rake.” It’s always last name only when Yaz gets riled up; his nerves and stress are always on high alert, even when he’s not the one actually out there doing the dirty work. “Two minutes and thirty seconds,” he says, when the elevator finally arrives and Tyler steps on. “Think you can handle this, old man?”

Smirking, Tyler directs a middle finger at the camera he knows is mounted just above the control panels. And he settles himself as that rear of the lift, casually leaning back against the mirrored wall, both hands out of his pockets and arms now crossed over his chest. 

“I’d say good luck but I know you won’t need it,” Yaz says. “We’re going silent for the rest of the trip. Talk in a few. Have fun.”

He gives a nod and a tight lipped smile. The adrenaline is at its peak now. Even after all these years it’s a rush; the possibility of the situation turning dangerous, the quick and efficient pace he’ll have to work at. But it’s not the adrenaline that has his heart thundering in his chest or the rush of blood thundering in his ears or his jaw clenching. It’s rage. The knowledge that he’s about to come face to face with pure and utter evil. People that would have done horrible and vile things to his family. His CHILDREN. It’s the desire...the want...the NEED...to take another life.

He recognizes them when they step onto the elevator; faces familiar from the pictures he’s been studying since Anil gave him ‘the list’. And neither pause in their conversation -a mixture of both Hindi and English- but both give him polite smiles and nods, one even offering a friendly “good morning” that he’s hesitant to return but bites the bullet and does anyway. And he briefly looks over his shoulder; quickly studying himself to make sure the rage isn’t as visibly obvious as it feels. Both men have their backs to him; shoulders pressed together, their words and their laughter hanging heavily in the air. And while his eyes study them from head to toe and attempt to ascertain any possible threat or if they are armed, his right hand reaches under his hoodie, thumb sliding through the loop that sits on the top of the knife; fingers curling around the hilt.

“Excuse me for a second, would ya mate?” He asks, then using his own shoulder to push his way between them, successfully creating a gap; fingers reaching for one of the floor numbers before he slams his palm against the stop button. 

The elevator gives a sudden, violent lurch and Tyler uses it to his advantage. Throwing his entire body weight into the man on the right, the collision sending both of them into the side wall.. And Tyler slams his elbow into the sternum with enough force to break it; the audible crack and the man’s startled and pained yelp echoing in the small, cramped area. A noise that only becomes shrill and terrified when he effortlessly jams the tip of the knife into the already injured man’s navel, and with a ruthless and vicious upwards yank -one fluid, easy motion- he sends the sharp, glistening blade up to the hollow of the man’s throat. His first victim drops into a heap on the floor; still gurgling and flailing helplessly as he clings to the last shred of life as his own blood and some of his internal organs begin to pool around him.

The fist that’s thrown his way is easy to avoid; his instincts and reflexes are quick and uncompromising. And he’s able to hook an arm around the other man’s bicep and throw him to his stomach; forehead and chest slamming off the blood soaked floor. And he’s attempting to scramble to his feet when Tyler places a knee in the middle of his back; every pound and inch of his much broader, taller, strong frame shoved into every shred of pressure he applies.

“Look at me,” Tyler orders, and when the man below him refuses, snatches a fistful of hair and yanks his head back. “I said fucking look at me!”

The eyes that look up at him are terrified, yet still bear a remaining glitter of deviance.

“You recognize me now don’t you,” Tyler snarls. “Well this is what you get for fucking with my family.” 

He slams the knife home just under the left ear. And he can hear the tear of skin, muscle and tissue and the crack of cartilage as the tip pierces straight through. Pausing briefly; allowing the full reality set into the other man’s brain before he quickly draws the knife across his throat. Jamming it in far enough to hit bone when he reaches the other ear; hand still tightly gripping silky, thick hair, gaze never wavering and his rage never subsiding as he watches all life and hope drain from the other man’s face and eyes. 

There’s a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he stands; hands steady as he swipes the blade of the knife across one of his thighs, cleaning the blood off of it before slipping it back under his hoodie and into its holder. He’s barely broken a sweat, and he’s eerily calm as he steps through the growing puddle of blood and over the lifeless carcasses; releasing the stop button and then pressing the one for the next available floor.

Tyler checks his watch. There's still a minute and a half remaining.

It feels good to be back.

****

“A minute and a half,” Yaz says in way of greeting, when Tyler strolls into the conference room twenty minutes later; already shrugging out of his blood and sweat soaked hoodie. “Not too bad for an old fuck! Didn’t misplace a hip, did you old timer?”

“Hope I don’t misplace my foot when I put it up your ass,” he playfully retorts, unable to contain the grin that spreads across his face. 

It’s one of immense satisfaction. Pride, even. Feeling relief that he hasn’t lost his edge or any of his abilities and he’s only become stronger and faster. Smarter. His skills and his instincts seem sharper than before. And it feels good; the physical act of killing. It’s the first time he’s ever encountered that; enjoying taking a life and watching someone in the thralls of death. But it’s personal this time around. Mahajan never should have threatened him or his wife and his children. Because now he’s going to enjoy every second of sending that message loud and clear: you’ve fucked with the wrong man’s family. 

“I will never...EVER...again doubt you, oh wise one,” Yaz chuckles, and then dramatically bows to him. “Made a fuck of a mess of the elevator though. Couldn’t have been more graceful about things?”

“Messier it is, the bigger and louder the message it sends. And thanks, by the way. You almost dumped my ass right by a police station.”

“Yeah, Ovi called me. Told me about the change in plans. Sorry about that, Ooops.”

“Oops? I could have gotten my ass shot on the first day and that’s all you can say? Ooops? How the fuck did you miss that, anyway? You’re usually on the ball when it comes to this recon shit. What the fuck, mate?”

“You know, sometimes I DO screw up.”

“Well don’t screw up when it’s my ass on the line, yeah?” Tyler removes both the earpiece and the transmitter and drops them onto the conference table. “Those little things are a hell of a lot better than those wired pieces of shit we used to have. I’m not fucking choking myself trying to use an ear piece attached to a fucking radio. How’s things? Anyone else check in?”

“Koen and Rata are chasing their guys down. They've given them the slip twice already.”

Tyler smirks, then slips the t-shirt over his head and drops it and the hoodie into a nearby chair. “Rookies.”

“Anil and Nathan are doing some surveillance on the other side of town. Gonna be pissed and jealous as shit when I tell them you’re already done and back. Other than that, there’s not much to tell you.”

He tears the velcro strips open on the one side of the vest; left shoulder and rib cage finally free. Grunting and grimacing at the pain in his right arm when he slips the vest over his head. Then peels off the sweaty tank and uses it to wipe sweat and blood from his face, brow, and neck. Unable to contain the smirk that plays on his lips when he catches sight of the young female tech across the room intently watching him.

“Hey!” Yaz snaps at her. “Focus! That ain’t your prize you’re looking at. He’s married!”

Tyler chuckles, then reaches for a bottle of water from the case sitting in the middle of the table. “Kinda harsh, mate. She’s harmless. She can look.”

“What is it with you and all the thirsty women? They don’t even care about that ring on your finger.”

“I care about it and that’s all that matters. They can be as thirsty as they want. I’m not entertaining it, so…”

“Still disrespectful as fuck. To you, your wife. I mean, you’re married. You’ve got kids, for fuck sake. Means they should back the fuck off. And speaking of married, you hear from Esme?”

“She left me a message before they left. Said she’d call as soon as they got in. It’s a long flight; they won’t be here until at least six.” He both groans and grimaces when he drops into one of the chairs, and then reaches down to untie his boots and toe them off. “I did make a fucking mess, didn’t I,” he observes, as he picks up one boot, then the other, surveying the splatters of blood on the fabric and the already drying mess on each sole. 

“Felt good though, didn’t it. To get shit done. To kill the fuckers that we’re going to kill your family. Bet it felt damn good.”

“Even better than I thought it would,” he admits.

“You going to the airport?” Yaz asks.

“Didn’t know it was an option. Thought I was supposed to to stay away. Until I was given the all clear.”

“That’s for when they’re at the house. What harm could come from you showing up at the airport? No one even knows you’re in Mumbai yet. We’d hear chatter if Mahajan was suspicious. If you wanna go…”

“I don’t wanna fuck things up. If someone IS following me…”

“You’d know that by now. Fuck, you’d probably be DEAD right now. And we’ve got eyes and ears on you. I can send a couple of people to tail you, just in case. You’ve got nothing else going on for the rest of that day. You’ve earned your keep. And then some.”

“I could go out and help Rata and Koen chase their guys down. Or do my own surveillance. Take Ovi with me. Teach him something that won’t lead to me getting shot in the head.”

“It’s the first day,” Yaz says. “Relax. You’ve done enough. Take the down time while you can.”

“I could use a shower and a change of clothes. Something to eat. Maybe some sleep.”

“Go to the airport,” Yaz insists. “I’ll have people follow you. I know it’s killing you; being away from your family. It’ll do you a world of good to see them. Even if it is just for a few minutes.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “It would. Wouldn’t mind hugging and kissing my wife and seeing my kids.”

“Your job’s done for the day. Shit is only going to get harder and more intense from here on out. Who knows when you’ll get to see them next. Go clean yourself up. Get some food in you. Some sleep. And then go and see your family. You’re one of the lucky ones, man. You’ve GOT a family that you can see. Don’t take that for granted.”

“That’s something I DEFINITELY have to stop doing.”

“I know they’re probably dying to see you too. Can’t tell me those kids don’t miss their daddy. They’re pretty nuts about ya.”

He grins. “Yeah, I’m pretty nuts about them too. You sure you guys will be okay without me?”

“We’ll manage. If I need you THAT bad, I know how to get a hold of you. Seriously, go and see your family, Tyler. I know you want to. I know you NEED to.”

He nods in agreement, then sighs heavily as he stands up; hand on the small of his back, wince on his face.

“Maybe you did throw out your hip,” Yaz chides.

“It’s my back, you fucking drongo. You know it’s been shit since I had to go and save Gaspar’s sorry ass.”

“You took a bullet an inch from your fucking spine,” Yaz reminds him. “You’re lucky to even be walking. Want me to get you a cane? A wheelchair? Want me to carry you? Need me to help fill out the papers for your old age security?”

“I’m hurting, but I can still beat your ass into the middle of the next week.”

“Judging by the show you put on the elevator, I know that’s fact. That was amazing by the way. Good job. Damn good job.”

“Only gets better from here, yeah? Each one will get a little nastier and bloodier.”

“You sound like you’re actually going to enjoy that,” Yaz observes.

He’s smirking as he picks up his dirty clothes and boots, then heads for the door. “I am.”


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: PROFANITY
> 
> Huge thanks and tons of love to @melmac for the never ending support and pep talks and brain storming sessions! And amazing friendship! <3 <3 <3

A hot shower and a three hour nap -aided by a mixture of antidepressants, anxiety meds, and pain killers washed down by three shots of tequila- has done Tyler a world of good. Waking up feeling energized; still riding the high of the morning’s adrenaline rush and relatively pain free. Nothing more than a dull throb in the deepest part of the shoulder; some discomfort and audible cracking and popping when he stretches and manipulates it. But it’s bearable, unlike the agony that’s been a near constant fixture in his life for the past couple of years. While the initial replacement surgery and rehab had both been complete successes, a full recovery had eluded him. It had been his own fault, of course; the surgeon’s orders had been to alter his lifestyle and to avoid the very ‘activity’ that had caused so much damage in the first place. That ‘advice’ had lasted all of four months, until Nik had called, desperately needing his help and he’d been unable to resist both the lure of the game and the promise of damn good money. 

He’d attempted to walk away several times in as many years, fully intending to commit himself to being a family man with his own little side business. Content with the motions of being the one to stay home with the kids while his wife either went back to school or found a new career she’d be happy with. But sometimes the best laid plans don’t work out. Not long after an early term miscarriage when the twins were two and a half, she’d gotten pregnant with Declan DESPITE being on birth control and coming to a mutual decision to wait until both Millie and the twins were in school full time before once again trying to add to their family. It had been completely unexpected, and off of their previous plans regarding their home life quickly went by the wayside. The job was easy money; he was confident in his skills and his abilities and Nik had promised to offer only the easiest of gigs.

That changed quickly. What should have been an ‘in and out’ assassination of a key political figure in El Salvador turning into a four day shit show that had him falling into dangerous enemy territory and almost needing to be extracted himself. After that, he’d said ‘fuck it’ and began taking whatever Nik brought to the table. And his physical health began to pay the price.

He orders a meal from room service and cracks open the bottle of whisky in the mini bar. He’s stuck to his word; staying sober while actually ON the job and not ever indulging during his downtime. Unlike the old days, he’s able to both pace himself AND stop after just a couple. A far cry from the guy who’d polish off an entire bottle and would be either too hung over to get up with his kids in the morning, or already passed out in the early evening; missing school events and extra curricular activities that he’d promised he’d attend. He refuses to be that guy again; the one who’d almost single handedly ruined his marriage because he put the bottle and the pain meds at the top of his priority list; allowing his addictions to take precedence over his family. The one who’d rightfully had his ass kicked out and then spent the next six months in a drunken stupor. 

Never again. Never again will he be ‘that guy’. The absolute failure as a husband and a father. He can control it now; no longer needing to silence the inner demons or lessen the emotional suffering by getting. The want not nearly as powerful. Before it had been a way of life; no day complete without at least the smallest buzz. Now it’s a matter of convenience. Even enjoyment. A feeling of satisfaction and relief when the whisky finally hits the tongue and he experiences the initial burn in the back of his throat. After that, one drink doesn’t make him crave more. Instead satisfying his palate with bottle water and Gatorade and terrible coffee made in the hotel provided maker.

He’s lounging in the middle of the bed in a pair of boxer briefs when Koen finally returns. Back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out; laptop resting on his thighs and a plate of food in his hands. And he only gives a brief glance towards the door when Koen stomps in and allows it to slam shut behind him. Offering no greeting, calmly and casually eating from the enormous serving of goat curry and naan bread, eyes never leaving the video playing on the computer; his three oldest on the plane, reading HIM a story and every so often having mispronounced words gently and lovingly corrected by their mother. And the grin that plays on his lips is double fold; pride and love for those beautiful and intelligent little human beings he’d had a hand in creating, and amusement at Koen’s mutters and complaints and strings of profanity.

“Look at you,” his friend grumbles. “All fucking relaxed and shit. Cocky, shit eating grin on your face.”

Tyler’s attention never leaves the laptop. A different video this time; Addie giving a real, genuine smile when she has her chin tickled. That one brings the prick of tears to his eyes. She’s still so tiny and so fragile, but she is...in fact...growing up.  


“Why do you swear all the time?” He finally asks. “Makes you sound stupid. Find another fucking adjective.”

Koen smirks. “Well aren’t you just the clever one. Leave it to your brain damaged ass to remember THAT.”

“It’s my short term memory that’s fucked. Although I do remember threatening to throw your ass off the balcony. Keep calling me stupid or brain damaged, and it’ll happen.”

“Don’t be so goddamn sensitive. What’cha watching?”

“Just some videos Esme sent me. Of the kids. I’ve got two five year olds and a six year old that can read better than I can. How’d the fuck that ever happen?”

“Well their momma’s pretty damn smart. Maybe just be thankful their brains at least took after her.”

Tyler frowns, then flips Koen the middle finger. “I meant that they’re practically babies still and they can read like they’re a lot older. They’re so smart. So fucking smart.”

“Definitely gonna be trouble makers when they’re older. Imagine them as teenagers? Especially Millie? With that mouth of hers?”

“That mouth of hers is going to keep trouble AWAY from her. She says what she wants; fuck anyone’s feelings. Someone gets mouthy with her when she’s older, she’ll put them in their place. And if her own mouth doesn’t do it, her right hook will. She's a savage that kid.”

“Best of both mom and dad if you ask me. And look at you just kicking back. Acting like you didn’t just butcher two people this morning.”

Tyler shrugs. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for them?”

“Just thought maybe you’d be a little more...I don’t know...grumpy.”

“Why would I? They got what was coming to them. And they deserved a lot worse. You think that was brutal? Wait until I have more time and more space.”

“You’re starting to scare me a bit, mate. You’re enjoying this a little too much, I reckon.”

“Well if it was your family being threatened, you’d enjoy it too. You know what kind of things they would have done to my wife and kids? What I did is tame compared to what they had planned. I’ve heard the threats; you haven’t. It’s nightmare inducing shit. Let’s leave it at that.”

“That why you been freaking out in your sleep? Waking up barely able to breathe and shit? Scared the crap out of me the first couple of times.”

“It’s fucking with my head a bit,” Tyler admits. “Kind of hard not to let it mess with you. Trust me when I say that what I read? What was said about Esme? About the kids? I don’t wish any of it on my worst enemy.” It makes bile rise in his throat just thinking about it and he places the laptop on the bed and reaches for the bottle of Gatorade sitting on the nightstand. Downing half in order to rid himself of the bitterness and the burn. “Heard you guys had a bit of trouble.”

Koen scowls, pausing in the middle of taking off his gear. “Don’t get all cocky again, young man.”

“Not getting cocky. Just repeating what I heard. Didn’t you guys leave the same time I did?”

“Your point?”

“No point.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Just making an observation. I mean, I was alone and had to take out two people. By myself. Took me twenty minutes. And that includes me getting there AND back. You know all the shit I’ve done since then?”

“Nope. But I bet you’re gonna tell me, aren’t ya.”

“Took a shower, ate, slept for three hours. Now I’m eating again. And you’re getting back. Just now. It’s almost six. In the evening.”

“You’ve kept yourself busy. You jerk off sometime in there too?”

“Twice, actually.”

“Your lazy ass could have handled some more work. Instead you’ve been here slacking.”

“I’d done my bit for the day. Next time be faster.”

“Easy for you to say,” Koen scoffs. “Mister ‘I have all the experience’. You now, we could have used your help out there.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that. Can you repeat it?”

“Don’t be a little prick."

“I swear you just said that you could have used MY help. I swear you just said that.”

“You’re asking for an ass kicking, you know that?”

“Funny how you wanted my help when this morning you were acting I like I didn’t know what the fuck In was doing. It’s almost like...I don’t know...like you’re actually admitting you were wrong.”

“I ain’t admitting shit. Just saying we could have used your help.”

“Why? Apparently I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I am five seconds away from punching you in the face,” Koen growls. “And your wife won’t be too happy if I mess that face up. So…”

“Just swallow your pride and admit you’re wrong, mate. That you shouldn’t have underestimated me. Get it off your chest. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Make you feel better, you mean. I’d rather stroke your cock than your ego.”

“Well you’re definitely never getting anywhere near my cock so it’s my ego or nothing.”

“Fine,” Koen sighs heavily. “I underestimated you. I will never again second guess your skills or your abilities. But I still think you’re a brain damaged fuck.”

“I’ll take it,” Tyler says, then sits the now empty plate and Gatorade bottle on the nightstand and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “How did it go in the end?” he asks, groaning and grimacing as he stands. Forty starting to feel like it’s closer to death, never mind middle age.

“They’re dead. So it ended on a good note. Put up a hell of a fight. Rata took an elbow to the face and went crazy. Beat the guy to death. You would have been impressed. I think he’s a natural.”

“And you?”

“I prefer the simple things in life. Pull a trigger and it’s done. I’ll leave the more hands on, gruesome shit for you two. Gotta date or something?”

“Going to the airport.” He slips into a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. “Going to see my wife and kids.”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

Tyler sighs in exasperation. “Don’t fucking start this shit again.”

“Just if anyone is following you and you lead them right to your family…”

“Anil gave me the okay. Said he’s got tons of guys keeping their eyes on things. Yaz is sending a couple of people with me. So fuck off with this overprotective bullshit.”

“Now you know how your wife feels.”

“I have a reason to worry about her. A LOT of reasons. Damn good ones too. If you’re going to ride my ass so hard, at least pull my fucking hair.”

Koen smirks. “You’re into that kinda shit, aren’t ya. I knew it. Always knew you were a freak.”

“As much as I’d like to stay here and discuss my sex life with you, I’ve got better things to do.” He attaches his holster to his right hip, gathers up his wallet and hotel key card and both phones.

“You better not come back here with that ‘’just got fucked’ grin on your face,” Koen warns. “Because I will beat your ass.”

“You’ll be too busy beating something else.” Tyler retorts, right hand mimicking jerking off. Chuckling when Koen throws a shoe at him when he steps out the door.

****

It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the airport and he already knows everything there is to know about the young tech that Yaz has recruited to ‘escort’ him. It’s annoying enough not to be able to something as simple as driving, but to have to stuck with someone that is overly chatty and friendly is nothing short of torture. He’s never been a social creature; unlike his wife who makes friends easily and never shies away from making conversation with just about anyone, including strangers in the grocery store or out on the street. She’d been the first...and only...chatty person that hasn’t gotten on his nerves.

Her name is Riya and she’s twenty one; last of eight kids, her mother and father both extremely successful and wealthy business people in Dubai. The so-called ‘black sheep’ of the family; all but disowned when she’d decided to attend an American university -Georgetown- and make her home there. Even if he HAD have been talker, he wouldn’t have had the chance to offer up much commentary; her mouth running a mile a minute as she nervously and awkwardly spills even the smallest details of her life. 

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her to stop her. The old Tyler...the one that existed only six short years ago...would have already snapped and told her to shut the fuck up. But who he is now...the man he is...is different in so many ways. Far more patient. Considerate. Empathetic, even. And the father of a little girl that is the very definition of a chatterbox. Who’s bright eyed and bubbly and talkative from the time she opens her eyes in the morning until the moment she closes them at night. And he wouldn’t want some asshole speaking to his own daughter like that, so why would he?

“How long HAVE you been married for?” Riya asks, and he can hear Esme’s voice in his head; reminding him that not everyone is out to get him. That their curiosity is often just that. They’re genuinely interested in him and want to be his friend.

“Six and a half years.” Sometimes it doesn’t feel nearly that long. Other times, considering all of the bad shit they’ve been through and the time they didn’t think they’d make it. It seems a hell of a lot longer.

“And five kids, right? In only six and a half years?”

“We’ve really been together for seven. Well, almost seven. But yeah. Five kids.”

“They must be really close together.”

“First three are. My daughter is six, the boys are five.”

“Twins? Identical or…?”

“Fraternal. Millie...my daughter...was only two months when we found out they were on their way. They were kind of a surprise, needless to say. We have another boy after them; he’ll be two in a few months. And we have a baby girl. Almost eight weeks.”

“Just a little one.”

Tyler nods. “Very little. Very tiny. My wife is, too, Small. But feisty as hell. And tough. Toughest and strongest person I know.”

“Yaz said you met on the job.”

“Yeah, we got sent out on the same gig, To Bangladesh. Actually had to pretend we were married.”

Riya laughs. “Really?”

“First time I ever got mixed up in something like THAT. It’s a long story, but in the end, my fake wife ended up becoming my real wife.” He doesn’t feel the need to fill in the gaps between beginning and end; Dhaka and what happened there has never been kept off the radar. Word travels fast in the dame, and every single details has been made available; everything from Mahajan fucking him over to Gaspar’s betrayal to his near death experience.

“Probably the best ending to a job you’ve ever had,” Riya comments.

“Took me nearly dying and her sticking her fingers in my neck to keep me alive, but yeah, in the end things turned out pretty damn good. What about you? You got a family? Other than the ones that don’t speak to you?”

“Nope. It’s just me. It’s hard finding someone that understands this kind of life. Who won’t judge you for it. And the people you meet through this life aren’t exactly the settling down types. As much as I want to believe I’ll meet someone, I probably should just prepare myself to be alone for the long haul.”

“There’s gotta be someone out there. Either in the game or someone who won’t be bothered by it.”

Fuck. He’s starting to sound like his wife. Years spent listening to her reason with her little sister over the phone that there has to be a guy -or girl- out there that would be into her; a full time student with five cats and a host of mental health issues and an extremely toxic family. Or hearing her talk Ovi through his personal issues; always chasing the wrong girl and left brokenhearted in the end. Normally he just stays out if; offering shrugs of the shoulders or a simple nod or a head shake when Esme attempts to get him involved.

“Maybe there is,” Riya sighs. “Do you have any single friends?”

“My single friends are single for a reason. And I’m a lot older than you and they would be too. So…”

“What about Ovi? He’s your friend. He’s young. Is he single?”

“He’s actually more my son than my friend”

“Son?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “How…?”

“Another long story. We ended up taking in him, giving him a proper home, a family. But yeah. He’s single.”

“Do you think maybe you could…?”

Tyler laughs. “Yeah...no. Just no. I’m not trying to be a dick about it, but I don’t get involved with this kind of thing. That, and I’ve got some pretty serious shit I’m dealing with and it’s definitely NOT the time even if I WAS the kind that would help. I mean, my wife likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. You could always ask her to talk to him or whatever. I’m not who you want. Trust me.”

“Do you think she would? Put in a good word for me?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Look, I’m not the sociable type. So I don’t mean to come across as an asshole, but…”

“You’re honest,” she says. “I heard that about you. That you don’t say much, but you mean what you say and don’t pull any punches.”

“I can be a little harsh,” Tyler admits. “So I’ve been told, anyway. I’ve bet you heard a lot of things about me.”

She nods.

“Probably not a lot of good things.”

“More good than bad. But the bad is pretty...well...bad. I don’t know; you don’t seem that awful to me. I mean, how awful can someone be when they have a wife and five kids? No woman would stick around long enough to have one kid, never mind that many.”

“Never thought of it that way. I’m not an easy person to live with. I’ve put her through a lot. But maybe I’m not as terrible as I think I am.”

“I don’t think she’d still be around if you were. If she’s as tough and strong as you say she is, she would have hauled ass a long time ago.”

****

He’s still thinking of those words when they arrive at the airport; pulling right onto the tarmac behind the smaller hangar he’d flowed into only two days before. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. Since he’s stood in front of his home, kissing and hugging his wife and kids goodbye and wondering if he’d ever see them again. With how successful the morning had been, he wants to be more confident in regards to the eventual outcome. But he knows how things work; each kill will get harder and messier and more complicated. Mahajan will clue into his involvement and up the stakes even more. One good day doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Not in the slightest.

Riya waits in the car, but both drivers and passengers of the three vehicles that had followed them climb out. Staggering themselves along the tarmac, eyes surveying the surroundings; bullet proof vests under their clothing, weapons at the ready. The jet’s already arrived and the stairs being placed in front of the open door when he crosses the distances between it and the car; less than ten feet away when the first little body appears. Millie with her ever present messy hair and those Spiderman sandals; an Incredible Hulk t-shirt paired with a frilly -and glittery- pink and purple tutu over a pair of camo leggings. Her head down at first and a slight frown on her face; shrugging a unicorn and sloth themed backpack onto her shoulders and one foot tentatively checking the strength and support of the stairs in front of her. And when she finally does glance up, the look is one of shock at first. Her brow furrowed and those huge blue eyes wide and disbelieving. Then quickly widening and sparkling when realization sets in; a brilliant smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and immediately forgets about her discomfort on the stairs, rushing down them and leaping from the second last one; not even stumbling or missing a single stride. “Daddy!”

Tyler catches her as she throws herself at him, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms. Feeling those little arms immediately circle his neck, squeezing as tight as they can and how soft her cheeks and her forehead are against his lips and how impossibly light she seems.

“You said we wouldn’t see you for a few days!” Her tone has a slight scolding quality to it.

“I thought I’d surprise you guys. I got things finished nice and early so I could come and say hi. I missed you,” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her temple and then her brow. “I missed you so much.”

“I miss you too. This is the best surprise EVER.”

“Even better than getting Saju as a late birthday gift?”

"I love Saju, but I love you more. You’re my daddy. And I was worried about you. About the bad guys getting a hold of you.”

“The bad guys don’t stand against me. You know that.”

“Daddy!” TJ hollers, and soon both he and his brother -and two dogs- are racing towards him. And with Millie still on his hip, he drops down to one knee, laughing when the force of those of those small bodies - and all of the power and excitement and love inside of them- knock him off balance and he finds himself on his ass on the damp, cold tarmac. Gathering all three kids into his arms and pulling them tightly into him.

“I knew you could do it,” Tanner’s face is buried in the side of his neck, tears hot against his skin. “I knew you could beat up the bad guys and still come and see us! I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I’ve only been gone two days, mate.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s only two hours. I still missed you.”

“I missed you too. I missed ALL of you.” 

He presses his lips to each forehead, returns each tight, fierce hug. Still sitting on the ground as he listens to all three speak at once’ excited tales about what they’d done on the plane and the movies they’d watched and the naps they’d taken and the food they’d eaten, Millie showing off her matching bracelet. And she moves out of the way when Delcan arrives; a beaming smile on his face and a ‘miss daddy’ in his tiny voice before throwing his arms around Tyler’s neck. And he runs his fingers through his son’s silky red hair and showers his cheeks with kisses and holds him as tight as Declan will let him. And even now he’s not sure he deserves all of this. The adoration and the unconditional love and their blind faith and trust in him.

“Good to see ya,” Kyle says in greeting, placing Addie -in her carseat carrier- on the ground beside him, then offering a hand to help Tyler to his feet and giving him a one armed hug. “Especially in one piece. Heard today was the day. Must have went okay. You’re standing here.”

“Went better than I thought it would. I’ll take a good start over a bad one any day.” He drops to a knee once more, smiling at his baby girl as he unfastens the straps of the carrier. “Hey sweet pea...hey little peanut…” he scoops that tiny body into his arms, settling her against his chest; a forearm under her bum, hand on the back of her head. “Daddy missed you. He missed you so much.”

“What are you even doing here?” Esme inquires as she joins them, a playful scolding tone to her voice and a look of pure relief on her face.

He grins down at her. “I guess crossing your fingers worked.”

“I guess it did,” she says, and he’s able to keep Addie pressed securely against him with one arm as he wraps the other around his wife; pulling her tightly into him, lips meeting her temple. “I know it’s only been two days,” her voice is muffled against his chest, both arms around his waist. “But I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. It’s felt longer than two days.”

She nods, pulling away slightly to look up at him, tears sparking in her eyes. “I was so worried about you. Everything went okay?”

“Better than I thought it would. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it. Fill you in on all the gory details.”

“Yes, because I just love your stories of mutilation and homicide. You’re okay?” Her hands rub at his sides. “You look okay.”

“I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”

“Guess you haven’t lost your touch after all. And to think you were worried about that.” Her face turns serious, the amount of tears in her eyes increasing. “I was so fucking worried about you, Tyler.”

“I know you were.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. Everything’s fine.”

“I’m just relieved. That I didn’t just have to take your for it and I got to see it...you...with my own eyes. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“Did you get the videos? Did you watch them?”

“I did. And I’m slightly concerned that my six year and five year olds are already smarter than I am.”

“I don’t think they’re anywhere near being that smart yet, but they are crazy intelligent. Almost scary HOW intelligent. We are going to have our work cut out for us, I think. Having three brainiacs in the house?”

“Four if you count their mom. Where do you think they get it from? My looks, your brain. We’ve been through this.”

“Is that some sneaky, backhanded way of calling me ugly?” she teases.

“Baby, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that. And I love you,” he places a soft kiss to her lips. “So much.”

“I love you too. And did you see Addie? Her smile? Her REAL smile? She smiles exactly like you. Her eyes crinkle and everything. So there. She DID get something from you, after all. Are you okay?” She reaches up and lays a hand on the side of her face, running her thumb over his lips. “With what happened? You’re alright?”

“I’m okay. I just missed you guys. It’s been harder than I thought it would.”

“It’s been six months. You had a whole different life for half a year. I’d be worried if going back to this WASN’T hard.”

“It’s not just that. It’s...I don’t know….” Tyler shrugs. “I can’t talk about it right now. Not with the kids around.”

“Is it about what you did?”

He nods. “About what I did. How I felt about it. How I DIDN’T feel. We’ll talk later. I can’t stay long; just in case someone is keeping an eye on me. You guys will be safer at the house than you will be standing out here talking to me.”

“Thank you. For making the effort to get here. The kids needed that; to see you. I needed that. I really needed to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I needed to see you, too. I was worried I’d never get the chance again. And I wish I could stay longer. Or go to the house with you guys. I’d give anything to be able to do that. Anything.”

She gives a small, understanding smile. “I know you would.”

“I gotta go.” He holds Addie out in front of him, kissing her forehead. “I love you, little peanut. Stop growing up so fast. You might be the last one.”

“We’ll talk about that later too,” Esme says, and he leans down to press a kiss to her temple before placing Addie in her arms. “I love you. We’ll see you in a few days, right?”

“Yep.” He attempts a reassuring smile, then kisses her; long and soft and sweet. “I love you. Call me when the kids are asleep. We’ll talk about stuff.”

“Okay,” she agrees, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in her chest once more when he gives her one last hug. Holding onto him longer and tighter than before. Unable to control the tears that trickle down her face. 

****

“You should see this place,” Esme says four hours later, after all the kids have finally settled in their rooms and have managed to fall asleep. “Remember when we stayed at Mahajan’s? What that place was like? Well this Mahajan’s on steroids. I am serious. Ten bedrooms. TEN! And eleven bathrooms! Who cleans all those bathrooms? We have three and we can’t keep up half the time. And the master ensuite is bigger than our entire bedroom. And our room at home is what I consider huge.”

He can’t hold but smile at the youthful exuberance in her voice. He knows she’s exhausted; physically and emotionally. Not just from a twelve hour flight with five kids, but with everything that’s gone down within the past month and a half. But he can hear the difference; being in Mumbai and closer to him has lifted some of the stress and worry, replacing it with relief and at least some peace of mind.

“And you should the shit this guy has,” she continues. “I’ve never seen anything like it. An underground garage full of insanely expensive exotic cars. A home theatre, indoor and outdoor pools and jacuzzis, his own tennis and basketball courts. Who needs all this stuff? I thought we had a lot of stuff. This? This is our stuff times a thousand.”

“We have a lot of stuff...normal stuff...because we have five kids. He has a lot of stuff because he doesn't have anyone or anything else to spend his money on.”

“”I mean, we have money too. We’re not exactly poor. Not anymore, anyway.”

“We don’t have his kind of money, babe. What we have in the bank is like a month’s salary to him.”

“We also don’t buy stuff just to buy and have stuff. This is just insane to me. And the animals. It’s not one or two, Tyler. It’s its own goddamn zoo. He’s got tigers and monkeys and peacocks and a sloth. And snakes. So many snakes. Don’t even get me started on the snakes. All I have to say is thank god they’re far enough away from the house and securely contained. Because you know my fear of snakes.”

“I don’t know where this fear comes from. We’ve only had one snake in the house so far.”

“In my shoe!” She reminds him. “Which I tried to stick my foot into, thank you very much.”

“What was one of the first things I told you when we first moved back to Australia? Especially where we moved TO. Check your shoes before you put them on. If you listened to me more often…”

“What if it bit me?”

“You would have lived because it wasn’t poisonous. And it was a baby. The way you fucking screamed, you would have though it was an anaconda trying to eat one or two of the kids.”

“I don’t like snakes. I told this when we first lived there. That I’m scared of them but I loved you enough to live somewhere where there’s tons of them. And you promised you’d be the one to handle them. And the spiders.”

“Which I have. And the dingoes. Have I let a dingo get you?”

“You’re probably waiting for the opportunity to feed me to one.”

“Baby, if I wanted to get rid of you, there’s about a hundred different ways I could do it. And feeding you to a dingo is NOT one of them. And I don’t want to get rid of you, so…” He stretches his legs out in front of him, resting his bare feet on the top railing of the balcony. “...you’re safe.”

“What I don’t understand is our children’s fascination and love of snakes and spiders. If you didn’t encourage them to pick the damn things up and let them crawl all over them…”

“They’re not dangerous. They can’t hurt the kids. Let’s not raise pussies, okay? They have to learn about stuff, yeah? Let them learn. As long as they’re not in danger, what’s the worst that could happen? What are they going to do? Want a Huntsman as a pet?”

“I will refuse to step foot in the house again,” she declares. “I will move out. I will live with Ovi in the guest house. If you EVER let the kids do anything like that, I swear…”

“I’d miss you too much. I know what lines I can’t cross.”

“Speaking of lines you shouldn’t cross. Who’s the girl you were with tonight?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? You thought I wouldn’t notice you left with her?”

Tyler grins. “Esme, are you jealous?”

“Do I have a reason to be?”

“I kind of like this. You getting all jealous. You getting all worked up. It’s kinda hot, actually. And no, you don’t have a reason to be jealous. She’s young enough to be my kid.”

“Maybe she likes older men.”

“Good for her. But I like you, so…”

“So who is she?”

“Riya. She works for Nik. She’s from Dubai. Apparently her folks are loaded and basically disowned her for going to school in the States and picking the job she did. Sound familiar?”

“That DOES seem a little too close to home for my liking.”

“She actually wants to talk to you.”

“Oh how cute,” Esme scoffs. “She wants my permission before she bangs my husband. Well at least this is asking before she tries.”

“Only person I want to bang is you. And she wants to talk to you about Ovi.”

“Ovi? What about him?”

“You’re the one who can’t stay out of other peoples’ business, right? You like meddling in relationships.”

“Pardon me? It’s advising. Not meddling. Advising.”

“She wants you to hook her up.”

“With Ovi?”

“Are you following along at all or have I been talking to myself?”

“I mean, it’s Ovi. He’s like my kid. No. Scratch that. He IS my kid. I can’t set him up./”

“Why not?”

“Do you want me setting Millie up? Or TJ? Or Tanner?”

“First off, Millie is six. The boys are five. It’s not the same thing. Just do it. Put in a good word for her.” 

“So now you’re encouraging me to meddle? That’s a first for you.”

“I’m encouraging you to help a poor, desperate girl out. And Ovi too. He’s been acting like a little bitch since Chloe took off and I can’t can’t take much more. So do me a solid and save what’s left of my sanity and help Ovi get laid.”

“Okay, wow. THAT’S a little disturbing. Isn’t that supposed to be your thing? Anything sex related? You’re a guy. You find him a piece of ass. Call one of your hoes from your old little black book.”

“Actually, I didn’t have anyone in India,” Tyler admits.

“You poor baby,” she scoffs. “My heart bleeds for you. And find. I will put in a good word for this girl. But if you want him to get laid, you figure out how to make it happen. And don’t sample the goods, either.”

“Only goods I want to sample are yours. So why don’t you come over here and let me.”

“You’re hurting, aren’t you,” Esme laughs.

“A little. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days, Tyler.”

“Feels like it’s been forever. What are you wearing?”

“Are you serious right now? You want to have phone sex?”

“You can’t come here and I can’t go there, so…”

“I’m wearing a lovely combination of premenstrual syndrome, baby puke, and dog hair.”

“Now THAT’S sexy. PMS, huh? So things are going back to normal that way.”

“It was going to happen eventually,” Esme sighs. “After the next one, they can take everything out. I’m done. I won’t need any of it anymore. They can have it. If I never have a period again, that’s fine by me, I’d say it’s good for you too because you won’t have to put up with my extreme bitchiness once a month, but you have two daughter who will go through this one day.”

He frowns “Can Addie at least get to her first birthday before we talk about this shit?”

“It’s going to happen, Tyler. I mean it could happen to Millie in a few years. I was ten.”

“Esme, for fuck sakes. I don’t…”

“Sorry, honey. I hate to break your heart like this. But one day it’s going to happen. And one day she’s even going to want to have sex and need to go on birth control and…”

“Do you want a divorce? Because bringing this shit up is how you get a divorce.”

“I love you, Tyler James. You’re my favorite human And I love how you can impale someone with a garden rake but you can’t handle the thought of your daughter maturing. You’re so fucking cute. You’re so cute, I’d have phone sex with you right now if my cramps weren’t so bad. I am telling you, after the next one? My body is done. That’s it. Take it all out. It’s not needed anymore.”

“Next one? I thought we weren’t going to talk about that until I got home.”

“I made the decision. Without you.”

He smirks. “Oh, so you mean like you usually do about everything.”

“Pretty much. If you really want another one…”

“You gotta want it too. Not just me. I don’t want you doing it just because I want it.”

“I do want to. One more. An even number. And if something happens like it did with the one that should have been between the twins and Declan…”

Tyler sighs. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We stop if something goes wrong. Because once was bad enough. Well twice, if I count the one with Mark. I can’t keep having my heart broken like that. And if we can’t successfully carry another one, we just stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “And it wasn’t fun for me, either. Going through that. It was my baby too.”

“I know. But you were amazing and so good with me and it made me love you even more. I’m worried about you, Tyler. There was something in your eyes tonight. When you talked about what you did today. I can’t put my finger on it. I just know what I saw and that I’ve never seen it before. It wasn’t old Tyler OR new Tyler. I don’t know who it was.”

“Before I tell you what’s going on, I need to tell you what I did. And I know you hate hearing the gory details. But I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” There’s a slight rustle of the phone as she shifts positions in bed. “...I’m not going to sleep for a couple days after this, am I.” While she accepts and supports what he does, she draws the line at hearing the details. She’d seen enough in Dhaka, and once that was over, so was her desire to ever see -or think about- another drop of blood again. “Did you shoot them?”

“No. I didn’t shoot them. I was more...hands on.”

“Like your bare hands, or…?”

“Sort of. I kinda slit a guy’s throat and gutted another one. Literally.”

“Okay…”

“And I liked it. I liked doing it. And I’ve never liked doing it before. I killed because I had to. Because I had to keep myself alive. Now I’m doing it because I WANT to. Because I enjoy it. That’s fucked, yeah? Tell me that’s fucked. That I’M fucked.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s fucked. And I definitely won’t say you’re fucked. And I can’t say I’m totally shocked. Or shocked at all, to be honest.”

“Maybe we’re both fucked,” he says. “And not in the good, fun way either.”

“Well before you question our levels of depravity and insanity, let’s look at this for what it is. This isn’t a normal job. This isn’t what you’re used to. You’re used to not having any emotional ties to what you do. You go in, you do what you have to do, you get out. That’s it. You don’t know these people, you don’t know the people they’re hurting, none of that. You’re not connected to any of them, right?”

“Right.”

“Well this time you DO have a connection. A very personal one. These people threatened your family. And I don’t know exactly what the threats are, but they must be pretty bad if you won’t tell me. I mean, people are saying horrible, twisted things about people you love. About me and your kids. It doesn’t get more fucked up than that; threatening children. Addie’s one of them and she’s just a baby. What kind of fucked person says shit like that about a baby?”

“Evil people,” Tyler concludes. “Really fucking evil.”

“And you’re pissed. To your very core. I see if in your eyes, Tyler. I hear it in your voice. How angry you actually are. How disgusted you are. And you have every right to feel those things. This is as personal as it gets. And you wonder why you enjoyed it? I’d enjoy it too if someone threatened you and I got to kill them. I’d enjoy every fucking second.”

“It just makes me feel like such a dick,” he admits. “Like I’m a horrible fucking person. I made the one guy look at me. Made him watch me while I slit his throat. And he recognized me. He knew who I was. And I liked that he did. That my face was the last thing he saw.”

“And that doesn’t make you a bad person,” Esme says. “A bad person wouldn’t be worried that it makes him a bad person. You’re a good person, Tyler. I know you struggle to see that. But I see it. And I know it. I know who you are away from all of this. I know how loving you are. How gentle you are. What you did today...what you felt or didn’t feel...that doesn’t erase who you are or what you’re like away from all of this.”

He blinks back tears “This is fucked. This all so fucked.”

“You’re doing what you have to do. You’re stopping them before they can do the same thing to us. Or worse.”

“Definitely worse. Much, much worse.”

“Do you want to tell me what the threats were or…”

“No. You don’t need to hear that. You don’t need that shit in your head. It’s bad enough it’s in mine. That it’s probably never going to leave.”

“We’ll work on that,” Esme promises. “Your brain. When we get home. We’ll work on it TOGETHER. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Tyler. So much. And I wish I could be right there with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. That you’re struggling with so many things. But I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in this throat and using a forearm to wipe the tears from his face. “I love you. And this sucks. Being away from you. You’re so close but it’s like you’re so fucking far.”

“If you need me there, I can find a way. And I will. You know me. I’m pretty sneaky and tenacious on a good day.”

He gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, you are.”

“And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if you need me there….”

“I’m okay. For now anyway. Stay with the kids. They need you.”

“So do you. Even if you won’t admit it.”

“I do. Need you. But they need you more.”

“Promise me you’ll call if it gets worse. If you change your mind. Because I’ll figure it out. How to get to you and stay with you. Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Get some sleep, okay? It’s been a long day. Call me in the morning. Just so I know how you’re doing.”

“I will.”

“And thank you. For showing up tonight. Seeing you did a world of good for the kids. Especially Tanner. He’s finally smiling again. And he has such a beautiful smile. YOUR smile. And it did me a world of good too. To see you. I miss you, And your arms. It was really nice to be in those arms again,”

“It felt good to have you in them. Hopefully in a few days…”

“It’ll happen. I know it will. You’re doing fine. Just keep doing what you have to do. That’s it. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Get some sleep.” she gently orders, and then disconnects the call.


	60. Chapter 60

When she finally wakes, it's with sunshine streaming through the bedroom windows and the digital bedside clock advertising that it’s 10:35. The latter nearly sends her into a blind panic; bolting into a sitting position, eyes still blurry from sleep and her brain groggy as it tries to orientate itself with the unfamiliar surroundings. Momentarily oblivious to the fact that she isn’t at home. Briefly not only forgetting that she’s actually thousands of miles away, but just WHY she is.

She’d spent the last nine hours in a deep and peaceful slumber; a feat she hasn’t managed to achieve once in the past six years. Worn out not just from the lack of adequate rest over the course of the last month and a half or from the gruelling twelve hour flight from Australia, but the hours after the conversation with Tyler that she’d spent dwelling over the pain and the worry that not only tinged his words, but dripped from his voice. He’d never admit just how things are; preferring to suffer in silence under the misconception that he's somehow a burden. It’s a hard habit to break someone of, if not entirely impossible. She’s been working at it for almost seven years now; attempting to not only break down that final barrier he’d long ago built up around himself, but convince him that the second they decided to have a life together, his issues and problems stopped belonging to JUST him. But he’s ferociously stubborn, and years of being raised in an abusive home by an extremely toxic and volatile man, followed by military life, has done a lot of damage. The last effects and scars from physical injuries left behind, but the deepest and most painful wounds festering just under the surface.

She casts a furtive glance towards the cradle at the side of the bed; appreciative of the fully furnished and exquisitely decorated nursery that Anil had provided, but needing the baby as close as possible, at least for the few nights. And her eyes widen and her heart immediately begins thundering in her chest when she finds Addie’s bed empty; devoid of even the stuffed koala -which had once belonged to Millie when she was just newly born- that had been tucked into the corner of the cradle. And she’s ready to toss off the blankets and jump out of bed when a tiny voice pipes up from beside her and puts her worst fears to rest.

“She’s downstairs. With Prisha.”

Esme frowns. “Who’s Prisha?”

Tanner shrugs. “I dunno. I think she’s a nanny or something. But she’s old. Like grandma and Nana Bonnie. Why are there so many people living here? Why do they all do so much work? They clean, they cook, they watch kids. At home, you and daddy do all that stuff.”

“Because Anil has a lot more money than we do and he’s so busy, that he needs to have people taking care of things around the house. Which is bigger than ours. WAY bigger. And when you have a place that’s this big, you need help keeping up with it.”

“Our house is big.”

“By most peoples’ standards. But compared to THIS house, it’s tiny.”

Tanner shrugs. “I like our better, anyway.”

“You don’t like it here? I thought you’d find it pretty cool. TWO pools, a home theatre, all kinds of awesome animals…”

“I like home better. Because it’s home. Because all our stuff is there. I don’t want new stuff, I want OUR stuff. And the beach is there and the smell of the water and the sound of the waves and none of that is here.”

“And it will all still be there when we get back,” she assures him.

“What if we never go back? What if we have to stay here? I don’t wanna stay here. I wanna go back to our house. I wanna go back to our furniture and eating OUR food and sharing a room with TJ. I don’t like not sleeping with him. I’ve always shared a room with him. And I was with him in your tummy too.”

Esme lies back down and rolls onto her side, watching him. One his stomach beside her, knees bent and his bare feet slowly kicking back and forth. Brow furrowed in concentration as he uses a pencil to carefully circle things and fill in blank spaces in the workbook open in front of him. And she reaches out and pushes his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, then runs a fingertip down the bridge of her nose and taps it against the tip.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re really cute?” she asks,

“There’s a couple girls in my class that say it all the time.”

"Really?" 

He nods. “But I told them I can only be friends because I don’t like girls in THAT way yet. I told them I only love one girl, and that’s mommy.”

“No wonder you’re my favorite. Sweet talking me like that. What are you doing?”

“Homework.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I want to.”

“Let me see…” she pulls back the corner of the cover to read the title. “Where did you get this? It’s for kids in grade three.”

“Daddy bought it for me the last time we were in town. ‘Cause he said the stuff at school is way too easy for me”

“And you actually understand what you’re reading?”

“Ummm...yeah…” Tanner gives a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “...of course I do! I’m not stupid. Besides, daddy made me read some to him and made me answer some of the questions before he’d buy it. He said I have a huge brain pan, whatever that means.”

“You honestly can read it and understand it?”

“Mommy, I’m smart like you. Just ‘cause Millie and TJ as dumb, doesn’t mean I am,”

“Okay first off, that’s a little harsh. You brother and sister are not dumb. Far from it. But you? You’re insanely smart. Scary smart. You’re also very grumpy this morning.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You ARE. And I have seen that exact frown and those lines in your forehead and those serious eyes a thousand times. You are sounding and looking more like your daddy every day. He gets that same look on his face when he’s grumpy. And what are you wearing?” She tugs at the sleeve of the black and gray Emery t-shirt he sports; miles too big on his slight frame.

“It’s daddy’s. I asked him if I could have one of his shirts before he left and he picked this one and packed it in my bag for me. I wanted something that smells like him ‘cause it helps not miss him so much.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes. That honesty; so pure and so innocent. A little boy that possesses such huge emotions and loves so fiercely. “Oh little nugget…” she tousles his hair. “...you have such a big, sensitive heart. Come here; let me make it so it fits better.” 

She gathers him into her arms and rolls onto her back, and he sits crossed legged on her stomach while she gathers the bottom of the shirt and draws it around his waist; securing it in a knot before doing the same with each shoulder. “We’ll have to buy daddy a new shirt. Something tells me you won’t give him this one back.”

“Imma keep it,” Tanner says, then wraps both arms around her neck and stretches his legs out; pressing himself tightly against her, face nestled against the side of her neck, feeling the soft tickle of those ridiculously long lashes against her skin when he closes his eyes.

Despite how much he hates hearing it, he IS still so very little. Four inches shorter than his brother and at least fifteen pounds lighter; limbs not as long and shoulders much more narrow. But it makes for good cuddles, and she can still pick him up relatively effortlessly and carry him if she has to. And his personality matches his appearance. Softer and more tender hearted than his twin; affection and loving and breathtakingly sensitive and heartbreakingly wise. An old soul in such a little boy. And while TJ is rough and wild and carefree, Tanner is more cautious. Wary, almost. Fiercely protective of his own self. And her own eyes close when she wraps both arms around his slender body and drops a kiss on the top of his head.

“I don’t want to be the little one,” he laments.

“Where did THAT come from?”

“I want to be the big one. I want to be tall and strong. Like daddy. How come I have to be the small one?”

“You’ve always been small, nugget. Even when you were a baby. There’s nothing wrong with being small. I’m small.”

“But you’re a girl. How come I had to be the sick one?”

“It’s just the way it worked out. Sometimes things go wrong when mommies are having babies. And we didn’t know you’d be sick; it just happened. You guys were born too early and you ended up being the much smaller one.”

“And why couldn’t I come out first? I wanna be named after daddy.”

“What does it matter?”

“‘Cause it does. I want daddy’s name. It’s a good name.”

“You don’t like being named Tanner?”

“I’d rather be named Tyler.”

“I have a secret to tell you,” Esme says. “But you have to promise to never tell your brother. Because it would hurt his feelings and we don’t want that, right?”

Tanner nods.

“When you were in my tummy? When daddy and I found out it was two babies and not just one? We decided that I’d pick one name and he’d picked the other. So when we found out we were having two boys, I said I would name the first that came out and daddy would name the next one. And I decided that I wanted the first to be named Tyler.”

“It was your idea?” 

“Yep.” She combs her fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Daddy didn’t want either of you named after him, but I got my way. And he picked the name Tanner. So you know what that means? You have the name you do because that’s what daddy chose. He wanted you to be named Tanner.”

He raises his head to look at her. “Really?”

“Really. He picked your name. That’s how much he liked it. That’s what he wanted you to be named. And you know what else? You were so sick when you were born, that daddy was the only person allowed to hold you before they took you to take care of you. And he stayed with you for two whole days in the NICU. He slept in a chair beside your bed and he never left; he didn’t want you to be alone and I was too sick too and I wasn’t allowed to see you yet. So it was just you and daddy for a whole forty eight hours.”

“Just us?”

“Just the two of you. And you remember what the doctor told us to do with Addie? When you place her against bare skin? Do you remember? What animal is it named after?”

“A kangaroo. Kangaroo care.”

“That’s it. Well daddy got to that with you, too. Even though you were hooked up to all kinds of wires and tubes, he still got to hold you like that. And the nurses said that was the only time you were nice and calm and never cried.”

“Never?”

“Never. And daddy was really, really sad. Because he was so worried about you. But stayed there with you the whole time because he already loved you THAT much, and he would have stayed even longer, but someone needed to take care of Millie and TJ and I wanted to spend time with you. But see? Daddy’s always loved you. IT doesn’t matter how small you are or what your name is. He still helped make you. And that’s what matters, right?”

Tanner nods. 

“He loves you so much, nugget. Right from the beginning. Right back to when you were still in my tummy and he used to talk to you guys and you’d both kick like crazy whenever you heard his voice. And you were strong even then. You kicked HARD.”

“I did?”

“Daddy would always say that you were going to be a professional soccer player. Or an MMA fighter. That’s how hard you kicked! And you’re still strong; even stronger than your brother. You’re small, but you’re mighty.”

“Like you. And Addie.”

“Well maybe not THAT small. But you’re probably going to have a growth spurt when you’re fifteen and end up as tall as daddy. I want you to stay small, though. It’s easier to cuddle you. I LIKE cuddling you. What if you grow big and strong and you don’t want to cuddle me anymore?”

“I will always want to cuddle with you. You’re my mommy. No one gives better cuddles than mommy. No one.”

“So when you are six foot five and weight two hundred pounds and you ARE a bad ass MMA fighter, you’re still going to want to cuddle mommy?”

“Always,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her lips before settling his face against the side of her neck once more.

“Is everyone else downstairs too?” Esme asks.

Tanner nods.

“How come you’re not down there?”

“I was. But I left and came back upstairs.”

“Why?”

Because Anil is trying to be daddy and I don’t like it.”

She frowns. “Trying to be daddy? How…?”

“He made breakfast for us. But nowhere near as good as daddy’s. And he let us sit outside while we ate and he told us cool stories and talked all about the animals he has and told us we could go swimming later. All the stuff daddy does with us, but not as fun. With daddy it’s different. It’s more fun. We get to go surfing and we walk on the beach and collect rocks and shells and stuff. And he’s nice and all that, but he is NOT daddy and I don’t like that he’s trying to be.”

“I don’t think he…”

“I don’t want him taking daddy’s place. I don’t want him thinking he can steal you away from daddy. ‘Cause I like him and all that, I don’t want him to be my dad. I already have a dad and he’s the best dad ever, so…”

“Okay, you know what, nugget? You and I need to have a talk. Sit up. I want you to look at me when I talk to you, alright?”

Tanner nods, then sits up and settles himself between her splayed thighs when she does the same.

“Now listen to me, alright?” She pushes his hair off his forehead, then places her hands on his shoulders. “No one is taking daddy’s place. Because for that to happen, I’d have to be okay with it. And that’s something I will never…ever...be okay with. I don’t want anyone taking his place. Because you know what, your daddy is perfect the way he is. He’s perfect for me and you guys and...”

“But if he dies…”

“Tanner, listen to me. He is NOT going to die. And even if he did...and that’s a huge if...I still wouldn’t be okay with someone taking his place. No one could ever do that. If something happened to him, it would me and your brothers and sisters. That’s it. Understand?”

He nods. 

“Your daddy is way more than just your daddy. He’s my husband AND he’s my best friend. And I love him more than I even love myself. And there’s no one earth that could take his place.”

“Ever?”

“Ever. Anil is NOT trying to be your dad. He’s not trying to take anyone’s place. He’s a friend of daddy’s and he promised daddy that he’d give us a nice, safe place to stay while he works. And it’s a really awesome place isn’t it.”

Tanner nods. 

“Daddy trusts Anil to look after us because he can’t right now. Anil’s just trying to make this easier on your guys. Because he knows how sad you all are and how hard it is to be away from home and away from daddy. He’s just being nice and trying to make us feel comfortable and welcome. That’s it. Understand what I’m saying?”

“I understand.”

“So stop worrying so much about all this other stuff, okay? Daddy’s not going to die, no one is going to take his place, and eventually we’ll all get to go home. You believe me, right?”

“I believe you, mommy. But I still don’t want to go downstairs without you. It’s bad enough I can’t do things with daddy. I don’t want to do things with you EITHER.”

“Well can I least go pee and put on something other than pjs first?”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose, do you?” She smothers his face with kisses until he’s shrieking and giggling, then tousles his hair. “You want to call daddy? I told him I’d call when I got up. You want to talk to him first?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically, then scrambles across the bed on his hands and knees to retrieve her phone from the night table. “Can I dial it?”

“You know his number?”

“Mom, I know how to get into your contacts. I’m five. I know this stuff.”

“You are way too smart for your own good,” she declares, then presses a kiss to his temple as he settles himself between her legs, back against her stomach.

****

Tyler excuses himself from the team briefing when his cell phone vibrates against the tabletop and his wife's name appears on the screen. When she’d promised to call when she woke up, he’d expected it to be a lot sooner; mornings come quick with five, especially with an infant. With the lingering uneasiness from last night’s confession and subsequent conversation, it had been easy to let his paranoia and worst fears get the better of him; growing more and more concerned with each passing minute, yet resisting the urge to call incessantly and left umpteen messages. He’d KNOW if something was wrong. Nik is there. Anil had even gone personally to make sure that everyone is settled and comfortable and being treated well and to check that things are running smoothly. Had something gone down...IF they were in any danger...he’d be the first one to find out. 

He snags his half full take out cup of coffee from the table before heading into the central courtyard; blinking against the harsh, brilliant sun, and groaning inwardly when two of Anil’s people -heavily armed- followed closely behind. None of the rooms that overlook the area have balconies OR windows that open; the only real threat could come from the roof, and that’s sixteen floors above and Anil has even more guards stationed up there. And he grimaces as he takes a seat on one of the concrete benches; an ache across the small of his back and stiffness in his knee. 

Nothing a couple of hours in the gym won’t solve; working up a sweat and getting all the kinks out.

“Hey,” he says as he answers the call. “You sleep in or something? ‘Cause…”

“Hi daddy!” Tanner cheerfully greets, and a smile immediately plays on his lips. Six months ago he would never have been able to tell the twins apart on the phone. Now it’s more than obvious who is who; Tanner’s accent coming in much thicker and more pronounced.

“Hey, mate. What’s going on? What’cha up to?”

“Mommy said I could call you. Are you busy?”

“I’m never busy when it comes to you.”

“You’re not beating up any bad guys?”

“Not yet. Later. Once you go to bed. You okay? Sleep alright?”

“Not really,” Tanner admits. “I didn’t like sleeping without Teej. The room is nice and all that and the bed is huge, but I’ve been with Teej for forever. Even when we were in mommy’s tummy. I don’t like being without him. I can’t sleep proper.”

“Well maybe tonight, just go in and sleep with him in his bed,” Tyler suggests. “He won’t admit it. But he’s probably missing you too. He’s used to you always being around. You having fun? What’s the house like?”

“Alright, I suppose.”

“Just alright? Your mom made it sound pretty awesome. Lots of cool stuff to do there, yeah?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I miss home. I miss our stuff. I miss the beach. I miss you making breakfast and waiting for the school bus with us.”

“When this is all over, we can go back to all that stuff.”

“How long?” Tanner asks. “Until it’s over?”

“I don’t know, mate. Not too long I hope.”

“We don’t have to stay here forever, do we? I don’t want to stay here forever. It’s nice and all that not, but it’s not as nice as home. Everything I know is at home. I don’t know any of this stuff. And there’s too many people here. I don’t like lots of people around.”

“I know it sucks to be away from home, but I need you to do me a favor. I need you to at least give the place a chance. I know you miss home. I miss it too. But this will all go a lot faster and easier if you try to enjoy it. Can you do that? For me? At least try?”

“Just for you,” Tanner promises. “And I don’t want another dad.”

Tyler laughs, coffee cup poised against his lips. “What?”

“I don’t want another dad,” his son repeats. “Anil’s a nice guy, but I don’t want him as my new dad.”

“Tanner,” Esme sighs in the background. “We talked about this. Stop.”

“I’m telling daddy about it. He should know if someone is trying to take his place.”

“No one is trying to take his place. We JUST talked about this.”

“Anil is trying to be you,” Tanner explains. “Not you, exactly. But a daddy. He’s trying to be a daddy. MY daddy. And I don’t like it. I already have a dad. I don’t need another one. Can I come stay with you wherever you are?”

“I don’t think he’s trying to do that,” Tyler says. “I think he’s just trying to be nice.”

“What if he tries to steal mommy from you?”

“Well if he wants her that bad…”

“I can hear you,” Esme pipes up. “He has you on speaker phone.”

“No one is going to steal your mom away,” Tyler assures his son. “Or even try. Especially if they know what’s good for them.””

“You’ll beat them up?”

“I was thinking they wouldn’t be able to handle her cooking. But if you rather I beat them up…”

“You’re both on my shit list,” Esme declares.

“Anil isn’t trying to be your dad,” Tyler says. “He’s trying to be dad like, but not A dad. Know what I mean?”

“Not really,” Tanner admits.

“He’s trying to do things for you guys that a dad would do. So you’ll be comfortable there. So you’ll be happy. That’s all. He’s not trying to be your dad or take my place. And unless your mom is planning on getting rid of me, you’re kind of stuck with me.”

“But what if you die?”

“Tanner!” Esme scolds. “What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s a valid question, mom. What if daddy dies? Then what? Then I have no dad.”

“Well then your mom would have to find you a new one, I guess,” Tyler tells him.

“No frigging way! I’d rather no dad than a new one. I don’t want some shitty new dad.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “How about you stop worrying about this kind of stuff? You’re five. You’re way too young for gray hair and an ulcer.”

“I can’t help it,” Tanner laments. “It’s how my brain works. I worry. It’s what I do.”

“You sounded so much like your mom just then. Why don’t go and be a kid? Go swimming. Watch a movie. Go see the animals. There’s all kinds of stuff to do there. Go do one of them.”

“Nothing’s fun without you, though. It’s boring. You do cool stuff with us and now it’s boring as shit!”

“What did I say about giving things a chance?”

Tanner sighs. “Fine. I’ll try. But I’ll hate every second.”

“You’ll be saying that same thing when you’re older and you have to work for a living.”

“Not if I do your job. I’d like to beat up bad people.”

“Well there’s more to it than that and I’d rather you NOT do it. For now, you’re only five. Be a five year old, yeah? Leave worrying about adult shit to actual adults, hear me?”

“I hear you. And I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Let me talk to your mom, okay? You go be a kid. I love you.”

“I love you, daddy. Will you call me later? Before you go beat up the bad guys?”

“I promise I’ll call you. Try and have fun. Please?”

“I’ll try. But it won’t happen…”

“Tanner…”

“I’m nothing if not honest.”

“You’re grumpy is what you are. I’m serious; be a kid. Leave adult stuff to adults. Try to have fun. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?”

“Can you stay when you come? Even just for a couple of days?”

“I can’t. I want to. But I can’t.”

“Just for ONE day?”

“Not even for one day,” he reluctantly admits.

“Can you stay overnight at least? Then you can make breakfast in the morning before you go?”

“I’ll see, okay? I’ll find out if I can. I’m not making any promises, though. But I’ll find it. Let me talk to mommy. And NOT on speaker phone.”

“She’s in trouble, isn’t she.”

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

“What are you talking about? I’m the good one.”

Tyler smirks. “Tell that to the fifteen bucks you scammed out of me.”

“Listen, I did that fair and square. Not my fault you fell for it.” His giggling stops and he turns seriously once again. “I miss you, daddy. My heart is sad.”

“Mine is too, mate. But I’ll see you soon. I promise. Now let me talk to your mom and you go be a kid.”

“Fine.” Tanner huffs. “But I still don’t want another dad.”

“Go downstairs,” Esme gently orders. “And be nice. Quit being such a grump. And don’t give me that look because I don’t put up with it from your father and I sure as hell won’t put up with it from a five year old. Just go. I’ll be down in a minute. I swear…” she sighs into the phone. “...he is five going on fifteen. Hi, by the way. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. And what the hell is going on over there that he’s got it in his head that he’s getting a new dad?”

“Nothing. Nothing is going on. I haven’t even been downstairs yet. I don’t even know where downstairs is and if I can’t find it. I need a map or a GPS to locate the kitchen. And you know what Tanner is like. He worries about things that aren’t even happening and probably never will. He IS going to give himself an ulcer. And you say he’s not like you?”

He sips his coffee. “What about the other ones?”

“They’re fine. I mean, as fine as they can be. They’re at least embracing the whole thing and making the best of it. But I don’t know how much of this I can take. All these people around; maid and cooks and nannies and all that shit. I woke up this morning and Addie was gone. I almost had a stroke. I guess one of the nannies came in and got her.”

“It’s what he’s hired all these people to do,” Tyler reasons. “To take care of you guys.”

“She could have at least said she was taking her instead of just coming in and doing it. And I don’t need people watching my kids. This isn’t my first baby; I’ve taken care of four other ones, including two at once. It’s just weird. I don’t know how people live like this.”

“And you call Tanner grumpy?” he chides.

“I don’t like strangers just up and taking my children. I’m used to it being us. Not twenty different people I can’t even communicate with. And I’m sorry; I didn’t call to bitch at you, I swear.”

“I’m used to it. It’s been seven years. Nothing new to me.”

“You're such a smart ass,” she mutters, then turns serious. “Are you okay? Did the night get any better?”

“A little.” He won’t tell her about the bottle of whisky he’d polished off, or how guilty he feels about it now. Some things are better left unsaid. 

“Do you want me to come there?” Esme asks. “I could stay for a couple of days. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” he insists.

“That’s horseshit and you know it. If you want me to come…”

“It’s not that I DON’T want you to. It's that I also want you to say with kids. Where I know you’re safe.”

“I’m safer with you. I trust you. These people are strangers and I can’t just blindly trust them. I at least know...one hundred percent...that I’m safe with you.”

“They’re not all strangers,” he argues. “Nik’s there.”

“Nik isn’t you. Seriously, if you want me there…”

“I do. You have no idea how much. But I want you to stay with the kids. MY kids. Bad enough I’m gone; they don’t need the two of us taking off.”

“And you’re going back out tonight?”

“Yeah,”

“Alone?”

“Don’t start.”

“How dangerous is it? Is it something you should be doing alone?”

“On a scale of one to ten? Maybe a three.”

“I don’t trust your scale. What you can handle and what a normal person can handle are two entirely different things. How many people this time?”

“Four.”

“Four? By yourself? Tyler, what the fuck?”

“It’s not hands on. Sniper work. It’ll be easy. Four shots and I’m done. Nothing to worry about.”

Esme sighs heavily. “I think you just gave me a hundred more gray hairs. This is insane. Four people? By yourself?”

“I just told you…”

“I know what you told me. I think it’s too much. Even for you. Take someone with you. Please? For my own peace of mind.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Now is NOT the time to be stubborn. I’m just worried. You know that.”

“I do know that.”

“And I know that you won’t take anyone with you. Just be careful, okay? These people are smart. And that makes them even more dangerous. Just be careful and be safe, okay?”

“I will,” he promises. “I gotta go. I walked out in the middle of a team meeting.”

“You could have just said that at the beginning and you could have called me back.”

“You’re more important than any meeting. And I needed to talk to you. To hear your voice.”

“I needed that too,” she admits. “Maybe later you can phone and I can hear it again. This time saying more ADULT stuff.”

Tyler grins. “I could do that.”

“Oh I know you can. I know the filth that is capable of coming out of your mouth. I better go; before Tanner starts planning my wedding to Anil.”

“Well he could give you a better wedding than I gave you” Tyler reasons.

“Ours was perfect. It was small and it was quaint and it was very us. I love you. We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah, we will. And I love you, too.”

“Be safe. Call me as soon as soon as it’s done. So I know you’re okay.”

“I will,” he promises. “Let me know where you’re registered so I can get you and your second husband a wedding gift.”

“You’re not funny. In the slightest.

“That’s ‘cause I’m fucking hilarious.”

“In your own mind, maybe. Talk later.”

“For sure,” he says, then presses end on the phone. And he sits there for several minutes; eyes fixated on the blackened screen of the cell clutched tightly in his hand. Attempting to control the profound ache that settles deep in his chest. That overwhelming loneliness. And impending sense of doom.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: violence, forced drug use
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Cchod do: Give up
> 
> Kabhee Naheen: Never

Ten thirty at night and the heat is unbearable. The humidity hangs heavily; thick and suffocating, a visible haze floating inches above the ground and casting an eerie, ominous glows around the streetlights. Sweat already glistens on his brow and the nape of his neck and gathers along his hairline, sitting briefly at his temples before trickling down the sides of his face. Even in the short time it took him to walk the two blocks from his drop off point, his clothes are already damp; shirt clinging between his shoulders and to the small of his back. His knee and his shoulder are already throbbing when he reaches his destination: an alley behind a derelict and boarded up building. An old factory that had gone out of business in the early sixties and then turned into a residence dedicated to overseas students. Years of neglect and an absentee landlord had been its demise; now sticking out like a sore thumb among the trendy cafes, bars, and restaurants and high end fashion boutiques. While it is no longer of use to the general public, it provides Tyler with exactly what he needs; an excellent vantage point of his four targets and the opportunity for clear and precise shots. And while the heat is nauseating and incessant, the weather is actually an asset; the air perfectly still, no chance of the breeze fucking up a kill by catching a bullet. It’s not uncommon; the elements working against you. Wind is especially troublesome, and he’d take the driving rain and even blinding snow over it any day of the week.

He uses the fire escape to get to the fifth floor; gaining access to the building through a shattered window. Removing the rucksack from his shoulder, he tosses it inside before gingerly swinging leg over the edge and then the other. He pulls the hood of the sweater he wears under his tactical vest over his head; protecting himself from the remaining shards of jagged and dangerously sharp glass. It’s half an hour before ‘go time’ and he slowly and carefully navigates his way through the abandoned building. Floors bowing and loudly creaking under his feet; having to step over gaps left by missing wooden boards. A musty smell hangs in the air; accompanied by the distinct odor of rotting garbage and fecal matter, likely both animal AND human. So powerful that it not only makes him gag and forces him to bring part of his hoodie up over his mouth and nose, but immediately brings back memories of Dhaka. Of having to take refuge in the ‘worst sewer on the planet’; wading through shin high water filled with trash and attempting to avoid the rats that had long ago made the place home. Of the call to Nik and his insistence that she call Gaspar for help.

It’s almost seven years ago but it’s as vivid and real as it was just yesterday. The sounds, the smell, those brief feelings of defeat and hopelessness. And Nik’s voice. There’d been something in it; the way she’d argued with him and tried to convince him that calling Gaspar was a terrible idea. He hadn’t paid attention to it at the time. Anxious to get the fuck out of that sewer and to somewhere quiet and safe; where he could sit back for a couple of days and figure out a way to get the fuck out of Dhaka in once piece. It wasn’t just his life hanging in the balance, and even then he’d been more than willing to sacrifice his own for theirs. As long as the kid and the girl got out safe, that’s all that had mattered. Maybe he HAD been looking for absolution; a chance to do one thing right that would make up for all the bad decisions he’d made, all the wrong he’d committed through his thirty-five years.

“For fuck sake, get it together,” Tyler mutters aloud, then pushes all thoughts and memories of Dhaka out of his mind. 

Now is NOT the time to dig up old ghosts. Not the place to be allowing the demons out to play; the worst possible moment to be dwelling on the past and second guessing decisions he’d made nearly seven years ago. And he hitches the bag further up onto his shoulder and rounds the bank of three elevators -iron gates as opposed to actual doors, now rotting and stuck in place- and heads for the south side of the fifth floor. Counting the steps in his head; remembering exactly how many paces it had been between where he’d entered through and the beginning of the hall.

The room is empty; paint peeling off the bare walls and not a single stitch of furniture left behind. But it’s exactly where he wants it; a perfect view of the entrance of a busy restaurant/bar belonging to number five on the list. A well known hang out for those in Mahajan’s circle; a place recognized for its live entertainment and world renowned chef and its abundance of top shelf liquor. He can hear the music and the crowd gathered inside from where his; pounding bass and muffled conversations and laughter. Too loud for anyone on the street to hear as he proceeds to break out glass in the window; long screwed shit, the bolts rusted permanently in place. And he unzips and shrugs out of the hoodie without removing the vest, hastily folding it and then using it to line the window ledge; protecting his forearms from minute shards of class and protruding nails and shedding paints. 

There’s a lone bouncer across the street; too busy flirting with a gaggle of pretty girls that want free entrance to notice what’s going on less than a hundred feet away. But once the first shot is taken, all attention will be diverted Tyler’s way, and it’s better not to give anyone a larger target to engage with. Staying low is the safest and best bet, and the rifle he’d chosen gives little to no flash back and will enable him to stay relatively hidden. And he kneels alongside of the window, out of sight as he pulls the separate pieces out of the rucksack; effortlessly and efficiently snapping them into place and then slipping a magazine into the well. He’s brought extra. Years of having jobs go to complete and utter shit long ago convincing him that it’s better to be over prepared than under; extra clips stored in the pockets on the front of his vest, both for the rifle and the Glock that sits in the holster on his right hip.

From one of the rear compartments he pulls out a bottle of anti anxiety meds; dumping six into his palm and then swallowing them dry. His hands aren’t as steady as he’d like them to bed; the two whiskys and three shots of tequila he’d taken before leaving have done little to settle his raw and jagged nerves. A sleepless night -and afternoon when he’d tried to get some rest- leaving him irritable and on edge. It’s all starting to catch up to him; the difficulty being away from his family, the seriousness of the threats made against them, the reality of his own vulnerability and the very real possibility he won’t walk away from Mumbai. It’s a lot to shoulder, and mixed with already existing mental health issues, constant physical pain, and the daily occurrence of horrific nightmares, it’s all becoming too much to handle. A year ago...two years ago...none of this would have been his issues. His confidence in his skills and abilities enough to get him through any job. And while it’s still there lingering under the surface, it’s threatening to be overshadowed by all the turmoil and suffering.

“You in?” Yaz’ voice pipes up through the receiver in his ears, and he taps a finger against the disk attached to the front of his vest.

“Yeah. I’m in.”

“Guy on the inside says things look like they’re starting to move already. Might want to be ready to go early. Just in case.”

“I’m already about two steps ahead of you.”

“Remember, don’t shoot the guy in the Florida State ball cap. He’s one of ours.”

“He gets in my way, I’m taking the shot. I don’t care who he belongs to.”

“What’s the lighting situation like?”

Tyler grimaces as he pushes himself up onto one knee, then peers out the window. “Streetlights are good. I’ve got a scope just in case, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“You see Nathan? He’s in one of the apartments above the club.”

“I don’t see shit, Yaz. As long as he’s there, I don’t give a fuck. Just tell him to watch my back.” 

No sooner do the words leave his mouth, he catches glimpse of the beam from a flashlight in the building across the street. Once. Twice. Nathan letting him know his exact location. That had been the compromise he’d agreed to; a backup without having someone breathing down his neck.

He finds a discarded sheet of cardboard in the corner and folds it into fours. It’s still rough and ridged, but has more give then the old wooden floors and will give him something for his bad knee to rest on. Even the protective gear already strapped around his leg does little to relieve even the slightest amount of pressure put on it, and he knows that’s a sign that things have gone far beyond a simple fix. Whether it be complications from the replacement finally catching up to him or another injury all together, he knows there’s time in the OR in his near future. 

“Things are starting to move,” Yaz says. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.” Tyler picks a spot near the right side of the window; the slight diagonal angle gives him a better view of the front entrance and guaranteeing a kill shot to the side of the head as opposed to the front. He’s seen people dropped by those kinds of hits, only to survive and need a second bullet to finish the job. It needs to be quick and efficient; four victims, four bullets. There’s no time to waste, and if Mahajan’s people ARE that good, within thirty seconds of his first kill they’ll figure out his position. And it will seem like a ten mile hike back to where he’d come in if he has guys on his ass, gunning for him.

Outside the street lights flicker. Once. Twice. Followed by a brief pause before the flashing becomes more persistent.

“Rake, are you seeing this shit?” Nathan inquires through the earpiece.

“I’m seeing it.” 

“Some kind of power surge? Wonder if it’s going to go off the grid.”

The flickering continues, and he pushes himself up onto one knee and looks out the windows. First to the left, then to the right. “Only two lights doing it are the one right in front of us. What’s going on, Yaz? You guys fucking with the lights?”

“Nothing on our end. Probably just malfunctioning. As long as you can still see, we’re good to go.”

Tyler uses a forearm to wipe sweat from his forehead, then briefly lays the rifle across his thigh and runs his clammy palms against his cargo pants.

“Hotter than Satan’s nut sack out here.” Nathan remarks, and he can’t help but chuckle in response. A sound that echoes in the empty room and then is quickly replaced by a string of profanities when the streetlights flicker three more times before going out completely.

“Fuck me,” Tyler growls. “What the fuck, Yaz? We have no light now. What the hell is going on? What are you guys doing? One of you dumb asses flick the wrong switch?”

“It isn’t us. We’re going to get into the system and see what’s up. Hang tight.”

Sighing, Tyler sets the rifle down beside him and reaches for the rucksack; fingers brushing against the fabric when he hears the creak of a loose floorboard behind him and sees the faint shadow cast upon the walls. His chest tightens; blood running cold despite the stifling temperature of the room. It all happens so fast; hand reaching for the gun on his hip, only to have a solid punch land in the middle of his shoulder blade. It sends intense, crippling pain rocketing down to his fingers; muscles immediately contracting and tightening and locking up, rendering his right arm useless. A hand wraps around his throat, fingers digging into flesh and muscle; grip shockingly strong and threatening to cut off his airway. He drops to the floor, pressing his heels into the battered and weathered wood. Using the strength and the power of his legs to push both himself and his assailant backwards; soles of his boots desperately looking for whatever friction it can. And he drops his chin towards his chest; sinking his teeth into the hand that’s around his throat, biting down into the space between the thumb and forefinger.

His attacker screams in pain and the grip loosens, allowing Tyler to finally draw air into his air starved lungs. Still gasping for breath and his legs still pushing his body backwards, until his movement is stilled by the wall and he’s able to use it to his advantage; pushing through his heels in order to get himself up onto his feet and then directing his left elbow into the large -yet not as strong or agile- man’s ribs. Hearing the cry of pain and the distinct cracking of bone. He attempts to turn; reaching for the gun on his right hip with his left hand, only to have a boot slam into the back of his right knee. It causes the leg to collapse underneath him, and the surge of pain both temporarily blinds him AND takes his breath away. And he’s suddenly aware of the the press of his stomach against the floor; trying to push himself towards the discarded rifle, only to have his movements made futile when his assailant’s heavy body comes down on top of his and a knee is pressed into each of his biceps in an effort to keep him still. The man above mumbling threats and profanities in Hindi when he refuses to give up. Attempting to use his left knee and arm to drag himself across the floor; the entire right side of his body numb and useless.

Through the ear piece he can hear Yaz attempting to reach him, and outside there’s the distinct sound of four separate gunshots as Nathan handles the situation out on the street. Tyler’s fight instinct refuses to let up; there’s too much to lose, five little kids that need him, a family that loves him, a long and happy future with the love of his life. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.

This ISN’T how it will end.

He’s able to push himself up onto his left knee in attempts to small the back of his skull against his attacker’s throat, only to have a hand grab a fistful of his hair and forcefully yank his head back. The other man wears a simple black ski mask, but his eyes are visible in the moonlight; dark and full of rage and determination. And enjoyment.

“Chhod do!” The assailant snarls. “Chhod do!”

Give up.

“Fuck you,” Tyler snarls. 

The chuckle brought on by his defiance is just as evil as the eyes staring down at him. And the knees press deeper and harder into his biceps; quickly cutting off the circulation in his arms, and he tries once again to slam his head back in hopes of connecting with something...anything. Only to have the fist tighten its grip on his hair.

“Chhod do!”

He shakes his head and uses both knees to slide himself forward; flat on his stomach, arms rendered useless, toes of his boots pressing into the floor to give him a better push off. The body above is heavier, but the reflexes not as quick and the instincts not as sharp. And he’s able to move himself far enough that his fingers skim the barrel of the rifle. 

A punch to the side of the throat has him both choking for air and collapsing onto the floor. Hand still reaching for the weapon despite the knee pressed into his arm. There’s no other option. If he keeps fighting, there’s a chance he’ll walk out of the room. If he gives up, no one will ever find his body. If there’s even any piece of it TO find. 

The hand abandons his hair and wraps around his throat once more; two fingers pressing and digging into the side of his neck. Intentionally targeting the thick, still raised scar left behind from Dhaka. The agony that shoots through his body is intense, and he’s unable to stop himself from letting out a strangled, choked cry of pain; his entire body locking up and his toes curling within his boots. And the fingers press even deeper into that surgically repaired vein; the one that had been all but shredded and decimated by Farhad’s bullet. And he’s unsure if that spot being targeted or the other fingers firmly wrapped around his throat is what causes his vision to blur and the room starts to spin.

“Cchod do!”

“No,” Tyler manages. “Never. Fuck you. Kabhee naheen.”

He tries to himself up onto both knees but fails; the assailant’s still attempting to keep his arms pinned down, and he struggles to draw breath into his lungs; throat slowly collapsing and his brain swimming. Out of the corner of his eye he sees it; the tip of a hypodermic needle glistening in the moonlight. And the brief glimmer of fear, the realization that this could very well be the end, give his body one last burst of energy. Forcing himself up onto his knees and managing to bring his head forward and then slam it backwards; successfully shattering his attacker’s nose and knocking out his front teeth. It does little to stop the man from his quest; a forearm wrapping around Tyler’s neck. And he feels the initial pinch of the needle being pushed into his skin; a pained groan and a litany of profanities tumbling from his lips when it's brutally jammed into his neck. Eyes briefly squeezing shut and his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he feels the cold, almost painful burning of the unknown liquid entering his blood stream.

“Motherfucker!” Tyler roars, and sinks his teeth into the forearm wrapped around his throat; deep enough to break the skin. His attacker’s scream echoing through the room; the bitter taste of blood on his lips and tongue. It’s enough to get free, and he flips onto his back and reaches across his body with his hand to yank the gun from its holster; flicking off the safety and then pressing the barrel to the underside of the other man’s chin. Pulling the trigger just as two hands reach for his throat.

****

When he finally comes to, it’s with a violent gasp of breath and his eyes snapping open. The room is spinning; lights from the street and the shadows of passing cars dancing on smooth walls. The space is empty and bare yet colors and objects swirl around him; his brain attempting to make sense of what he’s seeing, what he’s hearing, where he is. There’s a metallic taste coating his tongue and a burning in the roof of his mouth and in the back of his throat, and he feels numb; a cool, tingling sensation that he feels from the roots of his hair to the very tips of his toes. He can hear voices...sounds...muffled and garbled as if he’s listening to them underwater. Honking horns and police sirens and people yelling out on the street. Someone saying his name through the piece of silicone in his ear. Confused and muddled mind desperately trying to make sense of what is being said; something about the cops swarming and Nathan taking off and being AWOL and someone coming to help and to just hang in there. Don’t move.

So many questions. Where the hell is he? Why is he here? Why are there cops around? Who the fuck is Nathan? 

Tyler knows he should have the answers. That he DOES have them. That if his head would just stop swimming and the room would stop spinning, and the lights on the walls would stop flickering and flashing, he would be able to make sense of what’s going on around him. He opens his mouth to speak; snapping his jaw shut when he realizes he can’t. That it feels as if his throat, lips, and tongue are frozen. That while his brain is able to come up with SOME words, they disappear before they actually reach his mouth. 

It isn’t until he attempts to sit up that panic sets in; his body feeling as if it’s glued to the floor; head and limbs impossibly heavy and refusing to budge from their resting place. His heart thunders in his chest and the blood rushes through his ears; lungs and throat both tightening and aching. And he tries desperately to get his arms and his legs to move; groaning and growling in frustration, tears of both fear and confusing trickling down his face.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Forcing himself to inhale deeply and exhale slowly. Waiting several minutes until his breathing has slowed and calmed before trying again, Jamming his shoulder into the sternum of the body that lays on top of him; not knowing who it is or how the hell they got there and wondering if they’re alive or dead. After he shoves them over onto the floor, he manages to roll over onto his side, groggy and dizzy as he pushes himself up onto his elbow; eyes rapidly blinking in a vain attempt to bring the room into focus. Everything is blurry; colour muted. Sounds are becoming clearer and his body is beginning to regain small, slow movements, but his brain still struggles to piece everything together. He’s vaguely aware of a stabbing pain in the side of his neck, and with a shaky hand and fingers, he reaches up and yanks at the offending object. Eyes widening when his mind processes just WHAT he’d been stabbed with.

“What the fuck?” His words are slurred. Speech slow and measured. And he tosses the needle aside and attempts to push himself up into a sit; nearly collapsing backwards. Instead he props himself up onto his elbow once again and uses it and both feet to push and drag himself across the dirty floor. Until his back is pressed against the wall and he’s able to reach up and grab a hold of the window sill.

Tyler struggles to his feet; having to lean against the window ledge in order to catch his breath. Even that small bit of movement makes him feel tired. All he wants to do is sleep; lie down and curl up in a ball and stay there for days. But he has to move. Somehow...despite the dense fog cluttering his brain and his confusion regarding just where he is and what the hell happened...knowing that he can’t stay there. 

He initially stumbles when he tries to simply put one foot in front of the other, then presses his back against the wall and uses it as a guide as he makes his way towards the door. Vision blurry and his heath both pounding AND spinning as he gingerly makes his way around the room. Each step taking him closer to the exit and his freedom.

The hallway is harder to navigate with no light coming in from the outside, and he tries to force his hazy eyes to focus in the dark. Legs seeming as if they’re made of concrete when he tries to pick his feet up to step over the gaps left by missing boards. There HAS to be stairs. Didn’t he come up a flight of stairs? Or was that outside? He can remember the sound of metal under the soles of his boots and the slight sway and shudder of the narrow stairs under his broad, heavy frame. 

Where am I? Why the fuck am I even here?

And where the hell is the exit?”

Tyler pauses. Suddenly aware that he’s back at the exact same spot he started at. Did he ever even move? He’d thought he was walking. Fairly certain that he’d actually been taking steps and not imagining them.

Confusion and panic set in once again. This time partnered with anger. And he manages to shout a string of profanities into the darkened building and puts a fist through of the decaying walls.

“Alright...easy...easy…”

He recognizes the voice that comes from behind him, and the hand that’s placed on his shoulder is both firm and comforting. And it’s not until he turns around to face them that he realizes he’s in the midst of a panic attack. That he’s making choked, gulping sounds as he lungs try to draw in air and that there’s tears streaming down his face; his entire body drawn incredibly tight and close to seizing.

“You’re alright, mate,” Koen says. “You’re okay. Breathe. Just breathe, son.”

Anil is there as well, a flashlight in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. And Tyler doesn’t protest when the latter is pressed against his lips and the ice cold liquid is poured into his mouth and down his throat; some trickling down his chin and landing on the front of his blood and sweat soaked vest.

Whose blood is it? His? The person who’d been lying on top of him? He begins frantically patting himself down, looking for any sign of injury.

“Can you hear me?” Koen grabs him by the face. “Tyler! Can you hear me?!”

Still no words will come. He nods instead.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Another nod.

“What happened?”

He shrugs. 

“He’s pretty fucked up,” Koen says to Anil, who returns from a brief inspection of the room; rucksack over his shoulder, needle in his hand. “Like he’s in shock or something.”

“Did they give you this?” Anil inquires, holding aloft the needle. “That guy in there…” he jerks his head towards the room. “...did he give you this?”

Tyler nods, then places a shaky hand against his neck.

“He’s not in shock,” Anil says. “He’s doped up, Whatever they gave him? Whatever this is?” He nods down at the needle, then slips it into his pocket. “That’s what did this.”

“What do you think it is?” Koen asks.

“Could be anything. Could be something illegal like heroin or meth. Could be something like propofol or ketamine. I have people who can check it out. There’s someone dead in there. He attacked you?” Anil addresses Tyler. “Hey!” He aggressively smacks the back of his hand against Tyler’s cheek. “The man in there. He attacked you?”

Tyler shrugs.

“He doesn’t remember shit,” Koen grumbles. “Now what?”

“We get him out of here. Before the cops search here too. Can you walk on your own? Do you need us to help?”

Tyler’s eyes briefly close. He sways uneasily on his feet. Then turns and vomits on the floor.

“I think he needs our help,” Koen says,

****

Two hours later he finds himself fairly lucid; standing in the shower with near scalding water pounding down on his naked body. The agony is relentless; starting at the roots of her hair and settling in the tips of his toes. Injuries already obvious; lines of deep bruises beginning to form on every possible inch of his throat, upper arms and along the small of his back, the pain in his shoulder only subsiding when his arm is motionless and laid across his chest, bloody, open wounds where hair had been yanked from his scalp. In the coming days everything will be more prominent; horrendous shades of purple and black, various swellings that will be painful under even the softest of touch. But for now he enjoys the relief the hot water provides his body with; eyes closed and chin tucked into his chest, palms flat against the tiles in order to keep himself on his feet. Some of the dizziness remains, but the events of the evening are slowly becoming clearer. He’s finally able to remember not only where he was and why he’d been there, but how he’d ended up in the fight of his life; passing out and regaining consciousness with a dead body lying on top of him. 

Whatever had been in the needle had hit him hard and fast; far stronger than any pain med or recreational drug that he’d ever tried. Anil would find out what it was; friends in high places able to do tests on the syringe to tell them exactly what he’d been injected with and how to deal with the side effects caused by whatever remained in his system. The immediate plan is to rest and hydrate; get as much liquid into him as possible to flush his system and clean out whatever toxin is still lingering. 

His eyes snap open at the sound of the shower curtain rustling, and he smirks at the sigh of Koen’s hand appearing at the edge of the plastic. A bottle of Gatorade in his possession. 

“You alive in there, mate?”

“I’m alive,” Tyler confirms. 

“Drink up,” Koen orders. “Gotta try and clean that shit out of you.”

He takes the drink that’s offered, downing the entire bottle in record time.

“You need anything?” Koen asks.

“I’m good.”

“You feeling dizzy? Like you’re gonna pass out? Can you hear me okay?”

“I’m answering, aren’t I? And no; I’m not going to pass out. I feel alright. Hungry though for some reason.”

‘Cause you just spent the last hour throwing up. Got nothing left in the tank. I’ll order you something. What do you want? What do you feel like?”

“Anything. I don’t care.”

“I’m on it. Towel and a pair of sweats are on the toilet. You need anything, you holler.”

“I’m not going to ask you to scrub my back or hold my cock when I take a piss, so you don’t get your hopes up.”

“You don’t mind if I peek though, do you?” Koen teases, and looks around the edge of the curtain. 

Tyler scowls. “Fuck off, you drongo. What’s wrong with you?”

“NOW I see why she stays with you. Looking like that before things even get to half mast? I don’t blame the girl for not leaving you. Where else is she going to find something like THAT?”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Tyler snarls, and yanks the curtain closed.

“Don’t be shy, blue eyes. Who do you think got you into the shower? Who do you think had to undress you and haul your ass in there? Nothing I haven’t seen before. I am jealous as fuck, though.”

“We can’t all be big boys, Koen. I’m sure you have a lovely personality the ladies just love.”

“Have we met?” Koen scoffs, then chuckles as he walks out of the bathroom.

It takes Tyler half an hour just to dry himself off. The dizziness returning every couple of minutes and forcing him to sit down on the edge of the tub in order to get himself together. The anxiety is still there; heightened by the realization of just how fucking close he’d come. Not to death. It had been quite that it wasn’t his demise that his assailant had been after. He was meant to be a trophy. A plaything, even. The drugs had been to render him incapable of fighting back; make him as vulnerable and weak as possible. More than likely there’d been a team of guys waiting to help transport him outside of city limits, where Mahajan’s people would get off on torturing him. Days. Weeks. Hell, even months. Until he was begging them to kill him. And he doesn’t want to think about that. Not just about what he would have been subjected to, but the fact that he would have never, ever, seen his family again. Mahajan never would have let him escape, nor would he have shown mercy and just let him go once he felt the lesson had been adequately taught. Each day the torture would have become worse and worse, until he had no quality of life and death was the only merciful ending. 

His hands are shaking again; head swimming as he pulls on the gray sweats that Koen had left out for him. He needs meds. Maybe a drink. Definitely something to eat and a few hours sleep.

“Look at you,” Koen gives a playful whistle when he emerges from the bathroom. “All clean and smelling good. Look at that hair. Look at how fluffy it is when it’s all clean and shit. Look how cute you are.”

His pace is still slow and measured; a side effect from whatever he’d been given and the agony in his knee. And he gives a wince and pained groan as he collapses onto his bed. “If you’re trying to flirt with me, save your breath. You’re not very good at it.”

“You should call your wife,” Koen says, then tosses Tyler his cell phone.

“It’s one thirty in the morning.”

“You got about fifteen calls from her and about as many text messages. You were supposed to call when things got handled, yeah? Well it’s been three hours and she hasn’t heard from you. Poor thing’s probably scared shitless.”

“What if she’s asleep?”

“You really think she’s going to sleep if she hasn’t from you? Call her.” Koen climbs off his own bed, grabbing a bottle of beer from the nightstand. “Don’t worry, lover boy. I’ll give you your privacy.”

He picks the phone up from the mattress as Koen steps out onto the balcony and slides the door shut behind him. And he frowns at how shaky his hands are; wondering it’s from the drugs he’d been given or if it’s his bad nerves. Or a mixture of both. And he hopes he can keep it together while he speaks to her; that he sounds lucid enough that there’s nothing in his voice that gives away just how fucked up he actually is. She doesn’t need to know what went down. Not only will it add even more stress and worry to her already overflowing plate, but she’ll only want to come and stay with him. She’d FIND a way to make it happen. And while he desperately wants and needs to see her, their kids need her more. 

“Are you okay?” Esme answers on the third ring, and he can hear Addie’s shrill, kitten like cry. “Oh my god Tyler, where have you been? I’ve been worried fucking sick!”

“What’s wrong with the baby?”

“Nothing. She just woke up for something to eat. She’ll be fine in a second. Are you alright? I’ve been trying to call you. Text you. You haven’t returned anything. What’s going on?”

“Things went a little sideways,” he admits, and the baby finally quiets down, comforted now that she’s at the breast.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Things went a bit to shit. Nothing too serious. Guy jumped me while I was getting ready to do the job."

“Jumped you? What…?”

“I’m fine. A little banged up. Nothing serious. Some cuts, a couple bruises. I would have called earlier but when the shooting started, the cops showed up and we had to lie low for a while. I just got back to the hotel.”

“But you’re okay? Please tell me you’re okay.” She sounds dangerously close to tears.

“I’m fine,” Tyler assures her. “A little sore. Nothing some sleep and some meds won’t take care of. Are YOU okay?”

“I am now. Now that I know you’re alright. That I know you’re alive. You scared the shit out of me. You called earlier but you didn’t say anything. All I could hear was you breathing and it sounded like you were trying to say something but I couldn’t make it out.”

Shit, he silently curses. He doesn’t remember that. At all. But somewhere in between shooting his assailant and passing out, he must have attempted...for some reason...to get a hold of her. Was it a call for help? Was it because he was scared he was dying and thought that was his last chance to tell her he loved her? Did he phone her because he wanted her voice to be the last thing he heard? Fuck. It’s all a goddamn mystery. As if it never even happened.

“Tyler?”

“What time did I call at?” he asks.

“Quarter after eleven. Eleven thirty. Something like that. You don’t remember calling?”

“I must have pocket dialed you by accident,” he lies. “Things hadn’t gone to shit yet. Must have hit something by mistake. Sorry, baby. I didn't mean to call. I didn’t mean to wake any of the kids up.”

“This place is so big, there’s no way they heard my phone from their rooms.”

“Are they okay?”

“They had a busy day. Lots of time in the pool, tons of time playing outside. They got to try new food and they were taught how to make naan bread and some kind of dessert I can’t pronounce. Millie’s over the moon because she got to hold a sloth. She even let it crawl all over her. That kid has no fear, whatsoever. She’ll try anything once.”

“And Tanner? He any better?”

“Talking to you did him a lot of good. He’s lightened up a bit. I think he’s finally grasping the fact that he’s NOT getting a new dad. I don’t even know what made him think that in the first place. Like I’d ever trade you in.”

“Not even for Anil and his hundreds of millions?”

“Not for anyone. I like having you around. I kind of have a crush on you.”

Tyler grins. “I kind of have a crush on you, too.”

“We’re okay. It’ll get a little better each day. And Tanner’s in with TJ now. All cuddled up together in one bed. They’re definitely not ready to be apart from one another for very long. I hope it stays like that. I hope they’re still best friends when they're older. That they don’t start fighting over the same girls.”

“Bros before hoes, right?”

Esme laughs at that, “Right. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little...I don’t know...weird. Have you been drinking?”

“Not recently.”

“You sound like you have. You’re slurring your words a bit.”

“Just tired. It’s been a long day and I’m pretty beat. Gonna have something to eat and get some sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I didn’t mean to worry you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says. “Maybe I can sleep now. I’d sleep a lot better if you were here. Even with your snoring and your cold feet. Is it weird I miss those things?”

“Is it weird I miss you talking in your sleep and hogging all the blankets?”

“I think it’s sweet. And cute. You’re sweet and cute.”

He grins. “You’re delirious from lack of sleep.”

“You ARE cute and sweet. And I miss you. I miss everything about you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “I miss you too, baby. You get some sleep, okay? Give little peanut a hug and kiss from daddy.”

“I will. I love you, Tyler.”

“I love you too, Esme. So much. I’ll call you when I get up.”

“Okay,” she says with a yawn. “Sleep well. Or try to, at least. See you when I see you.”

“That’s MY line.”

“Not tonight it isn’t,” she says with a sleepy giggle, and then disconnects the call.

Sighing heavily, he drops the phone onto the mattress and runs his hands over his face as he leans back against the headboard. Eyes closed, a forearm across his brow. Unable to hold back the flood of tears that stream down his face or the heavy, painful sobs that wrack his entire body.


	62. Chapter 62

She stands on the patio area; where terracotta and highly polished stone and faux games of various colours -laid out in intricate patterns- meet rich, luscious green grass. A fussy and cranky Addie lying along on arm and a hand over her eyes; shielding them from the bright, powerful sun as she watches TJ and Millie -supervised by their uncle- entertain themselves on the elaborate wooden playground. Their exuberant and lively conversation floats on the breeze, accompanied by their giggles and occasional bickering; Millie successfully teaching Saju how to climb the stairs to the slide and slip down it. Less than a hundred feet avail one of the handful of nannies -Diya, an elderly woman who had helped raised both Anil and Saju and speaks both Hindi and Bengali but very little English- keeps a firm on hold on the back of Declan’s shirt as he crouches dangerously low to one of the many ponds; attempting to get a better look at turtles and frogs. 

The three of them are settling in well; random tearful moments of missing home and school and their daddy, yet making the best of the situation. Always finding something to do to keep themselves busy and always managing to laugh and smile despite the tremendous changes to their young lives. TJ and Millie are especially adept at accepting new challenges; never struggling with transitions or upsets to their daily routines, simply taking things as they come and ‘rolling with the punches’. Rarely paying attention to the heavily armed guards that continuously patrol the perimeter and line the roof of the house. Their nerves don’t seem frazzled by the open display of weapons; never asking questions regarding just who these men are and why they’re always watching them. 

Tanner is an entirely different story. He’s always struggled with change; becoming incredibly anxious with even the slightest tweak to his usual routine. Seeking comfort in familiar surroundings and finding it in sights, smells, and sounds. Needing advanced warnings before switching from one activity to the other; a sudden, abrupt change enough to bring on frayed nerves, irritable behaviour, stomach issues, and even tears. He’s easily overwhelmed by new and unfamiliar situations and is easily annoyed by crowds of people and too much noise or activity going on around him. He loves his version of normalcy; the same faces and voices surrounding him, the comforts of home with his own belongings and the sound and the smell of the ocean. And while he loves his siblings and shares an enormous, powerful bond with his twin brother and doesn’t shy away from playing with the others or sharing in adventures, he’s happiest when left alone; comfortable and content doing the things he loves. 

It would be easy to force him to be more like brother and sister. To just throw him into sports as opposed to always having his nose stuck in books or engrossed in school work. To be more ‘kid like’ and pursue being a social butterfly instead of secluding himself. And while they encourage him to at least try and broaden his horizons and to experience new things and attempt to join in the fun that his siblings are having, they refuse to push him out of his comfort zone. Both had had parents that weren’t happy with how they acted or behaved and had been forced into becoming entirely different versions of themselves. Made to ‘fit in’ by society’s standards instead of being encouraged to be who they were meant to be. And they adamantly refuse to do that to their own children; knowing too well the kind of temporary anguish and long term negative effects that are inflicted when you’re forced to be something and someone you’re not.

He lounges under one of the many trees that form a border around the yard. Using a dozing and complacent Mac as support for his back; bare feet dug into the grass and his knees bent, impossibly thick and heavy hardcover novel resting on his thighs. Those wayward locks of hair falling across his forehead; brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration. A facial expression identical to one she's seen many times in the course of nearly seven years. 

Satisfied with the level of safety and security being provided to her other children, Esme moves a whimpering and grumpy Addie to her chest -a hand on the back of her head when the baby immediately nestles her face into her shoulder- and journeys over to where Tanner sits.

“What are you doing, nugget?” she inquires. “You look pretty comfy.”

“Just relaxing,” he replies without looking up. “Reading some.”

“You don’t want to go play with your brother and sister? Maybe go swimming? Or go and see the animals?” She often wonders if he’s lonely during his frequent moments of solitude. Unable to stop herself from worrying that he is. That he’s somehow missing out on his childhood even though he’s always expressed just how happy he is doing what he loves, not what others expect him to do.

“No, I’m happy where I am,” Tanner says. “Mac’s keeping me company. Besides. I’m kinda tired today. I did lots yesterday. And the day before. I just want to hang out.”

It’s easy to forget that he’s only five. So well spoken for someone so young; words always coming so easily to him and his tone always low and calm and his face and eyes so serious. Phenomenally intelligent and intuitive. And sensitive to a fault; always worrying about things that are way behind his years. Like his father in so many ways; allowing very few people to get close to him but fiercely protective of those who ‘make the cut’. Loving so deeply and so profoundly. Traits that his father successfully manages to hide from just about everyone, but Tanner is so open and honest about.

“What are you reading?” Esme asks, as she sinks down onto the grass beside him, stretching out her legs and laying Addie along her thighs.

“Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You’re reading a Harry Potter book?”

Tanner nods.

“You’re five.”

He shrugs.

“Where did you find that?”

“When I was talking to Anil yesterday, I told him that I really like to read. But not little kid books. Older kid books but not too much older. When I woke up this morning, there was a box of books by the bed, with my name written on it. Anil got them for me. All of the Harry Potters. I picked this one ‘cause I like the picture on the front.”

“And you can actually read and understand it?”

“Mom, I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid. In fact, you’re insanely smart. Almost too smart. But you’re also only five, nugget. A five year old being able to read that well?”

“You and daddy always read to me, even when I was a baby. I remember how you guys always made me repeat words, even when I was small. They’re in my brain and I recognize them when I see them and remember them. That’s how my brain works. I know what things say and I know what they mean. Is that weird?”

“Not weird. Just...I don’t know...just...wow.”

“Daddy said next time we’re in town, I can get The Hobbit. And then maybe Lord of the Rings for my birthday.”

“Can you read me some of Harry Potter?”

Tanner frowns. “You think I’m lying? I’m not making it up. I CAN read it.”

“Just humour me. Pick a random page and read me a bit of it, okay?”

“Alright…” he huffs dramatically, then grabs a leaf off the grass to use a bookmark before flipping to a different place in the book. “Now? Start now?”

Esme nods. “Just pick something. Anything”

“Okay…” one of his fingers rests on the page, the tip slowly following each word. “...it is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something and would give anything to slow down time, it has a ….” he pauses, frowning up at her. “I don’t know how to pronounce that word.”

She peers down at. “Disobliging.”

“...it has a disobliging habit of speeding up.”

Esme’s eyes widen.

“What? What’s wrong, mom? What did I do? Was that wrong?”

“No. It was right. Every word of it. I just...I don’t know...I think maybe daddy and I need to talk about sending you to a different school.”

“One for smart kids? ‘Cause no offence to any of the other kids, but they’re all stupid. I know how to read words like ‘cat’ and ‘dog’ and ‘ball’ and I can write sentences with those words in it. With my eyes closed! I know my full name, my address, my phone number. I even know daddy’s full name and his cell number and when he was born; day, date, and year. I even know how to tie my own shoes. A lot of those kids don’t do that stuff. Not even TJ knows how. Why can’t I be in a bigger kid class? Where the work is harder?”

“I don’t know if that’s allowed.”

“What? The school doesn’t like smart kids or something? It’s so boring there. I could stay home and you and daddy can teach me. You guys are both smart. You went to college.”

“I don’t think either of us can give you what you really need,” she admits. “Learning wise. But we’ll talk about; daddy and I. Okay?”

Tanner nods, then flips back to the page he’d been engrossed in when she’d interrupted him. “Hermione’s my favourite,” he says. “I read it for her mostly. I don’t care much for Ron or Harry. I think they’re whiners. Who’s your favourite?”

“I don’t have one. I’ve never read them.”

“What?” He looks mortified at the mere suggestion. “You’re how old and you’ve never read Harry Potter? That’s shameful mom. Maybe daddy’s read them.”

“I highly doubt your dad has read Harry Potter. He’s not really into that kind of stuff.”

“Daddy’s into cool guy stuff. Like UFC and football and beating people up.”

“Well he doesn’t necessarily LIKE beating them up. Sometimes he doesn’t have a choice.”

“He kills people sometimes too.”

Esme nods. “Sometimes.”

“Is he going to hell for doing it?” Tanner inquires. “For killing people? Isn’t killing people bad?”

“Most of the time it is.”

“But they deserve it, yeah? The people daddy kills? They deserve it?”

“Why are you talking about this? You’re five.”

“I’m not a dumb little kid. I know what daddy does; I know what his job is. I do hear people talking, you know. I know he gets paid to hurt people. I know he gets money to kill them. I know he’s a mercenary.”

Esme scowls. “How do you even know that word?”

“I hear things. And they stay in my brain. I don’t care, that's what he does. It’s just his job, it’s not who he is. He’s daddy. That’s all that matters. That when he’s with me, he’s just my dad. He only hurts bad people. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“That’s the last thing he’d ever do. Hurt you.”

“I know. And I know he won’t let anyone else hurt me either. I feel safe when I’m with him. Because he’s big and strong and I know he’d protect me no matter what. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.”

“No. He definitely wouldn’t.”

Tanner sighs heavily. “I really hope he’s not dead.”

“What? Why would you even say that?”

“He hasn’t called in two days. Daddy always calls. ALWAYS. Right before bed. But two days and no calls. What if the bad guys got him?” He draws in a shaky breath as tears well in his eyes. “What if he’s dead and I never get to see him again?”

“Your dad is NOT dead.”

“What if he’s gone and I never get to hug him or his voice again? Or I never get to apologize for all the times I was bad and made him angry.”

“Tanner...oh my goodness…nugget…” she reaches out to brush his hair from his eyes. “Tanner...what in the world goes on in that head of yours, baby boy?”

“I don’t mean to be bad. I don’t mean to make daddy mad. I don’t mean to make him yell sometimes. I don’t mean to make him hate me.”

“Okay, first of all…” shes gives an appreciative smile to one of the other caregivers that rushes over when she sees Tanner in distress; taking Addie and giving Esme the freedom to scoop the now sobbing five year old into her arms. Cuddling him as she would a baby; across her body with one arm under the back of her legs, the other around his shoulders. “...daddy could never...EVER...hate you. He loves you. More than anything else in the world. He always has and he always will. Just because he gets mad and yells, doesn’t mean he hates you. And how often does he actually get mad and yell?”

“Not much.”

“It takes A LOT to get daddy THAT mad. And even if he does get angry, he still loves you. And it’s really not you he’s upset with. He’s just frustrated more than anything. And sometimes, that frustration isn’t even about you. It’s about him. He’s frustrated with himself. Because he struggles and it makes him sad and angry with himself and unfortunately, it gets taken out on your guys. Or me. Do you remember what I told you? About daddy’s brain?”

Tanner nods. “That it hurts. That it’s sad and in pain.”

“Well he’s working very hard at making his brain better. And the doctor is helping him and I’m helping him. And so are you guys. Because it’s you and your brothers and your sisters that make him the happiest.”

“Can’t he take some medicine to get better?”

“It’s not that easy. But he IS working on it. He works on it every day. And he’s tough and he’s strong but sometimes he needs help. He needs us to help him. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The five year old nods.

“Daddy always loves you. He could never hate you. He helped make you. You’re part of him. You’re part of his new life; his second chance. There is no way he could ever hate you. Could you ever hate him?”

“Never,” he sniffles. “I love him too much.”

“Well that’s how he feels about you. And no. He’s not dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I would know. Trust me. He’s just busy, nugget. He’s got a lot going on. A lot on his mind and a lot to do.”

“He’s too busy to call us?”

“Sometimes he has to go places where he can’t use his phone. Where it’s not safe to call. But he will when he can. But he’s not dead. I promise.”

“I hope you’re right, mommy. ‘Cause I’d miss him. So much. I’d miss his face and his voice and smile and the way he tucks me in. And the way he always teases me about being so short. I get mad when other people do it, but not when daddy does it. It’s funny when daddy does it.”

“Well he makes fun of me for being short, too. I always tell him he's just ridiculously tall and has ridiculously big feet.”

“He DOES have really big feet,” Tanner declares, then giggles. “And his hand is bigger than my whole head, I swear. I bet he could kill someone with one punch. Do you think he could? Do you think he could break the guy at the grocery store in half?”

“What?” Esme laughs. “What guy at the grocery store?”

“The one that touched your bum. That guy with the weird hair and the Mustang. Do you think daddy could break him in half?”

“Well maybe not literally. But he could definitely hurt him pretty bad.”

“Could he kill him?”

“What is this obsession with your dad killing people?”

“I’m just curious. I wanna know how he killed someone with a garden rake. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” she says, as she combs her fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t there. I just know he did it. I don’t need the details.”

“And it was two people, yeah? How? I don’t understand it. I’ll have to ask him.”

Esme laughs. “You can ask, but I don’t he’s going to tell you.”

“Because you’ll tell him NOT to tell me.”

“Exactly. You need to know the details. Not with that kind of stuff.” She presses a series of kisses to his forehead, then his tears away with gentle fingertips. “Want some lunch?”

“I could eat. Can we have normal food? Like our normal? I miss our stuff.”

“I’ll see what’s in the kitchen and we’ll go from there.”

“Can I help? I wanna help. Remember when I used to always help you when it was just me, you, Millie and TJ? When daddy didn’t live with us for a bit? I was little but I still helped.”

“You were a big help,” she praises. “You used to love to fold laundry.”

“And you used to wrap me in the warm towels from the dryer. I liked when you did that. And I used to bring you tissues when you were sad and you would cry. Do you remember that?”

“I do,” she presses a kiss to his cheek. “You were like a knight in shining armour.”

“I slept with you all the time when you were lonely. Because you missed daddy even if you were really mad at him and didn’t want him around.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want him around. I just…”

“I know why he wasn’t there. Why he had to leave. It’s okay, mommy. I don’t blame you. Daddy wasn’t daddy. And it made me sad. I didn’t like him very much. He was really mean. He yelled a lot. Especially at you. I didn’t like it. I wanted to punch him in the face.”

“My little protector.” She kisses his cheek once more, then tousles his hair. “You know too much for someone so small.”

He pouts. “I’m not small.”

“Yes, you are.” She nuzzles the tip of her nose against his temple. “And you always will be to me.”

***

It’s shortly before one in the afternoon when Tyler arrives; stepping out of the chauffeured car provided by Anil. Eyes surveying the enormous white stucco ‘Spanish hacienda’ inspired home; immaculately kept lawns and gardens and an elaborate marble and gold fountain in the middle of the circular interlocking brick driveway. By normal standards, Mahajan’s had been lavish and large; sleek and modern, sparsely furnished and feeling cold and empty. Anil’s is unlike anything he’s ever seen; the gigantic home somehow welcoming with its turquoise colored front door and matching shutters on every window. The grounds are equally sprawling; everything well maintained and expertly manicured; gardens bursting with various types of flowers in a wide variety of colors. Not the kind of place that you’d expect someone ex military to reside in. Hell, even his own home is far beyond anything he could have ever dreamt about or hoped for. The five million from the IRA making it possible to afford a place like that, and with Anil’s generous initial offer and the constant flow of money going into the bank, he won’t ever have to worry about living expenses ever again. No more lying awake at night wondering how the hell he was going to pay a mortgage and all the bills, never mind how he’d put clothes on his kids’ backs and food in their bellies.

He shrugs a simple black backpack onto his left shoulder, the simple movement causing him to wince to when the fabric of his shirt presses and rubs against his upper arms. The injuries are noticeable now, and far worse than he’d expected them to be; the knees that had pressed into his biceps leaving purple and black bruises that he can feel right down to the bone. In a futile attempt to spare his kids the sight of the worst of the damage, he’d worn a long sleeve shirt to hide the marks, only to find that even the softest and smoothest of fabrics and the smallest of touches irritate his arms. His right is in a sling; forearm immobile across his chest, the shoulder long popped back into place yet still relatively useless and needing support. And his throat still throbs; rows of visible finger marks and solid area where a forearm had been placed against his neck in hopes of holding him still or rendering him unconscious. 

It’s an all over body ache like he’s never experienced before; pain that seems to travel right to his very core, settling in and gnawing incessantly. Thankfully the after effects of the drug he’d been injected with have almost disappeared; only hampered by moments of temporary memory loss, confusion, and brief episodes of dizziness. He’d slept for two days. Only waking long enough to make trips to the bathroom and to get as much liquid into him as possible. No energy for anything beyond that. Battling crushing fatigue and an incessant migraine that saw the need for the curtains to be tightly drawn and all lights and television turned off at all times.

As much as he wants to be in on the action and feel useful to the team, the fact remains that right now, he’s anything but. Knee still throbbing and limp much more pronounced, a store bought brace doing little to immobilize it or help alleviate some of the pain. He’s able to use his right hand, but has very limited movement in the shoulder itself, making even the smallest of tasks like dressing himself almost impossible. Deep bruises travel along the small of his back and into both kidney areas; the physician Anil had brought in the day after the attack believing the bruising most likely affects the organs as well. Each piece of damage already done to a broken and tattered body making him the weakest link and forcing him to step back for a couple of days. And for once he’d been relieved at the thought of being benched until the doctor declared him ‘medically fit’ to get back into the thick of things. And when Anil had assured him that the team would be fine without him and told him to take the next forty eight hours to spend with his family, he hadn’t stuck around long enough to question the decision.

One of the armed guards leads him to the backyard, and he can hear the kids before he sees them; their excited chattering, squealing, and giggling accompanied the sound of splashing water and Kyle’s deep, calm voice. And it’s his brother in law that sees him first; giving him a broad smile and a nod in greeting, then whispering something in Millie’s ear as she clings to his neck. Her wet hair sticks to the sides of her face and her forehead when she glances over her shoulder; eyes immediately sparkling and a bright, wide smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and abandons holding onto Kyle’s neck in favour of a frantic doggy paddle that takes her to the nearest ladder. “Daddy!”

Tyler had promised himself that he couldn’t crack. That he wouldn’t allow his tattered and fragile emotions get the better of him. His kids don’t need to see that; him bursting into tears and having a complete emotional meltdown. But he’d come so close...so fucking close...to never seeing them again. To never hearing their voices or feeling their hugs. To never seeing them grow up. And it’s impossible to completely hold back the desperation and relief; his throat feeling incredibly tight and tears burning his eyes as he manages to drop down to one knee as his daughter comes rushing towards him.

“Daddy!” Millie throws both arms around his neck, body drenched from the pool. “You’re here early! Mommy said you wouldn’t be here for a couple of days! But you’re already here!”

“I was able to get things done early.” Tyler explains. “Thought I’d show up and surprise you guys. What’s going on? You having a good time?”

“There’s lots of stuff to do here. Lots of cool stuff. But I still miss you. I wish you were here to do cool stuff WITH us.”

“I’ve got two days to spend with you guys. We can do all kinds of cool stuff.”

“Two whole days?” 

He nods.

“Daddy gets to spend two whole days with us, Tyler,” she says to her younger brother, as he practically shoves her out of the way to get to his father. Another set of arms wrapping his neck; a second wet body pressed up against him. None of that matters. The dampness of his clothes, the wet hair against his skin, the smell of chlorine. The only thing that matters is the press of those tiny bodies against his, the sound of their voices, and the smiles on their faces and the tears in their eyes.

“What happened?” Millie gingerly touches his shoulder. “You hurt it? Again?”

“Just banged it up a little. I need to keep it in this thing for a couple of days. It’s nothing serious. Hey…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her brow. “...it’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m fine. I’m here, right?”

She nods, valiantly holding back a flood of tears as her gentle and curious fingertips trace the bruises on his neck. “A bad guy did this to you?”

“A very bad guy.”

“Did you kill him? ‘Cause he hurt you? Did you kill him?”

“Don’t cry, Millie,” TJ implores, perched upon his dad’s thigh, an arm still around his neck. “Daddy’s fine. He came to visit. That means the bad guy lost. That daddy was stronger and meaner than the other guy was. He’s alive, right? No bad guy’s ever gonna kill daddy. He’s too strong and too smart.”

“Does it hurt?” Her voice cracks as she continues her exploration.

“A little. The other guy looks worse.”

“How come?” TJ asks. “Is he dead? Please tell me he’s dead. ‘Cause that’s what he gets for messing with you.”

“How about we NOT talk about killing people?” Tyler suggests, and accepts the hand that Kyle offers; able to pull himself to his feet without too much or the dizziness setting in.

“You look like you’ve been to war and back again,” Kyle remarks, then hands over Declan’s small yet solid and strong body, wrapped in a towel. 

“Feels like I’ve been to hell and back.” he admits, and runs a hand over his son’s damp hair and places a long, gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Well if you look like that but you’re here, I take it the other guy is in a body bag.”

Tyler nods in confirmation, then lets TJ and Millie pull him towards the house via the side pockets on his cargos; talking over each other as they prattle on about the home theatre and the playground and the animals and all of the things they can’t wait to show him. 

“How close did it come?” Kyle asks. “To you NOT being here?”

“Too close for comfort, that’s for sure. Needed to get away for a couple of days; clear my head. Figured this was the best place to do it.”

“Only place that matters,” Kyle reasons. “Things were starting to get a little tense around here. Wasn’t too bad when you didn’t call the first day, but when you missed the second? I thought my sister was going to have a mental breakdown. Then I see this…” he nods in the direction of Tyler’s injured shoulder. “...they didn’t get a hold of you, did they?”

“I’d look a lot worse if they did. And I definitely wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Tyler...oh my God…” The patio door slams shut behind Esme as she rushes out of the house in her bare feet, and he barely has time to pass Declan to his brother in law before she’s tossing her arms around his neck; her position on edge of the deck making them nearly the same height. Careful not to embrace him too enthusiastically; mindful of the injured shoulder, feeling the press of his immobile forearm against her. “...oh my God…” her hands are in the hair at the back of his head, fingers pressing into his scalp. And he can feel the way her body trembles against his and her tears against the side of her neck, not even trying to hold it in. Audible sobs of relief that have her shaking. And Kyle whisks Millie and TJ away; sparing the kids the sight of their emotionally fragile parents and giving them some sense of privacy. “...I was worried sick about you. Where the hell have you been?”

“It’s a long story.” He manages to hold back in his own tears, but the relief is evident in his voice. “I should have called. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I thought something happened to you. That they got a hold of you. And neither Yaz or Koen or Ovi would tell me anything but I could tell something was wrong. I figured it couldn’t be too bad if they weren’t showing up to tell me you’re dead. Are you okay? " Both hands are still in his hair when she pulls back to look at him. “Jesus Christ, what happened?”

“Not right now, okay?” He rubs the small of her back, then covers her lips with his in a long, slow kiss. “Later. When the kids are in bed. I don’t want them hearing it. I don’t even want YOU hearing it.”

“This goes way beyond someone just jumping you, doesn’t it.”

Tyler nods.

“What the fuck happened?” Gentle fingertips travel over the top of his shoulder and onto the side of his neck. “Never mind that. HOW the fuck did it happen? I don’t understand how someone could get THAT close to you? How…?”

His hand moves to the side of her face and he silences her with another kiss. Longer this time. Deeper. Harder. It’s desperate and it’s needy; fuelled by the realization that he comes so goddamn close to never getting a moment like this again. IF they’d managed to get a hold of him, he would have spent days, weeks, even months, being put through unbelievable agony and torture. Knowing his family was still out there; completely vulnerable without him to protect them. And he knows that Mahajan would have not only let Esme know that he was still alive, but he would have made sure she knew exactly what was being done to him. With no hope of him ever surviving it. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Her voice is just shy of a whisper as she embraces him tightly, and she presses her lips against the side of his neck. “That you’re okay and you're here and I don't have to worry about you anymore. How long can you say? Overnight?”

“Couple days.”

“That’s more than I thought,” she sniffles. “I’ll take it.”

“It’s okay now,” Tyler places a kiss on her temple. “I’m here. Everything’s okay now,”

“It’s so far from okay. I’M so far from okay. But you’re alive and you’re in one piece and that’s all that matters right now. I was so scared, Tyler. I was so fucking scared.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, baby. That’s the last thing I wanted. It was out of my control. Believe me when I say that..”

“I do. I do believe you. I just…” she pulls away once again and takes his face in her hands. “...I’m just so happy to see your stupidly handsome face.”

He gives a small chuckle and pecks her lips. “Where’s the baby? And Tanner?”

“They’re both napping. Tanner had a rough night. He’s having a hard time. And we really need to have a talk about him. About how smart he is. I can’t wrap my head around just HOW smart.”

“We’ll talk about it.”

“Go and see him,” she urges. “He’s in the living room. On the couch. He’s going to be so happy to see you. I’M so happy. And relieved. So fucking relieved.”

“It’s alright, Esme. I’m here.” He kisses her once more, then pulls her tightly against him with his one good arm. “I’m here.”

*****

Tyler spends a half an hour standing at the side of Addie’s crib. Watching her as she sleeps and reaching out to gingerly remove the soother than dangles precariously from her lips. The hand is soft and gentle that he lays against her hair; palm cupping the back of her head, thumb brushing repeatedly over her ear and then along the top of her cheek. And it’s then that he allows the tears to come. In that still, quiet room with the breeze fluttering the curtains and Addie’s tiny body rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. The enormity of what happened...what COULD have happen...finally hitting him. It’s the closest he’s been to death in nearly seven years. Had Farhad been successful at his attempt on the bridge and had Esme NOT been there to save him, his death would have been relatively quick; bleeding out in minutes and likely losing consciousness from shock before that happened. If his assailant had gotten a hold of him, death would have eluded him. At least until Mahajan felt he had learned his lesson.

He almost didn’t get this chance. The opportunity to see his infant daughter again. To see the way those long, dark eyelashes brush against the tops of her cheeks or how those soft, pink lips as if suckling from a bottle. To hear her soft breaths and the little murmurs and sighs. He’d come within minutes...maybe even seconds...of never experiencing her first birthday or seeing her take her first steps or hearing her call him daddy for the first time. It’s a sound -an experience- that always brings tears to his eyes and takes his breath away; the moment each of his children looked at him and smiled and finally knew exactly who he was and what to call him. Nothing on earth can possibly come close to that feeling.

He leaves her to sleep. Pressing the tips of two fingers to his lips before softly placing them against hers, then using a forearm to clear the tears from his face as he leaves the room. He’d slept for two days yet he’s still so fucking tired; body feeling as if it’s on autopilot, as if he’s simply going trough the motions of living. And while it’s a tremendous relief to be with his family and it was desperately needed, he hates that the sabbatical has been forced upon him. That some fucking asshole hired by Mahajan had not only gotten that close to him, but had been able to inflict the damage he had. It makes Tyler question everything; his confidence, his abilities, his skills. Whether or not he’s reached the end of the line. Forty is considered relatively old and washed up as far as mercenaries are concerned. And even without his underlying health issues, he can’t help but wonder if the attack is a sign that he’s lost his age and it’s time to let go. To leave field work behind him and just concentrate on running things in the background.

Tanner is still fast asleep on the couch; flat on his stomach with both arms wrapped around a throw pillow and a pout curving his lips. And he groans and grimaces as he kneels alongside his son, combing his fingers through his hair and pushing the wayward locks off his forehead; palm against his cheek, thumb brushing along the slope of his nose. And it isn’t until he leans in to press a kiss to his temple that Tanner stirs; giving a long, almost sad sigh and his eyes opening slightly.

“Daddy?” He breathes.

“Hey,” Tyler gives a soft, comforting smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“No, mate. You’re not dreaming. I’m really here.”

Those big blue eyes slowly widen; tears filling them, lower lip and chin quivering. “Daddy…” it comes out as a choked sob. “...you’re here...you’re okay...I was so worried about you. I was scared you were dead.”

“Well I’m not.” He lays a hand on the back of Tanner’s head and presses his lips to his brow, then his temple as those tiny arms circle his neck. “I’m here. With you.”

“You didn’t call. For two days! It scared me. I got worried. I thought the bad guys got you.”

“I’m sorry, Tanner. I didn’t mean to scare you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. Things got a little crazy and I couldn’t get to my phone. I am so sorry, mate. You forgive me?”

Tanner nods. “I was dreaming about you.”

“You were? What were you dreaming about?”

“We went to Disney World. Remember how you said we could go when I was old enough? And that we could go on rides together? Do you remember?”

“I remember.”

“That's what it was about. Going there and going on rides. And eating lots of joke food. And watching the fireworks. You let me sit on your shoulders. I like when you let me do that. Maybe we can go soon to Disney World?”

“Maybe. I’d have to talk to your mom about it.”

“You got hurt?”

“A little.”

“The bad people hurt you?”

“Just a bit.”

“What did you do to them? Did you hurt them back?”

Tyler nods.

“Did you kill them?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I did.”

“Does it make you sad? To kill people?”

“Sometimes, I guess.”

“Why? If they deserve it, why would you be sad?”

“It isn’t an easy thing to do. Even when they do deserve it.”

“Don’t be sad about it, daddy. You kill people so you can come home and see us. That’s why you do it, right?”

Tyler nods, swallowing around the painful lump of emotional sitting in his throat, tears sparkling in his eyes. Feeling regretful. Ashamed. Embarrassed of the person he’s become and the things he’s resorted to. The damage that his own hands have been able to inflict. The pain. The torture. The death. 

“I don’t care if that's what you do,” Tanner continues. “For your job. I don’t care if you kill people. They're not good people. But YOU are. Only good people help. Only good people fight back. That’s what you always tell TJ when he fights the bullies at school. You said that good people always stick up for people who can’t stick up for themselves. And that’s what you do, right? You help people who can’t do it themselves.”

“I guess that’s part of it. There’s so much more to it, though.”

“I don’t care what you have to do. Just as long as you come back. That’s all that matters. I don’t care what you have to do when you’re gone. As long as you’re daddy when you come home.”

He sniffles loudly and wipes away the tears that manage to escape. “You…” he presses a kiss to Tanner’s forehead. “...are way too pure and perfect for this world, you know that? This world doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

“Did you get to stay? Overnight?”

“I get to stay for TWO nights.”

His entire face brightens. “Really?” 

“Really,” Tyler confirms.

“We can do things together?”

“Yup. But I just gotta be careful with my shoulder. And my knee. It’s kinda messed up too.”

“Maybe you’re getting too old to fight the bad people.”

Tyler frowns. “Excuse you? How old do you think I am?”

“Uncle Koen said you used to ride a dinosaur to school.”

“He did, did he?”

Tanner nods.

“Remind me to flush the toilet the next Uncle Koen is in the shower.”

Tanner giggles. “That’s savage, daddy.”

“You want to come outside with me? So I can’t spend some time with everyone? Wanna show me the animals?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically, then tightens his hold around his father’s neck when he tries to stand. “I love you, daddy. I’m sorry for the times I made you mad and I made you yell. That you hated me.”

“Mate, I could never…ever...hate you. You’re my son. I helped your mom make you. No way I could ever hate you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. For ever yelling at you. I shouldn’t do that. You forgive me?”

“Of course I do. You’re my dad.”

“I love you, Tanner,” Tyler wraps an around his son’s tiny frame and draws him tightly into him; eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of the five year old’s head. “You have no idea how much.”


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks and love to @melmac for all your chats, brainstorming sessions, and for giving me someone to share my Tyler love with!

With a late afternoon rain came a break in the oppressive humidity; a much cooler breeze appearing as the sun began to set. The four oldest are already tucked into bed; satisfied and content after daddy obliged every request for ‘just one more story’ and they were spoiled with seemingly endless cuddles, hugs, and kisses. So relaxed and secure knowing that he’s under the same room that sleep came easily to all of them; worn out from not only the excitement of him showing up unexpectedly, but then spending every waking moment of the rest of the day vying for his attention. Constantly talking over one another, fighting over who go to sit on his shoulders when they showed him the animals, squabbling over who got to be beside him at dinner. It’s only been four days since they’d seen him at the airport, but it may as well have been a lifetime to them; ten minutes not nearly enough to erase the ache in their little hearts or the feeling of loneliness inside of them.

While not exactly a constant fixture in their lives at times because of the job and its unpredictability, he’d always been a hands-on father; starting right from the moment they found out there was a baby -or babies, in this twins’ case- on the way. Attentive and loving and even more protective than usual; determined to keep both her and the life inside of her as safe, secure, and healthy as possible. Feeling pride and wonder that he’d even been given the chance to be a father again; able to create life and nurture it when in all aspects, he should have died that day on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Every one of the pregnancies...everyone of the kids...serving as reminders of not only just how lucky he’d gotten that day, but that someone who’d made the mistakes and the bad decisions he’d had could still be worthy enough to be a dad once more. And he’s always been determined to be the best one he can possibly be; wanting to not only right all previous wrongs, but to prove that he could be a better man -and husband and father- than his old man had tried to teach him to be. Loving his children with every shred of his being and devoting himself to every aspect of their care and upbringing; even things as simple and mundane as changing diapers or giving them bottles or at the very least bringing to her for a feed.

As the first three got older, he took on new challenges and changes to guide them and help shape them for their futures. Whether it be something as profound as encouraging them to be compassionate and accepting and loving, or something as ‘normal’ as teaching them to surf and play soccer or even learning how to braid his little girl’s hair. No task too big or too small. Never complaining about being woken up in the middle of the night or hesitating when it comes to both showing affection and receiving it. And as corny and as sappy as it sounds, Esme realizes just how fortunate she really is; having someone that is willing to do it all without having to even be asked. She’s heard plenty of horror stories from the moms at school; tales of lazy and useless husbands that complain about even a half an hour spent for their children. Always able to brag about him and then able to go home knowing how she ‘lucked out’. Somehow, even during the craziest and possibly scariest time of her, managing to find the best possible person -and partner- to have a family with.

She stands by the open door of the balcony that leads off the bedroom she’d been ‘assigned to’. Both watching and listening to him as he lays flat on his back on a two person lounge chair with Addie on his chest; her tiny fists curled tightly around his index fingers as she alternates between raising her head and resting her chin against him. Those enormous dark eyes never leaving his face and a happy -and completely genuine- smile taking over her face every time he talks to her; the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose crinkling. He changes when he’s with her. In the same way he had with all the others when they were babies. This big, tough, strong man suddenly so gentle; his voice softer and calmer. Deeper, even. Enamored with her in the same way she is with him; his own eyes sparkling and crinkling and his own smile both testament to the fact that he finds her a complete wonder. Not quite believing that she really exists; questioning what he could have possibly done to deserve her. 

He’s a wonder himself. So brave and fearless and capable of inflicting so much pain and suffering, yet possessing so much tenderness and love. It would be so easy for him to be jaded and broken; to fall back into old habits and to become dependent on old, dangerous vices. But no matter how bad things get, no matter how difficult or impossible they seem, he puts all his time and effort into being a good man. Into loving his wife and children with everything he has.

“What are you guys doing?” she asks, as she steps out onto the balcony, drawing her hoodie tight across her body.

Tyler tilts his head back and smiles up at her. “Nothing. Just hanging out. Talking.”

“I hope you’re not telling her gruesome stories.”

“I would never do that to my little peanut,” he declares, and runs a palm over Addie’s hair, hand settling on the back of her head. “Daddy would never do that to you. He saves that stuff for mommy.”

“Because mommy so wants to hear your tales of killing people with garden tools. Look at the way she looks at you…” Esme leans over the back of the lounger and presses a kiss to his lips. “...like you’re got rainbows and glitter coming out of your ass or something. Already a daddy’s girl.”

“Nothing wrong with that. She knows who loves her the most. Who used to bring mommy tacos and ice cream and pop tarts at three in the morning when she was still in mommy’s tummy.”

“She definitely likes your voice. Not that I blame her; it’s a very nice voice.”

“She’s strong as hell already. Already holding her up on her own. None of the other ones did it that early. And she’s got a grip on her. Small and mighty. Like her momma. And you look just like your mom.” he addresses Addie now, as he removes his fingers from her grip and lifts her higher onto his chest; lips resting briefly against her forehead. “Beautiful just like her. Daddy’s not going to complain that you didn’t get his genes.”

“How do you think I feel? The first four look just like you. It’s about time one of them took after me. She does have your smile, though. Even her eyes and her nose wrinkle like yours do.”

“Yeah, but she’s all you. And that’s good,” he smiles up at her once more, as her hands slide over his shoulder and down his chest and she pecks the corner of his mouth. “It’s very good. She’s incredible. Just like you.”

“Are you hopped up on pain meds?” She teases.

“Not yet. Why? I’m not allowed to be all sappy and shit with my wife?”

“You’re allowed,” she says, then sinks down beside him, accepting a short, sweet kiss before stretching out on her side. Chin resting on his good shoulder, one hand on his stomach and the other just above his head; fingers gently combing through his hair. “She’s putting on weight. She’s going to graduate out of preemie clothes and diapers. Only took two and a half months.”

“She’s tiny. Like you.”

“I don’t understand how something that small can come from someone the size of you. None of the other kids were that small. Not even Tanner and he was sick. And Declan? Don’t even get me started on that kid. That was like giving birth to a toddler.”

“She’s always going to be tiny. I mean, you hit twelve and never grew again.”

“You know what, Tyler? Fuck you and your short jokes.”

“Don’t be bitter because you can’t get on the rides at the amusement park or reach things at the bottom of the washer.”

“You’re not very funny,” she grumbles, and presses a kiss to his chin. “Just because you’re absurdly tall and absurdly good looking. What a burden you have to live with every day. How do you manage? How do you carry such a heavy load all the time?”

“Heavy load? We’re talking about my dick?”

“You’re a pig,” she declares. “Don’t talk like that in front of my child. She doesn’t need to hear these things. Look at the way she smiles at you. You’re her favourite already. Not that I blame her; you’re my favourite too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. No one else comes close.”

He smiles, then turns his face into hers and kisses her. “We did good, yeah? With her?”

“We did. With all five of them. And at the risk of sounding conceited, we make some pretty damn good looking kids.”

“Some pretty amazing kids.”

“Well, they have an amazing dad, so…” she raises her head from his shoulder, regarding him intensely as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I really don’t.”

“Are you going to tell me about it, or…”

“I don’t really want to.”

“I think you should. I think you NEED to talk about it. And I think deep down, you want to. You don’t have to shelter me, Tyler. I married a mercenary; I went into things understanding the life and knowing the risks. You don’t have to hide stuff from me. You think you’d realize that by now.”

“I do. But YOU should realize that I do it to protect you.”

“Protect me from what? You? Because that’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve never once been afraid of you. Not in the slightest. And despite what you think, you’re not a burden. We went into this...marriage, having a family...expecting to help shoulder each other’s problems. So stop trying to do it all on your own. You’re strong, but you’re not THAT strong.”

He sighs heavily, then drops a kiss on the top of Addie’s head

“What happened, Tyler? Because I know this goes way beyond someone just jumping you. What the hell went wrong?”

“I don’t know. It was fucked up right from the beginning. As soon as I got there. It was this old factory turned into student housing or some shit. I had these four guys to take out; four shots, that’s all I needed. They were across the street at some bar or restaurant or whatever. I was waiting for them to come out. It should have been so fucking simple.”

Esme rolls over onto her stomach, chin resting on his chest as she regards him; patiently waiting for him to continue. She doesn’t push; that will only cause him to shut down completely. Instead she bides her time. Watching his face as her fingers fidget with the chain around his neck. 

“Things started going to shit. The street lights kept going on and off; just the two right in front of us. Then they went out completely. So I went to get the scope out of my bag, so I could see what the fuck I was doing.” His eyes narrow and his brow furrows as he attempts to recall the details. “And I don’t know I saw him or heard him but all of a sudden he was just there?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Just some guy. Big bastard. Wearing a black ski mask. It happened so fucking fast. I didn’t even get a chance to react. Nailed me right in the shoulder; like he knew where to get me. Where one of my weak spots is.”

“How would he know that?”

Tyler shrugs. “Nik there’s a mole. She said she’s looking into it, but I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything since.”

“What do you think”

“I think something’s fucked. He knew where to get me; knee, back, shoulder. He knew it and he took advantage of it. I stand a fucking chance. That’s how quick he was. He was so fast, babe. He wasn’t fucking around.”

“And where did these come from?” She runs a hand along the enormous, painful to the touch bruises on his biceps; arm now out of the sling. At least for the evening. “Both arms? And that’s NOT from someone grabbing you.”

“It was his knees. He wanted to keep me still; so I couldn’t get to my holster or the rifle. Fucking kept grabbing me by the throat; trying to choke me out. Kept asking me if I give up. I basically told him to go fuck himself. I wasn’t giving up. No way in hell. All I kept thinking about was you…” his voice cracks with emotion and tears well in his eyes. “...all I kept thinking about was you. About me getting a second chance and that I wasn’t done with it; I wasn’t ready to let that end. That I didn’t want to leave you or my kids. That I needed to survive. That YOU needed me to survive.”

“Tyler…” she presses a kiss to his cheek, then nestles her nose against his temple; eyes closed and her forehead against him, fingers still moving through his hair. “...it’s okay. Just breathe. That’s all you have to do. Just breathe.”

“I wasn’t going out like that. I wasn’t letting it end like that. I wasn’t letting US end. So I fought back. But I couldn’t get away. No matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough. He was so fucking strong, babe. Tall and big and heavy as fuck.”

“How did you get away?”

“I don’t know. There’s A LOT I don’t know. That I don’t remember. It’s all a big blur. It’s all there there and I know it’s all there but I can’t piece it together and none of it makes sense.”

“Well tell me what you do remember,” Esme encourages. “It doesn’t have to make sense. Just tell me whatever comes to you.”

“I know he drugged me. I remember that part.”

“Drugged you? What…?”

“He had a needle. I remember seeing it. I remember feeling it. Right there…” he lays a finger against the right side of his neck. “...just jammed it in. It was cold; whatever was in it. It was cold and it burned.”

She heaves a long, shaky sigh; her own tears threatening. “If he wanted to kill you, why would he do that? Why…?”

“He didn’t want to kill me. He wanted to knock my ass out. He probably had a few buddies waiting to help get me out of there. I know that sounds crazy. It sounds fucked up even to me. But I know that’s what was going to happen; what Mahajan told them to do. And I don't know where they were going to take me. Somewhere in the city, out of it, I don’t know. But it wouldn’t have been good once they got me there.”

“I don’t even want what to think about it,” her voice trembles.

“They would’ve let you know. That I was still alive. And they would have made you sure you knew what they were doing to me. They would have sent you pictures or made me call you or mailed you pieces of me.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” she repeats, then promptly bursts into tears; one hand clutching the front of his shirt and the other at his hair, face buried in his neck. “Please don’t. Don’t talk about it. Just stop.”

****

His shoulder throbs just with the simple act of laying his hand on Addie’s back to keep her secure. And he wraps his left arm around his wife’s trembling body, drawing her tightly into his side. Eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of her head; hand sliding up the back of her simple cotton t-shirt, knuckles repeatedly brushing up and down her spine. Not even attempting to hold his own tears back; feeling the moisture from hers settling on the side of his throat and his shoulder.

“I can’t think about it,” she whimpers. “I can’t. I can’t think about what they would have done to you.”

“It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t matter now. I’m here. It didn’t work. Whatever they had planned, I fucked it up. And I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“They’re sick and twisted fucks!” she cries. “And they would have made sure I knew what they were doing to do you and I wouldn’t have been able to do a goddamn thing about it. I wouldn’t have been to help or get you out of there. I wouldn’t have been able to do a fucking thing for you.”

“It’s alright, Esme. You don’t have to worry about it. It didn’t work. I fucked up everything for them and now I’m here with you and the kids. Where I should have been all along.”

“I don’t understand,” she raises her head to look at him. “How did they know where you were?”

Tyler shrugs.

“How did they get that close to you? Close enough to do all of this? How…?”

“I must have slipped up somehow. Maybe my brain is worse than we thought. Maybe I’m slowing down. Making mistakes Maybe…”

“You don’t make mistakes,” she argues. “I know you. I know how you work. I’ve SEEN you work, You don’t slip. You don’t fuck up. And you are as hell aren’t slowing down. You’re even better now than you were back in Dhaka. And that’s saying a lot because you were pretty fucking amazing even then.”

“Something happened. I made a mistake somewhere.”

“YOU didn’t do shit. This isn’t on you, Tyler. This is not your fault. Someone fucked up, but it wasn’t you. Who was watching you? Where were they?”

“Across the street. Keeping an eye on shit.”

“Across the street?! How the hell were they keeping an eye on you from across the goddamn street?! Whose idea was that? Yours?”

“I didn’t want anyone breathing down my neck. I can’t work like that. I’ve NEVER been able to work like that. And it’s not like I knew was going to happen. I didn’t want in there expecting some fuck not come in and choke me out and stab me with a fucking needle.”

“Okay...okay...calm down…” Her tone is gentle, his face in her hands. “...it’s alright. I’m not attacking you. Just take a break; everything’s fine. Addie’s asleep. And so she’s tiny and she’s so warm and I know you don’t want to scare her. Calm down, okay?” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Just stay calm.”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Who was supposed to be watching you?”

“Nathan. He had to take the four guys out when that fucking asshole came after me,”

“Calm…” she encourages, thumbs brushing over his lips. “...just stay calm. It’s okay. It's just you and me talking. No one else. No one’s judging you, Tyler.”

His eyes close, and he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Nathan,” he says, eyes opening and focusing on her. “Nathan was there; across the street. He took care of things. I don’t know what happened after that. Cops showed up, he took off. No one has seen or heard from him since.”

She frowns. “Nathan’s missing?”

“Missing. AWOL. I don’t fucking know. He’s gone. Cell and his SAT just go right to voicemail.”

“Could someone have gotten a hold of him? Could there have been someone else?”

“Why would they want him? What does holding him do? He’s a nobody to them. He means nothing to Mahajan. It’s me he wants. Taking Nathan does shit.”

“Well where could he be? Why would he just take off? That makes no sense.”

“Who the fuck knows. Maybe he’s dead. I have no idea. I just know he’s gone and no one knows where he is.”

“This is fucked up. Way more than we thought it was. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy. That Mahajan plays dirty and that he’d just step it up as time went on. Now people are going missing? YOU almost went missing. What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, babe. I really don’t know.”

“You need to walk away. This ends here. Your part is this. It ends right here, right now. Walk away, Tyler.”

“I can’t. The job isn’t even close to being finished.”

“Fuck the job. It’s finished for you. Look at you! Look what they did to you! They knew where you were, they knew what spots to target. They fucking drugged you! That alone could have killed you. Do you even know what he gave you?”

“Ketamine. I guess it’s a sedative of some kind.”

“Yeah, for horses! What the fuck? What’s next? If they get that close again, what happens?”

“They won’t get another chance.”

“You don’t know that. They’re not going to stop, Tyler. Do you really think they’re just going to walk away? They’re not going to give up. Not until they get you. He knows you’re here. Mahajan. He knows you’re in Mumbai. And soon your name and your picture are going to be everywhere and every goddamn gun in this city is going to be pointed at you. Is that what you want? You WANT there to be?”

“No,” he scowls. “That’s NOT what I want.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why won’t you just walk away? Why can’t you just let Anil and his people and Nik and hers handle this? Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s MY family. Not theirs. Mine.”

“And your family wants you alive!” Esme retorts. “We don’t want you out there dying for us. We need you here. With us. So just tell Anil you’re walking away . That you HAVE to walk away. That you need to be with your family. Tell him.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I can’t, baby. I can’t do that.”

“You don’t need to do this. There’s other people who are more than capable of handling things. Walk away, Tyler. Before you can’t. Before it’s too late. Because if they go that close to you once, they’ll do it again. And this time it won’t be just one guy. It’ll be two. Or three. Or four. Or half a fucking dozen. Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“I am listening. You’re not listening to me.”

“This is a suicide mission. This is the kind shit you used to pull before we met. Don’t go back to that. Don’t go back to being him. He died a long time ago. You said it yourself; that he was long gone. You’re not the same person you were back then. You have me and you have five little beings you helped make. That love you and need you in their lives.”

“I’m doing this for them. For he,” he nods down at Addie as she sleeps peacefully. “So she can grow up. So she can have a life.”

“A life without you. That’s what you’re saying, right? That you’re going to sacrifice yourself for her. For us.”

“We knew that going into this. That it would happen.”

“No. We thought it MIGHT happen. There’s a difference. And I’m asking you...NO...I’m telling you...walk away so you don’t have to make that choice. So it doesn’t come to that.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I am so sorry.”

“So what’s it? You’ve just decided that this is what’s going to happen? You just decided for yourself that you’re going to give up. You’re telling me that you’re okay with that. Dying for us.”

“I’ve already taken bullets for you. Trying to get you the fuck out of Dhaka. And I would take all of those bullets again. And then some. I would die for you in a heartbeat. For you, for my kids. No hesitation.”

“But you shouldn’t have to!” Esme argues. “And you don’t have to. Just walk away. Let other people handle this. Please. You have two choices and you’re making the wrong one. Why can’t you see that?”

“If I give myself up, he’ll leave you alone.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you? That that’s going to solve everything? Because it won’t. You offering yourself up like some kid of sacrificial fucking lamb is not the answer.”

“Hey...calm…” He reaches up and pushes a hand through her hair, tightly gripping the back of her head. “...you told me to stay calm for Addie. Now I need you to stay calm for her. She doesn’t need this. She's a baby. Just a baby.”

“Yeah, she is. She’s OUR baby. As in me and you. And she needs you. She needs her dad. They all do. And you’re sitting here telling me that you’re willing to offer yourself up. It’s bullshit and it’s insane and I want you to knock it the fuck off.”

“I said calm down!” He orders, then aggressively pulls her into him. Pressing a kiss to her forehead. “...just calm down. Please. Take it easy.”

“You are NOT doing this. I won’t let you. This is not what we talked about, This is not what we agreed on.”

“There’s no other choice.”

She shoves him away. “There’s always another choice! It doesn’t have to come down to this. You for us. It doesn’t need to be this way and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t just walk away. I can’t.”

“Promise me when you walk out that door two days from now that won’t just go and offer yourself up. You don’t need to do that. There’s other ways. There’s still fight left in you. I know right now you feel like there isn’t. I know you're doubting yourself. But I have faith in you and I know you can handle this. WITHOUT giving yourself up. Promise me you’ll fight back. That you’re not just quitting. That THAT will be the last resort.”

“If I have no other choice, I’ll do it.”

“But right now you HAVE other choices. You know that, right? You see that?”

Tyler nods.

“Because you don’t give up. You NEVER give up. You’re alive today because you didn’t. So don’t fucking start now. I mean we’re supposed to be having another baby. And I don’t know if you realize how these things work, but I kind of need you for that.”

“I could always just jerk off into a cup and you save it.”

“Okay, you know what? No. I’d rather the old fashion way, thank you. I kind of like having sex with you. It’s kinda fun.”

He smirks. “Kinda?”

“Okay, it’s a lot of fun, actually. I didn’t think I had to say that. I thought the results spoke for themselves. We don’t have kids for nothing. And I’d say go for the sixth one right now, but you jumped the gun and you decided we were done and go the old…” she holds her hand up, mimicking a pair of scissors with her index and middle finger.

“Not my best decision, I admit.”

“You have this uncanny ability of changing your mind about this whole having another baby thing. How many times have we decided that we’re stopping only for you to turn around and want another one the second the baby came home?”

“It’s never been THAT soon.”

“Excuse me? How old were the twins when you decided that three wasn’t enough after all?”

“Yeah…” he gives a small, almost sad smile. “...but that one didn’t work out, did it.”

“No.” She presses a kiss to his temple. “It didn’t. And I know it was hard on you. That you didn’t really get to grieve like I did. I’m sorry for that. That I wasn’t there for you in the way you were for me. I’m pretty fucking selfish, aren’t I.”

“No, you’re not. You needed me a lot more than I needed you. Just hard sometimes still. Thinking about it. It was a shitty fucking time. I didn’t think anything could hurt THAT bad.”

“Do you ever wonder? What it would have been?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, running a palm over Addie’s hair and then laying it gently on the top of her head; thumb repeatedly brushing against her ear. “Sometimes I’ll think about it; if it would have been a boy or a girl and what they would have looked like. Then I think maybe things really do happen to reason, no matter how bad they are. If we had had that baby. Declan wouldn’t be here. And maybe we would have stopped after and Addie wouldn’t be here. And I wouldn’t trade either of them for anything.”

“You’re beautiful,” she says, feeling him grin when she kisses the corner of his mouth. “You have the most beautiful mind and this most beautiful heart. And I know you hate me using that word when it comes to describing you. But it’s true; I can’t help it.”

“I’ll let it slide. I’ll let you have it.”

“I have to say, despite my initial reservations about having another one, you do do the whole ‘big, strong man with a tiny baby’ thing very well.”

“You find it sexy don’t you.” 

“Very. I find you very sexy. But this…” she trails her fingertips over the myriad of bruises that take up nearly every inch of his neck. “...this is scary. I’ve seen you with a lot of injuries. I’ve even seen you in the worst possible shape. But this? This bothers me the most for some reason. And what’s going on here…” she turns his face away from her and tender fingers investigate the scar left behind from Farhad. “...what were they trying to do? That’s the worst spot. I don’t think it would take much to fuck things up in there.”

“They knew exactly what to target.”

“Any idea who it was?”

“One of the guys off the list. Number 18. Weird part about it? He worked for Asif during the whole Dhaka thing. Guess he was his right hand man. Moved on to Mahajan when Nik put a couple bullets into Asif.”

“Now that’s fucked, Go from drug lord to the other? So much for loyalty. How’d you kill him?”

“Shot him. Under the chin. I don’t know how I managed. Last thing I remember was that fucking needle. That’s it. Everything else is a blur. Came to and there was a dead body on top of me. I don’t even know how long I was out for.”

“You called me. Some time before you passed you. You don’t remember that, either?”

Tyler shakes his head.

“It freaked me out. I could hear you breathing and it sounded like you were trying to say something. That wasn't a random pocket dial, was it.”

“No. It wasn’t. I don’t even know why I called. I don’t know if I was calling you for help or if I thought I was dying and I wanted to tell you that I loved you…” his voice wavers once again and tears return to his eyes. “...if I wanted your voice to be the last thing I heard. And I wish I did remember it. That I called.”

“It’s okay.” She places a series of kisses across his forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. “...it’s okay now. You’re here and that’s what matters. You made it out of there. You found a way. You always do.”

“What if I don’t next time? What if it is two guys? Or three or four? Half a dozen? A dozen?”

“I shouldn’t have put that in your head. I’m sorry.” She brushes the tip of her nose against his temple. “That is the last thing you needed to hear. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“I was thinking it long before you said it.”

“I know you want to stay on this. And I get it. I do…” she runs her knuckles along his jaw, beard scraping her skin. “...I know you want to protect us. And I love you so much for that and I love that part of you so fiercely. You ALWAYS protect us. Everything you do, every decision you make, it’s always for us. But you can protect us without being out there. You know you can. I know you can.”

“How? If I don’t stop them, they’ll get to you. And the kids.”

“But if you’re here, you can stop them. And look at all the people that are here to help. Nik, all of Anil’s people. That’s a lot of fire power. And before you hand me that bullshit about how it’s up to you and only you to protect us, don’t even go there. Because you’re good, but not even you can stop them by yourself. You need help. So swallow your fucking pride and admit that. That you can’t do it alone.”

“I’m not alone. I’be some my guys and Nik’s people and…”

“You were alone the other night,” Esme points out. “What was Nathan going to do from across the street? That is not helping. That’s YOUR version of helping. If you’re here, under the same room as all these people, Mahajan and his cronies won’t stand a chance. We’re safer if you’re here. And I think you realize that.”

“It’s putting a bigger target on you and the kids,” he argues. “If they figure out I’m here, they’ll show up.”

“Isn’t that what we want? Them out in the open? Let them come here. With all these people? With you? They won’t get very far, will they At least tell me you’re listening and not blocking me out. Usually I can read your face, but right now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not blocking you, babe. I’m listening.”

“It makes more sense for you to be here than it does for you to be out on the street where every goddamn gun will be pointed at you. If you’re here, there’s more control over the situation, right? You’d have the upper hand because you’d be familiar with the place and they wouldn’t. And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t feel better being with us. That you don’t WANT to be here.”

“I do,” Tyler assures her. “It’s the only place I do want to be.”

“Then just do it. Just tell Anil that’s how it’s going to be. Explain to him why it makes the most sense. Deep down, you know this is the right thing to do. You know it’s better for us...especially the kids...if you’re here. And I know you can’ deny that it would be better for you, too. Mentally speaking.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod. “You’re right.”

“Stop being so stubborn,” Esme implores. “This is not the time for that. You know this is the best way to handle things. I know you do. But I also know you hate taking advice from other people and that everything you do has to be your idea.”

He smirks. “You really DO know me well.”

“I so do. I also know I’m the only one who can talk like this to you and not have you get defensive. It’s too dangerous, Tyler. Especially now that Mahajan knows you’re in Mumbai and he’s stepping things up. You can’t be out on the street and you know it. I know that makes you feel useless. And weak. That you’re second guessing and doubting yourself. And you need to knock that shit off. Because you are the stronger, bravest person I know. And you’re the only one I trust with my life. With our kids’ lives. And I need you here. And you need to be here.”

He sighs, then pushes her fingers through her hair, moving it away from her face and off her shoulder. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what? Insanely beautiful and phenomenally intelligent?”

“I was going to say a huge pain in my ass, but okay, I’ll give you those.”

“What are you so worried about? Mahajan’s people showing up?”

“I don’t exactly what them on the doorstep. I don’t want them where you are. Where the kids are.”

“How far could they get with all these people here? I practically can’t take a pee without someone with an AK following me to the bathroom. What do you think can happen when there’s that much firepower here?”

“That’s exactly it. Firepower. With my kids here.”

“I’m not worried about that. Half of Anil’s basement is a panic room. The kids and I will be fine.”

Tyler frowns.

“What?”

“Why the hell didn’t you mention that right off the hop? Why didn’t you tell me that an hour ago when we started talking about this?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I forgot,” Esme admits. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about the panic basement.”

“I swear to God, for the last seven years, this is how our conversations have gone. We talk about something for an hour when it could have been solved in five minutes. You always leave out that one piece of information that could have saved us a lot fucking time.”

“I’m sorry…” she pouts dramatically, then places a line of kisses along his jaw, over his ear, and up onto his head. “...I know that annoys you. Do you still love me?”

“I do. But fuck, you’re a pain in my ass. No wonder I have gray hair and an ulcer.”

“You don’t have an ulcer.”

“Not yet. But when I get one, it’ll have your name on it.”

“I have a confession.”

He sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“I annoy you on purpose. Because you’re so cute when you’re annoyed. You get the cutest look on your face. It’s adorable. I can’t help myself. I’m sorry. I like your face and all your expressions. You have a really nice face.”

He grins. “I’m starting to really question your taste in men.”

“Please! You know you’re ridiculously good looking. It’s okay to be a bit conceited. I can forgive you for that if you can forgive me for being annoying.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty fucking annoying.”

She scowls, then bites down on his earlobe.

“Ow! Fuck sakes! What is wrong with you? I’m not hurt enough for you? Why you do me like that?”

“Because I know you like it. MY particular brand of pain. What are you going to do? Spank me?”

“You’d like that too much.”

“I would actually,” she says, and then shivers against him when his fingertips graze down her spine. Giggling and squirming against him when he grabs her ass and roughly squeezes “That hurts! What’s your issue?”

“You really want to know?”

Esme nods.

He removes his hand from her ass, then takes one of hers and places it on his crotch.

“Oh…” her eyes widen. “...that’s the only part of you that’s not hurt and IS working properly.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I am definitely not. Because I missed you. And I’m not talking the sappy and corny shit about missing you and your quirks and all the stupid shit you do. Right now, I really miss having sex with you.”

“If you had just admitted that an hour ago, we could have skipped over a whole lot of drama.”

“We said things that needed to be said and talked about things we needed to talk about. And now, I think you need to use your mouth for something else. IF you’re up to it.”

“Oh, I’m up to it. THAT anyways. Anything else, you might have to do the work. Or the majority of it anyway.”

“You mean I get to be in charge?”

He frowns. “I never said that.”

“You’re such a control freak,” she says, then pecks his lips before sling off the lounge chair and carefully removing a sleeping Addie from his chest. “I’m going to go and put her in her bed. And when I get back, you better be in mind. Naked. Ready to go. I’m not fucking around. Well, I AM. Fucking that is, You know what I mean.”

He’s grinning as he watches her ass move as she walks away. “How much DID you miss me?”

“Not THAT much, Tyler. Forget about it. It’s not our anniversary yet.”

“Early anniversary present?” He suggests hopefully.

“You wish!” She scoffs, then disappears into the house.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of panic attacks, PTSD, depression

He wakes up gasping for air; body covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his legs frantically kicking at the blankets covering them. The weight against his limbs seeming unbearable; thin, smooth cotton weighing him down and trapping him where he lay. Chest both heaving AND aching; a mixture of sheer terror and utter panic squeezing and tightening his lungs as he struggles to draw in a single breath. Brain stuck between the horrors of the nightmare he’d just endured and trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. Fully aware that he SHOULD know where he is, yet finds it impossible to piece all together. An after effect of the handful of pain meds he’d swallowed dry before settling down to sleep; the strength of them further muddling an already battered and tortured mind. It’s gotten worse since the Ketamime. Increased instances of short term memory problems and finding himself more easily confused and having trouble with remembering even the simplest of words during a normal conversation. And it frustrates him. Makes him feel broken and utterly useless.

It also makes the rage inside of him grow. An anger so raw and so profound that he can barely rein it in; worried that he’ll snap and take it out on the people who don’t deserve it. And there’s fear; bitter and legitimate. Concerned that somehow the ketamine has caused permanent issues; aggravating his already brittle and fragile brain and leaving him with the worry that he’ll never get back to where he was before all of this ever happened. The neurologist had long ago warned that it could happen; the damage done from lack of oxygen when he’d coded twice in the OR either worsening or becoming progressive. And he’s operated under a guise of slight fear that his frustration surrounding his mental issues and the confusion he often experiences will only grow and eat away at him from the inside out; turning him into someone he no longer recognizes. That he can no longer stand.

The nightmares started twenty four hours ago.Vivid and horrifying. Temporarily parlazyed by drugs yet hands and feet still restrained by zip ties; a captor’s hand on his throat and another tightly gripping his hair as he’s forced to watch some of Mahajan’s men slowly torture and brutalize his wife and children. Mocking his rage, disgust, and grief; spitting in his face and digging their fingers into his eyes to force them open whenever he tries to close them. Unable to move yet desperate to save his family; resorting to sobbing and begging for mercy. Pleading with them to just leave Esme and the kids alone; that they’re innocent and Mahajan could do whatever he wants to him. But they only laugh at him, keeping him firmly in place as they continue their brutality and make him listen to the way his family screams and cries out for them to help them. And it isn’t until one of the captors puts a gun to Esme’s head and pulls the trigger that he snaps awake; unable to move or speak in the same way he’d been immobilized and silenced three days before. 

It’s the inability to move or speak that brings on the panic. His heart pounding in his chest and his lungs impossibly tight and burning as they try to suck in air; violently shivering, his body covered head to toe in a cold sweat. And when the feeling of being paralysed subsides, his body and mind choose to fight; kicking and thrashing and writhing while tears spill down his cheeks. Unable to fully graph what is going on around him; hearing the thundering of his heart in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears both overwhelming and deafening. And he’s vaguely aware of her voice trying to push its way through all the madness; his name gentle and concerned at first, then more stern and forceful. He can feel her hands tightly gripping his forearms and then his shoulders. Looking right at her yet not actually seeing her. Focused instead on those horrible images still taking up residence in his brain.

“Tyler!” Her hands on his face, nails digging into his cheeks. “Look at me! It’s over. Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. You’re right here. Look at me!” She forces his face towards her when he attempts to look away. “Everything’s fine. Whatever it was, it’s gone. It’s okay. I’m here and you’re here and everything’s fine now.”

It finally begins to dissipate; panic subsiding and his lungs releasing and his heartbeat returning to normal. Breath still coming out in ragged pants and his legs -previously drawn impossibly straight and tight= relaxing and his fists letting go of their grip on the fitted sheet. He closes his eyes; feeling her hands on his face and the way her knuckles stroke his beard and her fingertips brush away his tears and her thumbs swipe across his lips. And when he opens them he can actually see her; those terrifying and gruesome images from the nightmare disappearing. Her face mere inches from his; dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, tears in her eyes and the moonlight bathing her skin in a soft, silvery light.

“It’s okay now,” Esme says. “Everything’s fine. You’re not there anymore. Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore.”

“Fuck…” he manages through ragged breath. “...what the hell?”

“It was a panic attack. Or at least I think it was. One of those dissociative types. You used to get them all the time right after Dhaka. You haven’t had one in a long while. A few years at least.”

He sighs heavily -and shakily- and drops his chin to his chest. Easily relaxing at the touch of her hands; soft and soothing against his face and the side of his neck. Fingertips grazing his skin and gently tracing each tattoo and scar and bulging, strained muscle.

“It’s alright,”her voice is gentler than he’s ever remembered hearing it, and one of her hands slips around to the back of his head, the other rubbing his shoulder. “YOU’RE alright. Bad dream?”

He nods.

“You want to tell me about it, or…?”

“I can’t. Not this one. I can’t tell you about this one.”

“Worse than the ones you were having at home?”

“Way worse.”

“About me and the kids?”

“Don’t...please…don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She gives a reassuring smile, running her nails along the back of his neck and up into his hair. “Baby, you’re sweating like crazy. You’re drenched. That must have been a really bad one.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

“I’m not asking you to talk about it.” The tone of her voice never changes; soft and low and comforting. And she doesn’t become defensive or irritable when he snaps at her. “Look at me...Tyler...look at me.”

He raises his head from his chest. Afraid of what he might find in her eyes. Annoyance. Frustration. Maybe even disappointment. Or even worse, pity. But none of that is there. He finds nothing but genuine concern and a tenderness and love that -even after almost seven years- he’s not sure he deserves. And neither of them speak as her eyes slowly take in every inch of his face and her fingertips brush across his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. Then over the scar on his forehead and near his left eye. 

“It’s okay.” Her voice is just shy of a whisper, and he closes his eyes once more when that impossibly soft touch travels down his jaw. “...everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m more about you than my sleep. Are you okay now?”

“Not really,” Tyler admits.

“Do you at least feel a little bit better?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“It’ll be alright. Whatever it was about, it wasn’t real. None of it actually happened. Wherever you were in that dream, you’re not there anymore. Do you need some anxiety meds or pain ones or a drink of water or…?”

“I can take care of myself.” His response is more irritable than he’d intended it to be, and now he sees the annoyance creep into her eyes and face. “I’m not a child. I don’t need you babying me.”

“Let me love you,” Esme implores. “Let me take care of you. You’ve done it for me.”

“I’m supposed to. I’m the guy.”

“Oh for fuck sake. Shut up, Tyler. You know how I hate when you say shit like that.”

With his face resting in her hands once again, she presses a kiss to his forehead. And his eyes flicker open as she climbs off the bed; feeling that slight dip in the mattress and then watching her as she heads for the ensuite bathroom. He feels pathetic; a watered down, weakened version of his former self that needs someone looking after him. His body and brain so messed up that he can barely function as a self sufficient adult. When the fuck did that happen? When did he become so goddamn soft that he needs someone...especially a woman...to take care of him? It makes him angry. Frustrated. That seven years ago some fucking teenager trying to impress a drug lord took so much away from him. His confidence. His pride. His ego. And that he’s been struggling ever since to hold onto the remaining shreds of those traits.

“What?” Esme inquires as she returns from the bathroom, holding a bottle of meds and a glass of water in one hand and a damp face cloth in the other. She looks so goddamn cute; her hair messy and wild from sleep, clad in one of his t-shirts falling well past her knees and hiding the sleep shorts she wears underneath. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.” His response is simple. But heartfelt. And true.

“I know,” she says with a smile, then kneels in front of him in the middle of the bed. “And I love you. Here…” she hands him the bottle of meds and the water, then places the cloth against the back of his neck. It’s cool to the touch, and she holds it there for several seconds before softly patting it against his clammy skin. Over the nape of his neck and along his hairline line before moving to his forehead and temples.

“Why do you do this?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Take care of me like this.”

She moves the cloth to the left side of his neck. “Would you rather I didn’t? Would I rather be the type of wife that doesn’t give a shit about you? That doesn’t give a fuck when you’re struggling?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know you hate it. I know you think I’m babying you. That you somehow think it makes you less of a man. And I won’t get into how that’s the biggest bunch of horseshit I’ve ever heard. I do it because I love you. Because I want to take care of you. Because I worry about you. And because you’re my husband and the father of my children and my best friend and I hate that you’re going through this.”

“I’ve been going through it for about seven years. And you’re still here. Doing this.”

“I’m here because I want to be. Because my life would totally suck without you in it. Because we have a lot more really good times than we have really bad times. And because regardless of what you think, you deserve someone that loves you wants to take care of you.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. And besides, you’d do it for me. You HAVE done it for me. More times than you even realize. You’re not weak, Tyler. Being human doesn’t make you weak. You’re not a goddamn cyborg or some shit like that.”

“I just hate it. Being like this. It’s so fucked up, babe. My brain. I hate it and I hate living like this.”

“You’re not like anything. You have issues. Lots of people have issues. Are they weak? Do you see them that way? How about me? I have mental health problems. Am I weak?”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You stick around. Through all of this bullshit. All of MY bullshit.”

“I stick around because my life is better with you in it. Because I love you and you make me smile and you make me laugh and you look at me like I’m the most beautiful, incredible woman on earth. And because we have a good life. A GREAT life. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes when this kind of stuff happens.”

He nods in agreement, eyes closing when he feels the press of the cool cloth against his throat; soft, feathery touches over the gathering of scars and tattoos and painful to the touch bruises. Before her, he’d never experience this; a voice so gentle, a touch so tender, eyes so loving. No one has ever looked at him the way she does. Not even having to touch him or even speak, yet so effectively letting him know exactly how she feels. It’s overwhelming. To be loved THAT much. And even now...after almost seven years and five kids...he’s embarrassed by the tears that well in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Esme continues, running the cloth down the bridge of his nose, then along one side of his jaw, followed by the other. “That this is happening. The things going on in your brain. It’s not like you can stop it. It’s not like you can help it.”

“I haven’t been there in a long time. This place. This dark, hopeless fucking place. And I don’t know if I’m going to make it out. It’s dragging me down and it won’t let me go. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t talk like that, okay? Because that’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. We’ve got you through this before. We’ve got you out of that dark place. And we’ll get you out of there again.”

The tears come now. Slipping easily down his cheeks as she cradles his face in her hands; lips placing impossibly soft kisses across his brow and over his eyes; along each side of his jaw and then onto his lips. And her forehead comes to rest against his, hands moving to the back of his neck and then into his hair.

*****

“It’s going to be okay.” she whispers. “You’ll be okay.”

“I fucking hope so. Because right now? I just want to put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

“That’s what you THINK you want to do. But I know you don’t. Because the last thing you want to do is leave those kids. I know that’s one of your worst fears; the kids growing up without you and forgetting about you. And I also know that you love those kids more than you love yourself. That you’re an amazing dad and you don’t take a single second with them for granted. You were given a second chance. A new life. And you don’t want to lose that.”

“They’d be better off. Without me. Without the bullshit that comes with me. All this fucking bullshit. The people I’ve pissed off. Guys like Mahajan who want me dead and will stop at nothing to make that happen. Who will hurt them to get to me. They don’t deserve that, and if I wasn’t around…”

“No. Stop,” Esme orders. “Don’t go there. Don’t let your brain go there. That’s a bad place to go into, Tyler. Don’t even think about it . Don’t open that door. Because once you do and go in there…”

“Can’t you fucking see who I am? Why are you blind to it? I’m a fucking mercenary. I’m a shit person. I kill people. For money.”

“You HELP people. For money. And sometimes, yes, you have to kill. And it sucks and it’s hard and you always feel like shit after you do it. But you do it because you have to. Not because you WANT to. Not because you enjoy it. Would you rather it be you? Would they rather they kill you first? Or is that what you’re hoping? That someone will. So you don’t have to do it. You’re hoping that someone else does it for you. Is that where you are right now? Is that you’re head space?”

“I don’t want you to spend your life looking over your shoulder. Worrying about who’s going to come after you. Who’s coming to come after the kids. It doesn’t matter how many people I wipe off that list. It doesn’t matter if Anil takes out Mahajan. How many more do you think are out there? People that would love to get a hold of me and teach me a lesson? How many toes do you think I’ve stepped on? How many people do you think I’ve pissed off? You’re never going to be away from that. You’re always going to be a target. And so are those kids.”

“And I knew all of that going into this. I knew who you were and I knew all about your past and what you did for a living. It was always right out there. I was in it too, remember? It’s how we met. Right off the hop I knew everything I needed to know about you. Just like you knew everything about me. And if I didn’t think I could handle it...handle YOU...I never would have stuck around in Australia after Dhaka. I would have left. Pregnant or not. If I didn’t think I could deal, I would have been gone and you never would have heard from me again. I would have made sure you never would have been able to track me down. You’re not the only one with a past, Tyler. You’re not the only one who has pissed people off and put yourself on umpteen shit lists. The people I’ve lied to? The people whose lives I wormed my way into and who trusted me only to have me fuck everything up and bring in guys like you? Those kinds of people make Mahajan look innocent. So don’t sit here and act like you’re the only one who’s left a shit ton of burnt bridges behind you.”

“You’re not the one with blood on your hands.”

“The hell I’m not!” she argues, body and voice shaking with anger, tears threatening. “Who tracked down those guys in Dhaka? That had Ovi at that apartment. Who got people to trust her enough to tell her where Ovi was? It was me. I found out where he was and I was the one who sent you there. So yeah, I do have blood on my hands. Saju is dead because of me. Because he had to get me out of that fucking shit hole. And you? What happened to you? That sniper, Farhad, the whole fucking mess? That’s on me too. And for seven years you’ve done nothing but blame yourself for decisions you made in Dhaka. Decisions you made for me so you could get me out of there. So YOUR blood is on my hands too.”

He blinks at the vehemence in her voice. 

“You think you’re the only one with guilt? With regret? That you’re the only one who hates themselves for the way things went there? Every day for seven years I’ve felt like a shit fucking person for what happened. To Saju, to you. Every time I would see that scar on your neck or you’d talk about what happened or you’d second guess the choices you made, all I would think about is how much I hate for myself before being the one that led you to the goddamn bridge.”

“You weren’t. It was the only way out of there. We had no other choice but to go there. None of that was on you. None of it.”

“IF I hadn't been there...in Dhaka...you wouldn’t have to make the choices you did. You could have gotten yourself out of there. None of what happened on that bridge would have gone down. You don’t think I live with that? That I haven’t been living with? You think I don’t feel guilt or regret? That I don’t think it’s my fault that all this happened to you. That I don’t think ‘if only I’d left. If only I’d pushed him away. If only I didn’t let things happen between us’. You’re not the only one who thinks those things, Tyler. Every time something goes wrong...every time some asshole comes after you...every time you get dragged back into this bullshit...I think about it. How what happened to you on that bridge was my fault.”

“But it wasn’t,” he insists. “None of that was your fault.”

“You always talk about how you could have saved me from this life by pushing me away, by forcing me to leave, by not letting things happen between us in Dhaka. You think you’re the only one who thinks shit like that? That I haven’t thought about it? That I haven’t thought ‘if only I’d made him leave, he wouldn’t be going through all this crap trying to keep me safe’. It’s all I’ve been thinking since all this shit with Mahajan started. That I’ve I never let things happen or I’d pushed you away or if I hadn’t stayed in Australia…”

“If you hadn’t stayed, you’d be out there with my kid. My daughter.”

“But she’d be safe , right? You seem to think she’d be better off without you. That her life would be better if you weren’t in it. Isn’t that what you said five minutes ago? That if you weren’t around, her life would be better. Did you not say that?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah...I did.”

“You wouldn’t have known about her. You wouldn’t have known her name, what she looked like. Nothing. And that’s okay with you?”

“No. That’s not okay.”

“Had I walked away, you never would have known her. And she’s beautiful and she’s amazing and she’s so fucking smart and she’s so much like you. And she deserves having you in her life. Whether you want to be in it or not.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “Of course I want to be in. She’s my daughter. My little girl.”

“Then why would you ever…ever...say that she’d be better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. She loves you. She thinks the sun shines out of your ass, for fuck sakes. She adores you and worships the ground you walk on and yet you turn around and you’d take yourself out of her life?”

“I just want to protect her. All of them. You.”

“And you think not being around would do that? Saju is dead and Mahajan still went after his family. Neysa and Aarav are in hiding because of him. What makes you think they wouldn’t come after me and the kids? You really think they’d leave us alone? You being gone wouldn’t stop him, Tyler. He’d come after us regardless. And we wouldn’t stand a chance. The only thing you being gone would do is kill all of us. Because without you, there’s no one to stop him.”

“And you think I can? Stop him? Look at me.”

“I don’t need to look at you. I don’t…”

He takes her chin in his hand, in the curve between his thumb and forefinger, and turns her head towards him. “Look at me. Take a good look at me. Look what they did. What one guy was able to do. I won’t be able to stop them.”

“You’re not going to be like this forever. A week at the most, right? And then you’ll go back to being you. You don’t let anything stop you. I saw you on that bridge. After that sniper got you. You were already in rough shape…horrible shape...way worse than you are now…and you still got up and fought back. Nothing stops you. Especially not when it’s about your kids.”

He sighs, then lays his forehead against hers.

“The only thing that you being gone would do, is kill me,” she says, eyes closed as the tears trickle down her cheeks. “Inside. Because I don’t want to do this without you. This life. We have five kids. We have a whole life ahead of us. We have a lot of years to go still. We have kids to put into college and to see graduate and get married and have their own children. We’ll have grandkids to spoil. And I don’t want to do all that without you. It’s not that I can’t; I know I can. I just don’t want to.”

“Baby…” he holds her face in both hands and presses a kiss to her brow. “...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that shit. It’s just all too much. Mahajan, his people, the other night, the fucking nightmares. It’s weighing me down and it’s eating me alive and I hate what it’s doing to me. And I’m scared. Because if anything happens to you or my kids…”

“It won’t. Not if you’re here. And I just don’t mean, here, here. I mean HERE. On this earth. As long you’re here, fighting for us? Nothing can go wrong. And I need you fighting us. Not just me and the kids. But US.”

“I don’t know how much fight I have left in me, Esme. I’m pretty fucked up. The other night? What the guy managed to do? That never should have happened. If I was half the guy I was seven years ago….”

“You’re better than you were seven years ago, Tyler. In every way. One bad night doesn't erase who you are and what you know and the things you’re capable of. And I don’t know how I can drill that into you. I don’t know to make you see yourself the way I see you. How your KIDS see you.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You mean with the sun shining out of my ass?”

“Yeah,” she manages a small laugh. “Just like that. Or through Addie’s eyes; shitting rainbows and glitter.”

“The day I shit rainbows and glitter IS the day I put a bullet in my head.”

“You have five kids that love you so much. Five beautiful, amazing kids. That YOU helped make. And they’re worth sticking around for, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are, baby. I didn’t really mean what I said. I’m frustrated and I’m in pain and I just want this shit to be over with. I just wanna go home.”

“I miss home,” she laments. “More than I thought it would. I miss it just being us and the kids. I miss the beach and sitting out there at night with you. I miss us. The us we were BEFORE all of this. When things were calm and we were happy and didn’t have to worry like this. I want that back. I want US back.”

“So do I, Esme. You have no idea how bad I want that.”

“It hurt,” she says, and nestles her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder, both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “Hearing you say what you did. That your kids would be better off without you. Because that’s so far from the truth. It would destroy them if something happened to you. And I would never forgive you if it was by your own hand. If you purposefully destroyed our children.”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. I just said it. It’s been a shit few days and I’m pissed off and I’m in pain and I feel like a weak, useless fuck. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He runs a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to her temple. “Last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

“I just need you to hang in there. In a few days, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll feel so much better and you’ll be ready to get back out there. You just need some time; to heal. You’re no good to anyone like this and you’re especially not good for yourself and you’ll put yourself in danger. You just need to spend a few days NOT worrying about the job. Just hanging out with me and the kids and letting everyone else figure shit out. It will be nice, don’t you think? Time with me and the kids?”

“Of course it will.”

“And I know you won’t stop thinking about it entirely. Because the threat is still out there. But you’ll get some time with your family. And it would do the kids a world of good having you here and I know it will do the same for you.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I don’t ever want to hear that kind of talk from you again. Saying we’d better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. You have no idea how loved you actually are. I’d give anything to take this all away. So your brain wouldn't be the way it is. I’d fix it in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would. And I AM sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was pretty fucking stupid; what I said.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “It was. But I know you’re hurting, Tyler. And not just physically. We should go on a trip; when all this is done. Just the two of us. Just get away for a week or two. No kids. Just adult time.”

“That could be our making number six time,” he muses.

“It could be. If number six wasn’t already on the way.”

His body freezes against hers. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you. Not until I had a doctor confirm it. But I was having all that PMS and it would go away and come back, go away, come back. Then I thought maybe I was just really stressed. Which I am. My stress level is the freaking roof. So when I started feeling sick and dizzy, I just thought that’s what it was. I mean, Addie’s only two and a half months and that would be really, really soon. But then again Millie was only two months when I got pregnant with the twins and…”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“I let on things were normal. That nothing was going on. Because home tests aren’t always accurate. We had HOW many negative tests with Declan? So I thought I’d just keep it quiet and go along with it whenever you talk about having another one. That I’d just wait until we got home and I’d go see the doctor. And I also figured you didn’t need anything else on your plate right now, so…”

“You’re not joking, are you.”

Esme shakes her head.. “I’m sorry. I should have told you before. But there’s never really been a good time to tell you. So I just kept it to myself and…”

“Baby…” his hands find her shoulders, and he pulls back to look at her. “...are you fucking serious right now?”

She nods.

“Things haven’t been reversed yet. How did it…?”

“Doctor mistake? You never went back to check if things were working. Or not working. Or whatever. You were supposed to go back but Addie came early so you never did. So we didn’t find out for sure if you were shooting blanks or not, so…”

“I just assumed I was. I didn’t have reason to think the doctor fucked up.”

Tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “You don’t really think that, do you? That this is a fuck up? I mean, you wanted another one, right?”

“I don’t mean a fuck up in that way. I mean the doctor fucked up. Hasn’t he done one of these before? How hard could it be? You go in and shit or whatever. How do you screw that up?”

“This is kind of your fault too. I notice you didn’t tell me that we should have been using protection for a few months. The doctor must have told you that. He had to have told you that.”

“I mean, he might have. I don’t remember for sure. I guess he could have said something and I just forgot.”

“Well…” she shrugs. “...surprise. You’re going to be a dad. Again.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t know how reliable the tests are here. I’m assuming they’re fine and it was two pink lines and we’re pretty much experts on what two pink lines mean. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. Like you’re getting ready to flip your shit. I know it’s not the right time. But it is what it is. We’re having a baby.”

“Jesus Christ…” Tyler breathes, then pulls her into his arms. One hand on the small of her back, the other buried in her hair. “...are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about this. About ANYTHING. We have this uncanny ability of making babies at the worst possible time. And if you don’t want it and you think we can’t handle it, then…”

“We can handle it. We’ve handled five before this. Millie didn’t come exactly at the right time either and we made that work. We found out about Addie in Ireland and that was pretty fucked up too.”

“You see why I need you around? THIS is why I need you. My kids need their dad. This baby needs you. I don’t want to do this without you, Tyler. We’re in this together. The two of us.”

“Well, actually, it’s three of us now, but…”

“Tell me this is going to be okay. That WE’RE going to be okay. That this baby will be okay. I need to hear you say it.”

He gives a small, reassuring smile. “The baby’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

It’s the first time arriving in Mumbai that he’s been that confident. About anything.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SMUT. NSFW. ASS PLAY.

She wakes to warm, soft breath on the back of her neck and a bulky, muscular arm wrapped securely around her. Some time in the very early morning hours he must have stirred; long enough to move onto his side and tightly tuck himself behind her. She’s missed this; the weight of his much heavier and stronger body pressed against her and those big, powerful arms with their scars and tattoos gracing smooth, tanned skin. The way she can feel his heartbeat against her back and each exhale of breath that tickles her shoulders and neck and flutters her hair. And his smell. It’s crisp and clean and reminds her of home; of the scent of the ocean and the fresh air that surrounds them. There’s nothing extraordinary or unique about it, but it’s HIM. It’s familiar and it’s comforting; clinging to his hair and his skin and his clothes. And it’s able to soothe her even on the roughest of days . Even when he’s away on a job and she’s in the midst of her most stressful and loneliest of moments it calms her; able to pull on one his shirts or sweater and bury her face in the fabric. Event the smallest of him able to queel the ache in her chest and those tears of panic and worry.

It’s there now. That smell. Lingering on his skin like a warm, comforting blanket. It’s been almost seven years and that scent has never changed and she never wants it to. It’s part of him. It IS him. And to her there’s no greater smell in the entire world. And he often laughs or rolls his eyes about it; amused when she continually buys that same shampoo and body wash and refuses to change the laundry soap. She doesn’t want it to be different. His smell is the one true constant, the one thing that’s always held firm and true even during his routine absences while in the game or even during their six month separation. His scent has always been around, even when he hasn’t. The thought of it one day evaporating is always too much to bear. Because if it’s gone...permanently gone...that means he is too. And there’s no thought that’s more terrifying or heartbreaking than that.

She wriggles closer to him; firmly pressing her back into his front and turning her face into the arm that is stretched out along her pillow. When they’d first met, there’d be no ink gracing the inside of his inner right bicep; just a handful of scars -some long jagged, some short and smooth- and a smattering of freckles. Now there’s two tattoos; the number of steps he’d taken on the Sultana Kamal Bridge and each of the kids’ initials and dates of birth; Addie being added only two days after she was born. She rests her cheek against his arm; relaxed and at rest, yet the muscle still hard and bulging under the skin. She hates the sight of the bruises; the damage caused by his assailant trying to pin him down by using his knees. They’re huge and fresh; deep purple and black and looking so painful. And she squeezes her eyes shut in an effort to hold back the tears that threaten; that powerful realization of just how close she’d come to losing such an enormous component of her life. She tries not to think about it. About how terrifying it all must have been for him. Things going so wrong, so quick. From being prepared to carry out what should have been a simple job -four people, four bullets- to fighting for his life. 

He’s been there before; on that bridge in Dhaka and during those hours of surgery and the week following when he was still in grave danger and all the doctors were telling her that he would be better off if he DID die. That there was no proof he’d ever regain consciousness or even breath on his own once he was brought out of the medically induced coma and weaned off the ventilator. That if things were successful and his body was strong enough to support itself, he’d likely have long term, life altering complication; side effects from lack of oxygen to the brain when he’d coded twice on the operating table. Outside of those five days in that dirty hotel room and the hours they’d spent on the streets running for their lives, she hadn’t really known him. Yet the thought of him dying had been terrifying. It had been heartbreaking; the thought of NOT getting the chance to spend time with him and get to know him and dig through the lawyers of bravado mixed with hurt and grief and guilt. She’d wanted to know the real Tyler Rake. Not the hardened mercenary with years of baggage weighing him down and the distrust and the regret that darkened his eyes. Who he was before life had jaded him; before he’d built all those walls up around him. 

But now...after seven years and having a life together and bringing five babies into the world...it’s overwhelming. Unable to stand the thought of him not being around. Not hearing his voice again or seeing his smile. Not tasting his kiss or feeling those callused hands on her body, or those strong, thick arms wrapping around her. The way his face softens when his children call him daddy and all those expressions that do far more speaking than any actual words do. 

He moves against her. Lips pressing against the nape of her neck and his hand sliding down to her stomach; resting firmly. And she can’t help but smile at that simple yet loving gesture. He’s already fiercely protective when there isn’t a baby on the way; when there is, he kicks it up a notch. Several notches, in fact. But it’s more than that. More than wanting and needing to keep her and the baby safe. It’s how soft and sweet he becomes; how even his voice and his eyes change. He’s always been that way; since they’d found out about Millie all those years ago and he’d put those big, strong hands on her ever growing baby bump and get the most satisfied, proud look on his face. In awe at the thought of there being a little human in there. That he’d help create a life when he’d been so close to his ending.

She turns her face into the arm across her pillow; pressing a kiss to the inside of his bicep, followed by the crook of his elbow. Then lays her palm against his and laces their fingers together.

“You okay?” Tyler’s voice is groggy from sleep, rumbling deep in his chest.

“Mm-hm. I wonder what time it is.”

“Must be pretty early; kids aren’t up yet. Why are you even awake?”

“I woke up feeling nauseous. But it’s gone away already. Why are you up?”

“Why do you think?” A chuckle reverberates against his back as he places a kiss to her shoulder.

“You know…” Esme giggles. “...the morning you don’t wake up that way is the morning I really worry about you. You’re going to be eighty and STILL waking up like that.”

“The day I stop waking up like this is the day you’re allowed to kill me. Do you want me to put that in writing?”

“Don’t be a whiner. Besides, when you’re sixty five, I’m going to start crushing viagra and hiding it in your food.”

“I WILL put a gun in my mouth if I ever need that shit.”

She laughs. “And you wonder where Millie gets her dramatic from?” She lays her hand over top the room he has resting on her stomach, then gives a long, content sigh when she feels him nuzzle the back of her neck with the tip of his nose. “You’re so warm. I missed this. Being like this with you. Just how warm and cozy and safe you make me feel. And your arms; I definitely missed being in your arms,”

“I definitely missed you being in them, that’s for sure. I missed a lot of things.”

“Yeah, you made that VERY obvious last night. The inside of my thighs have the bite marks and hickies to prove it.”

He grins against the back of her neck. “Sorry.”

“Bullshit. You’re not sorry at all.”

“And it’s not just THAT that I missed. Although that was pretty fucking amazing. It’s everything. It’s you. It’s everything about you.”

“You know, regardless of what you say and how much you hate hearing it, you have these moments where you’re just so soft and so sweet. And I’m lucky because you’re only like that with me. I’m the only that gets to this side of you. Everyone gets the OTHER you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that you. I just prefer THIS you sometimes.”

“Only for you, baby. Only you.”

“Did you sleep okay? Once you managed to get back?”

“Those meds you gave me knocked me the fuck out.”

“Hydromorph. I asked Anil’s doctor to give you something powerful like Oxy but not Oxy itself. It’s the strongest possible without having you admitted and put on some kind of drop. Just be careful, okay? They can be really addictive and the last thing you need is another drug you can’t kick.”

“Esme, I know you worry about me, and I love you so much for that, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to be THAT guy again. You don’t have to worry about that, alright? That’s the last thing you have to worry about.”

“Listen, after seven years, you think you’d realize that despite telling me not to worry, I’m still going to worry.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about THAT.” He uses the tip of his nose to move her hair away from her neck and shoulder, then presses a series or feathery kisses to both. 

“You know…” she says, as she squeezes his hand that rests on her stomach. “...there’s not going to be anything to feel for a while.”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s still a baby in there, yeah? How far along do you think?”

“Probably no farther than five or six weeks.”

“Just a little bean.”

She looks over her shoulder at him. . “Baby, you’re adorable”

He grins and places a kiss on her temple. “Shut up.”

“You are. You ARE adorable. It’s okay to be adorable, honey. You’re not less of a bad ass because of it. I know how tough you are. I know what you’re capable of. And I like that you can still be cute too. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you. One of the many things. Even in Dhaka. After we’d...you know…”

“Fuck?”

“To put it that way, yeah. Even then we’d talk and you’d tease me and say the cutest shit. That was when you'd let your guard down; when we’d lie there and talk. And you’d let me get a peek at what you were really like. What your HEART was like. Even then you were comfortable enough to be that way with me,”

“You’re the only I ever have been that way with.”

“Not even with your ex wife?”

“Not even with her.”

“Not even with your hoes in other places?”

“I didn’t have to talk much with them.”

“You’re making me feel all special and shit. That I’m the only one that’s ever made you made you feel that comfy.”

“You SHOULD feel special. Because it’s trust; even in Dhaka you managed. I don’t know it was like that, Whether it was just the way you are or you just fucked me so hard I lost all coherent thought and couldn’t function properly.”

“I must still be fucking you pretty hard because you’ve never regained coherent thought or proper function,” Esme teases.

Tyler grins, then presses a kiss to her ear. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“I know. I’m horribly mean to you. I’m a terrible wife. I have no idea why you stick around.”

“Well, you give really good head. And you let me do things to your ass, so…”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs, then turns her face into his and pecks his lips. “I don’t know how I put up with you. But I do. For some reason.”

“I can think of a couple.”

“A couple of non sexual things?”

He frowns. “Okay, that’s harder. I’m sure there’s a few things I do that keep you around. I mean, I get shit off the high shelves for you. And I’m the one that fishes the wayward socks out of the bottom of the washer.”

“You clean the bathrooms and take the garbage out,” she says. “And you get rid of the spiders and the snakes. All the important shit, basically. And you look damn good with your shirt off. Trust me, that helps.”

“See? I’m useful.”

“Very.” She speaks between kisses to his lupus. “You’re very useful. And you’re very adept at making babies. A little too adept at it, actually.”

“Got the snip and I STILL put one in you.”

She looks over her shoulder, staring at him pointedly.

“What?”

“I know what you’re going to say next. And I’m warning you right now, Tyler James. Don’t say it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. And I can see those wheels turning in your head and I know it’s right on the tip of your tongue.”

“Baby, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” she grumbles, but pecks his lips and then turns around once more; closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his bicep as it rests beside her head.

“It’s all the proof I need that I have super sperm.”

“Goddamnit!” She huffs and he chuckles against her shoulder. “I hate you so much sometimes. I mean, not really. I just hate when you say that. It drives me fucking insane.”

“Why do you think I say? I say it because I know it bothers you.”

“You’re evil,” she declares, then promptly bursts into a fit of exhaustion induced giggles. Which in turn makes him laugh even harder. “I love you,” she says. “I really do. So much. Everything about you.”

“I love you, too. Even when you’re a raging bitch and you say you hate me.”

“I was joking. I could never hate you. Ever.”

“Not even during those six months?”

“Not even then. I didn’t hate you. Tyler. I hate what was happening to you. To US. I didn’t like you very much and I was angry with you. But I didn’t hate you. I never could. I love you way too much. Did you ever hate me?”

“No. Not even for a single second. Was I pissed? Yeah. Was I hurt? Absolutely. But I was also drunk a lot and taking a lot of meds so I wasn’t exactly thinking right, was I? Had I not been that fucked up, I wouldn’t have been angry and I wouldn’t have blamed you for kicking my ass out. I would have realized I deserve it. That I was a fucking dick.”

“I’m not just talking about that. About kicking you out. I’m talking about what almost happened AFTER I did.”

“Baby…” he presses his lips against her cheek. “...that’s a long time ago.”

“Three and a half years is NOT a long time.”

“It is. Because that was a different life. A different time. And we got past it. All of it. So it WAS a long time ago.”

“I wanted to hurt you.” her voice quivers with emotion. “How horrible is that? That I actually wanted to hurt someone that I love more than anything or anyone else in the entire fucking world? How horrible am I?”

“Stop,” he gently orders, and tightens his hold on both her hands. “Just stop. It was a bad fucking time. I was messed up and I did shitty things and I said shitty things. I hurt you first. I’m definitely not innocent and it was definitely my fault things went so bad.”

“I was just so hurt and I wanted you to hurt too,” she continues. “You broke my heart, Tyler. You put them before us. Before your kids. And then the drinking and the meds and it was tearing us apart and ruining our family and you didn’t seem to give a shit. And that hurt. So I wanted you to hurt too.”

“Esme...stop…” He lifts his head from the pillows and kisses the corner of his mouth. “...I’m pretty sure this is your hormones doing this.”

“I’m sorry. That I wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“I would have deserved it.”

“No. You wouldn’t have. Not that. Definitely not THAT.”

“Well, It didn’t happen. So…”

“But it would have. If I didn’t smarten the fuck up right BEFORE it did.”

“But it didn’t. And you know what? Even if it did? We would have gotten past that too. So don’t do this, okay? None of that matters anymore. You’re working yourself up for nothing. I know you always go a little crazy when you’re pregnant, but..”

“I love you. So much. And I hate myself for almost doing that to you.”

“Well you didn't. And if you had, you had your reasons. Pretty damn good ones. But it’s all behind us and none of that shit matters anymore. And I love you. More than I ever thought I could ever someone. So please…” he presses a kiss to her temple. “...calm down, yeah? The baby needs you calm. Remember what the doctor said every other time ? About being calm and avoiding stress?”

“I’m married to a mercenary. How am I supposed to avoid stress?”

“The doctor doesn’t exactly know what I do for a living,” Tyler reminds her.

“He thinks you’re ex-military. Which isn’t exactly a life. You ARE. But I can’t tell him you’re a mercenary. You know how fast child protective services will be on our doorstep? And they won’t care what you’re like when you’re at home or happy the kids are. They’ll take them just based on your job alone.”

“I think you’re getting worked up over shit that you don’t need to worry about. So do me a favor and calm the fuck down. The shit your brain comes up with, I swear. I don’t know where it comes up with it or how, but fuck…”

“It’s definitely hormones.”

“You think? Shit.”

“Only time I was THIS hormonal this early was with the twins.”

“Jesus Christ,” he scowls. “Don’t say that. Please don’t.”

“What’s the chances, do you think? On another set? Two sets of twins in one family?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to think about it. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea of one. Don’t put the ‘t word’ out into the universe.”

She laughs at that. “You’ve been talking to Andy too much. That’s his thing. About how if you put something out into the universe, it actually happens.”

“He’s a good shit. Good guy to talk to.”

“I like that you have a friend. A NORMAL friend.”

“As opposed to…”

“Homicidal mercenaries. Andy’s about as far from that as it gets. I just like the idea of having a friend period. Someone that you can hang out with and talk to.”

“I hang out with you,” Tyler points out. “I talk to you.”

“I’m your wife.”

“You’re also my best friend.”

“Someone OTHER than me. You need that. A buddy. Someone can bitch about me with.”

“I bitch about you to your face. I don’t need a friend to bitch about you, trust me.”

She snorts. “You’re such a sweet talker. So romantic,”

“I saw the talking for dirtier times.”

Esme laughs. “Yes. You do. That’s when you do your BEST talking.”

“Yep,” he agrees. “And speaking of dirtier times…” the hand that was on her stomach slides up the front of his t-shirt and down the front of her sleep shorts.

She sighs dramatically. “You’re hopeless.”

“No. I’m horny.”

“So am I,” she admits.

“Yeah? Want me to do something about it?”

“I do, actually.” She rolls over onto her side to face him. “I DO want you to do something about it.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know…” she reaches up and pushes his hair off his forehead. “...I want you to be all bossy and aggressive and just pin me down and fuck me senseless.”

He grins broadly. “That’s the spirit.”

“I don’t know your body will let you though. You’re pretty hurting.”

“How about you let my body decide for itself and prove you wrong.”

“It has before. Many times. So what do you say?” She kisses his lips; drawing his bottom one between her teeth just as she tightly grips his cock through his boxer briefs. “Think you’re up to it?”

“I’m almost FULLY up to it.”

“Maybe YOU need some help.” Her fingertips graze against the skin just above the waistband of his shorts, then slide down the front of them, A satisfied, almost proud smirk playing on her lips when the simple brush of her palm causing his eyes to darken and a groan to rumble on his throat; hips jerking against her. “Very impressive, Tyler,” she says, and then grasps his hardening cock and swipes the pad of her thumb over the tip. “...I think you should put that to good use.”

“Oh I will. But I wanna do something first.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He grins, then roughly shoves her onto her back.

“I love when you get all aggressive and shit,” Esme declares, lifting her hips off the bed when he yanks her shorts down, enabling him to easily slide them over her ass. “It’s my favorite you. My favorite ‘sex you’ anyway.”

“Yeah, I found that out early. That first time in Dhaka. Didn’t take long to discover that.”

“You liked it. You liked that I let you be in charge and manhandle me.”

“I still do. So do me a favor. Don’t talk. Just lie there and let me eat you out.”

She grins. “You’re bossy.”

“I just know what I want.” 

He shoves her legs open; hand tightly gripping the backs of her thighs. Wasting no time as his mouth latches onto her pussy; pulling her clit between his lips and roughly suckling before pushing his tongue deep inside. Hands kneading and squeezing her thighs and then her ass as his tongue moves inside of her. Aggressively fucking her with with it until she’s squirming beneath him and lewd, pleasured noises spill from her mouth and her own hands slide up the front of her shirt. It’s a beautiful sight; eyes fixated on her as her hands firmly cup and massage her breasts and her fingers toy with her nipples; twisting and pulling and plucking at them. Her own eyes closed and her cheeks flushed and her entire body drawn impossibly tight. Crying out when his tongue slips from inside of her and concentrates on her clit; long, slow laps and then intricate circles made with the tip. His pace methodical and patient and nothing short of torture.

“More…” she pleads, as one hand reaches down to grasp at his hair and her hips lift from the bed; pressing her dripping pussy against his mouth. “...I need more.”

The movements of his mouth become. He’d long ago learned exactly what she likes, wants, and needs. Just how to move his tongue and how firmly to press it against the most sensitive spots; just how hard he can suck and how rough his teeth can bite down. It’s a turn on; her taste, her smell, the shuddering of her body and the sounds she’s making and the way she brings her hips up and fucks herself against his face. And his hands abandon her thighs; one moving between her legs as two fingers delve into her as far as they can do; turning his palm upwards so the tips of those digits can find and manipulate her g-spot. Never halting the movements of his lips and tongue; devouring her as if he’s a man condemned and he’s been given his very last meal. The fingers of his other hand push their way past her ass cheeks; the tips brushing against that tight, puckered hole.

“Don’t stop…” she begs. “...don’t stop...please...Tyler...don’t stop…”

Both his fingers and mouth become rougher. Greedy. And when he feels her lock up in places he never thought someone could lock up, he presses against the spot deep inside of her just as two fingers push their way into their ass; all the way to the third knuckle. That’s when her orgasm hits; entire body tensing and one hand still pulling at her nipples while a forearm covers her mouth in order to muffle that scream that erupts from it. Yet he doesn’t stop; continuing the licking and the sucking and the fingering -of both holes- until she comes again; even more powerful than the first.

He gives her little time to recuperate; hands on her hips and fingers digging into the flesh as he flips her over onto her stomach. A palm coming to rest on the small of her back when she attempts to push herself up onto her knees.

“Down,” he orders. “On your stomach.”

He uses his thighs to push hers open; knees holding them exactly where he wants them. Reaching around to grasp her lightly be the throat; a wrapping around his cock as he briefly rubs the engorged, weeping tip against her pussy before pushing into her ass instead.

“Fuck!” She cries out. “Tyler...fuck…”

“Is that ‘keep going’ or a ‘stop’?” He inquires. “Tell me what you want. You want me to stop?”

She shakes her head. “No...it’s okay...I think. It just hurts.”

“I can’t stop. I’m not going to force anything on you. You know that.”

“No. It’s okay. I’m fine. Just be careful. Please.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?”

She nods.

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not okay with this…”

“I’m okay,” she assures her. “I’m just...you’re...well you’re just really big.”

He grins. “Thanks.”

She manages a laugh. “And it’s uncomfortable but I don’t want you to stop at the same time. I’m not making any sense right now, I know. I just...I don’t know...don’t break me in half or anything like that.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “I’m not THAT good.”

“Yeah, you are, actually. Fuck…” her eyes squeeze shut when he pulls out completely. “...why’d you do that? I said I was fine.”

“I know. Just try and relax some more. It’s only going to hurt more than it should if you don’t relax.” He reaches between her legs to gather up some of that warm, slick fluid and then uses it to lubricate his cock. “Just breathe, okay? Just breathe and just relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll be gentle, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods, then buries her face in the sheets below when he presses into her once again; slower than before, giving her ample chance to adjust to him. A hand still wrapped around her throat; sweat beading across his brow and dripping down his temples. A low, feral growl escaping him when he buries himself completely.

“You alright?” He leans down to press kisses along her spine. “You good?”

“I’m okay,” she confirms. “It just feels...I don’t know...weird. I guess. In a good way.”

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you. And I love you. You trust me?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you do this if I didn’t.”

“I’m not gonna last long. You’re so right and you feel so fucking good.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you. I just...shit…” she whimpers when he pulls back slightly, then slowly sinks back in. “...fuck...Tyler...that feels so good….so fucking good.”

“You are so beautiful,” With one hand still on her throat, the other gathers up her hair and moves it away from her neck; lips travelling slowly along her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful and so fucking amazing and I love you so much.”

“Fuck me,” she pleads. “I need you to fuck me. Like this. Please. Just fuck me.”

He gives her what she wants. Dedicating himself to slow and deep thrusts that have her crying out into the mattress and her hands tightly fisting the sheets. Until she’s begging him for more; wanting it harder and faster. Her pleas not stopping until he’s quickened and deepened his pace and his balls are slapping against her ass and she’s reaching between her legs to rub frantically at her clit. 

Suddenly -without any warning- he’s thinking about it. That moment three and a half years ago when another man could have experienced this. When another man could have had his hands and his mouth on her. Could have been buried deep inside of her and fucking her into the mattress. He’s unable to stifle the rage that takes hold; that has his hand tightening around her throat as his movements become harder and faster. Punishing. Spurred on by the noises of pleasure she’s making and the way her hips move against his and match every thrust. Until she’s cumming for the third time that morning; screaming his name and shoving her ass back at him. And he pulls out of her when he reaches his own release; powerful enough to shake his entire body, painting the small of her ass and the small of her back with hot streams of cum. 

Neither of them speak. The hand around her throat relaxing and his eyes closing; chin to his chest and his heart pounding. 

He hates himself already.

****

They both doze; wrapped in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. And when he wakes once more, he’s on his side with her head tucked under his chin and her lips pressed against his throat, warm breath tickling his skin. And he runs a gentle palm over her head, combing his hand through her hair and letting the fine, silky, dark tresses slip between his fingers.

She yawns; her legs stretching out and her toes curling as her bare feet peek out from the bottom of the blanket. Pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple and then the underside of his chin before pulling back to look up at him; those eyes dark and loving and a soft, content smile curving her lips. 

“Hey,” she greets, and he kisses the end of her nose.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

He nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re lying on your bad shoulder.”

“It’s fine. For now.” 

“You’re so stubborn.” she sighs, then places her hands on the side of his face and kisses him; long and soft and sweet, body pressing against his. 

She feels so fucking good; breasts flattened against his chest, every curve of her body so smooth and supple, skin impossibly soft. The tip of her tongue grazing against the end of his just before she pulls away; his eyes never leaving her face; searching every of it as his fingers move through her hair.

“You okay?” he asks.

Esme nods. “A little sore,” she admits.

“Want me to get YOU some pain meds?”

She smirks. “I will punch you in the throat and not feel the least bit sorry for it.”

“You’re the one who said I was big.”

“Like you don’t know you are? Like you aren’t proud of it? How many times do you see your dick every day? You know you’re blessed. Don’t even try and deny it. It’s okay to be a bit cocky.”

“That’s a very interesting choice of words considering the subject. Cocky.”

“You are such a fucking ass sometimes!” 

“Wow, you’re on a roll today. Fucking ass? Considering you just let me…”

“I swear to God, I will kill you in your sleep,” she declares, and shoves him over onto his back. “And I’m fine,” she says, as she settles down on her stomach beside him, chin resting on his shoulder. “You were very gentle. And sweet. At first. I don’t know what happened at the end there. You went a little...I don’t know...off the reservation.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“I would have told you if it was THAT bad. I would have made you stop. It just surprised me. That you got like that. It wasn’t a horrible thing. It was just...unexpected.”

“I’m sorry,” he pushes his fingers into her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay. It just took me by surprise, that’s all. You just went from one extreme to the other. Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You didn’t. It was just my brain. Going somewhere it shouldn’t have. You know how it does that sometimes.”

She nods, and runs her knuckles along his jaw. 

“Want me to trim it?”

“I like it like this. When it gets really full and thick and it looks so dark. It’s very sexy. The hair though…”

“It’s exactly the way you like it. Top’s all grown in. Just gotta shave the back and the sides. I’ll be nice and let you do that for me.”

“It’s like Christmas! I get the full beard AND the old haircut? Not to mention three orgasms in one morning? You spoil me.”

“I try to. I try to be a good husband.”

“And you do a very good job. You’re a damn good husband. I think I’ll keep you.” She slides further up the bed; draping her arm along his collarbone and resting her forehead against the side of his head. 

“Thank you, by the way.” He places a kiss on her forehead and then wraps an around her, hand settling on the small of her back. “That's a really nice early anniversary present. I was not expecting you to go along with that.”

“I guess I was in a mood.”

“I guess so.”

“And it wasn’t an early gift. It was a ‘just because’ gift. You still have our anniversary to look forward to.”

“Twice? In one year?”

She nods.

“You are way too good to me.”

“Someone has to be,” she reasons, and nuzzles her nose against his ear. “Do you think we should tell anyone? About the baby?”

“Depends. Do you want to tell people?”

“I think we should wait. Until the second trimester. Because the last time something went wrong, we told people right after we found out I was pregnant. And that didn’t turn out so well, so…”

“Whatever you want, baby. We wanna wait, we wait. You wanna tell people, we tell people. I’m good with whatever.”

“You realize I’m not letting you leave this house now right? That you HAVE to stay? That I need you to stay?”

“I wasn’t going to leave anyway. I already made up my mind last night. When we talked about it. It made more sense; what you said. It is better...for all of us...if I stay here. I have more control here; I can keep an eye on you and the kids. And now? I especially need to keep an eye on you now.”

“I really love that you go all ‘protective daddy to be mode’, but you’re going to have to rein it in a bit if we’re not telling people. But thank you; for agreeing to stay here. I don’t want you out there. On the street. I didn’t want you out there to begin with. I especially don’t want it now that Mahajan has stepped things up. Every gun in Mumbai is pointed at you, Tyler. And being out there would be a disaster. So thank you, for staying here. Because in a way, I get to keep MY eye on YOU. You’re not the only one worries about the person you love, you know.”

He smiles and kisses her. “I know.”

“What do you want this time?” She asks. “A boy or a girl?”

“I just want a healthy baby. And a healthy momma.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because that’s all that really matters to me. Although, I have to admit, I DID want a boy the second time.”

“And you ended up with two.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “I did. And they’re pretty fucking awesome.”

“Well their dad’s pretty fucking awesome, so…” she pecks his lips. “...I think I want another girl.”

“Well the hell would you wish that on me?”

“What are you talking about? You’re an amazing girl dad.”

“Doesn’t mean I want another. Girls are way worse than boys. The boys have been easy compared to Millie.”

“I won’t deny that. But, there is already way too much testosterone in our house. I mean, you alone have enough for the entire New South Wales area. Do we really have to add another one to the mix?”

“Maybe it will be two. One of each.”

“Now it’s my turn to tell you to shut up.”

He gives a small chuckle, then presses a kiss to her brow before she settles her head against his shoulder. “I need to ask you something. And I don’t want you flipping your shit on me. It’s just something I want to know. That I NEED to know.”

Her fingers fidget with the chain around his neck. “Okay…”

“I want to know who it is.”

“Who who was?”

“The guy. When we split up. I wanna know who it was.”

She raises her head to look at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Why are we talking about this? When I brought it up, you were the one who said it didn’t matter. That was years ago and we put it all behind us. Those were your exact words . So why are you even bringing it up again?”

“I want to know who it was.”

“Why? Why do you want to know?”

“You don’t think I should know who my wife almost fucked?”

“Almost. That’s the key word. Almost. It never happened. So why the hell does it matter who it was? Nothing happened. Or are you suggesting that it did and I’m lying about it. Is that what you’re doing? You think something DID happen. You think I cheated on you.”

“No. I don’t think that. I know you didn’t.”

“I told you when we got back together. About that night. I was honest with you. I told you exactly what happened and what went down. And you were okay with it. You said you believed me.”

“I do believe you.”

“Then what the fuck? You’re bringing this up now? After you told me NOT to talk about it. Have you been thinking about it all this time? Since I brought it up? Were you thinking about when we were…” her eyes narrow. “...oh my god. You were. You WERE thinking about it then. That’s why you got the way you did. You let it into your head and it pissed you off and you wanted to punish me, didn’t you. That’s why you got as rough as you did. It was to punish me.”

“That wasn’t…”

“Bullshit. It was. You don’t think that after seven years, that I don't know how you work? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. I know what you get like; when you get pissed off and you need to take it on someone. And that someone is usually me. You were punishing me. Because you didn’t like thinking about me with someone else.”

“You blame me?”

“Yeah, I do. Because you never let shit go. It’s totally okay that I have to think about your past and all the women you fucked. Including Nik, who, I might add, you asked to come here and keep an eye on me and your kids despite all the damage she caused. Despite the fact she has spent six and a half years trying to wreck our marriage and break our family apart and fuck you every chance she could. Yet she’s still here, isn’t it. You put her right in my fucking face. You didn’t think that would bother me? You think I’d just get over everything she did? It was her fucking fault I even lost that baby. And yet here she is. And here you are acting like I’m supposed to just get over and kiss her ass.”

“Okay, calm down. Just…”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down. I told you about that guy. As soon as I let you back in the house and we agreed to work on things. I told you about him and you were fine with it. You said you believed me.”

“I do. I do believe you. I don’t think anything happened. Well, nothing more than what DID happen.”

“Then what does it matter? Who the fuck cares who it was?”

“I fucking care!” He snaps. “I fucking care who it was!”

“Why? Give me one good reason why it matters to you? So you can hold it over my head for the rest of my life?”

“I would never...ever...do that.”

“You’re doing it right now! That’s exactly what you’re doing! I didn’t do anything wrong. We were split up. You fucked things up, remember? You put the job and the booze and the drugs before your family and I wasn’t putting up with that shit and I kicked your ass out. And what did you do? Instead of fighting to get your family back? You just drank more and took more meds and fucking wallowed in your self pity and your own self hate while I was raising your fucking kids!”

“Settle down, okay?” He takes her face in his hand. “Please. Just settle down. I need you to settle down.”

“You could have come home. You could have decided we were worth more to you. But you didn’t. You got worse and worse and started taking the worst possible jobs you could. The more dangerous, the better, right Tyler? That was what you were thinking. Instead of getting over your shit and getting your family back, you became the guy you were before we met.”

“That’s not true. That’s not what was I doing. That’s not what…”

“That’s exactly what you were doing!” She shoves his hands away. “Where were you? You could have fought for us. You could have fought for me. And you didn’t.”

“What did you want me to do?”

“I wanted you to love me enough to fight for me! I wanted you love me enough to say ‘fuck the job, fuck the booze, fuck the meds’ and come home and make things right. And you didn’t. You just got worse. What did you want me to do? Come begging on my hands and knees? Is that what you wanted?”

“No, baby. That’s not what I wanted.”

“You put me in the worst possible fucking situation. I was raising three kids on my own. I was the one they cried to when you were too drunk to show up to visit them. You put that all on me. And you have the nerve to ask me who some guy was that I could have fucked and didn’t? Fuck you, Tyler. I don’t owe a name. Or a face. I owe you shit.”

“Please…” both hands tightly grip the back of her head and he rests his forehead against her. “...just calm down, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. Cause this. That’s not what I was trying to do. Just calm down. For the baby.”

“Nothing happened. Between me and that guy.”

“I know.”

“Do you know? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you believe me?”

He pulls back to look at her. “I believe you, Esme. I’ve always believed you.”

“If I tell you what happened, you have to promise me you’ll let it go. That you’ll put it behind us. Promise me, Tyler. That if I tell you…”

“DID you fuck him?”

“No. But there’s more to it than you think. That I didn’t tell you before because I knew you’d snap and I knew you’d hunt him down and beat the shit out of him and quite possibly kill him and I didn’t want you doing that.”

“Esme...what the fuck...?”

“It wasn’t anyone you know. It was someone from the daycare Millie and the twins were in.”

“A worker? There was like one guy that worked and I’m pretty sure he was gay because he used to come onto me all the time. Unless it was one of the girls and…”

“It was a dad. From the daycare. A single dad.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t know him. He was a cop. That’s all I’m going to tell you about him. You don’t need to know his name or what he looked like or anything like that. I just need you to listen. I need to tell you the whole truth. Can you do that? Just listen?”

He nods.

“He asked me out and I said yes. Because I was pissed off and I was lonely and I wanted…I don’t know...I guess I wanted someone to want me. To look at me and tell me I was beautiful and desirable and all that shit. That’s what I wanted. Attention. What woman doesn't? And I wanted it from you and I wasn’t going to get it because of how fucked up things were. So he asked me out and I went. Because I needed that. I wanted someone to want me.”

“I wanted you. I wanted my wife.”

“And when you didn’t fight for me, that just pissed me off more and it made me want all that attention even more. So I went out on a date. And that’s all it was supposed to be. But I was drinking and he was drinking and everything coming out of his mouth sounded so good and I was falling for it and believing him and…”

“Jesus fuck, Esme.”

“...and I was going to go through with it. I was. Or I thought I was.”

“Where? In our bed?”

“What? No. I could never do that, Tyler. Ever. No. It wasn’t at the house. It was at his place.”

“You went to his place?”

“Like I said, I was drinking and I was enjoying the attention and believing all the shit he was saying and…” she pauses, taking in a gulp of breath. “...and I was going to do it and I changed my mind. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was in love with my husband and he was the only man I wanted and I was hoping things would work out. And he didn’t like hearing that. I mean, he REALLY didn’t like hearing that. And he got pissed and started freaking out and trying to do things to me…”

“Esme...please tell me he didn’t…”

“He didn’t. I punched him in the face. And kicked him in the nuts. Then I left. The next time I saw you...when you got back from Panama... I had that bruise on my face…”

“The one you told me you got when Millie accidentally kicked you.”

“That’s the worst he did. But I didn’t want you to know the truth because I thought you’d hate me. I already thought you hated me. And I was still in love with you and I was still hopeful that you’d get your shit together and come home. That’s why I lied to you; about the bruise. And about why I took the kids out of the daycare. I said it was because of staff cuts and money issues and that’s not what it was. It was so I didn’t have to see that guy ever again.”

“Baby…” he lays a hand on the back of her head, drawing her face down into his shoulder. “...it’s okay…”

“I’m sorry. That I lied to you. I wanted to tell you everything. But I didn’t want you to hate me. I was worried if I told you, you’d never come home and I wanted you to come so bad. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I would never have hated you.”

Her hands cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. “I wanted you to fight for me and you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I was a mess. I was a fucking mess and I was weak and I didn’t know what to do.”

“When you did come home and we started working on things I didn’t tell you the whole story because I knew how mad you’d get it and I knew you’d find out who it was and that you’d track him down and you’d beat the shit out him.”

“I would have done more than beat the shit out of him.”

“And that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted to forget about it. And I knew you wouldn’t let it go. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me. I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Why would I leave? I was home. That’s where I wanted to be. With you. With my kids.”

“I thought you wouldn't believe me. I thought for sure you’d think I DID sleep with that guy and then you’d hate me and leave me and never come back. I’m sorry, Tyler. That I ever even went anywhere with that guy. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“It’s alright, baby. It’s alright. I never would have hated you and I never would have left. I would have believed you. Just like I believe you now. It’s okay…” he cradles her face in his hands, lips pressed against her forehead. “...you’re okay.”

“Are we okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I thought you’d be angry. At me.”

“I have no reason to be angry. And I’m sorry. That I was such a fuck up back then. I wanted to come home. I did. But I was a mess and you didn’t deserve that and neither did the kids. And yeah; maybe I did take jobs hoping they’d kill me. I already thought I’d lost everything. I didn’t think it mattered if someone put a bullet in me.”

“It would have mattered to me. And your kids. I just wanted to get your shit together and come home. And it never seemed to matter to you how much I begged and pleaded with you. It never got through. And I wish none of this ever happened. I’m sorry. That things got THAT bad.”

“I’m the one that’s sorry. It was my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me.”

“Can you put it behind us now? Now that you know the whole truth? Can we let it go? Can YOU let it go?

He nods.

“I love you. So fucking much. You have no idea. You really don’t.”

“I love you, baby..,” he uses his thumbs to clear away the tears that glisten under her eyes and on her cheeks. “...I always have. I always will.”

She kneels in front of him and wraps both arms around his neck, squeezing as tight as she possibly can.

“It’s alright." He runs his hands up and down her back and kisses the side of her neck. “Everything’s alright now.”

“No. It’s not. My ass is still sore.”

He can’t help but laugh at that.

“And you wonder why I only give in once a year.”

“I’m sorry that my dick is THAT big.”

“Ninety nine percent of the time, I think it’s a blessing. This is the one percent of the time it’s not. I’m going to take a bath. Are you okay with the kids? Your body can hang in there? You’re not in too much pain?”

“I’m okay. I’ve been in worse pain. You’ve seen me a lot worse off.”

“Yeah, I have. And I don’t want to see it again. Promise me you’ll stay here. With us. Because we need you here. I NEED you here.”

“I promise,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	66. Chapter 66

“Do you know that Saju was a real person?”

Millie’s eyes are blown wide with a mixture of fascination and disbelief as she lies next to him in bed; on her side with her body tucked securely against his. When he’d woken up, the three oldest had been gathered around him. Fast asleep and somehow making an enormous double king feel impossibly small; effectively trapping him within its confines with one child pressed against his back and another his stomach, and the third curled into a ball, placed directly at the back of his knees. It had been slightly cramped and awkward but oddly soothing at the same time. The tickle of their skin and hair against bare flesh, the slight yet comforting weight of little arms draped over him and the feel of their bodies rising and falling with each inhale and exhale of breath. 

There’s not much in Tyler’s life that he’s proud of. The job isn’t exactly a career that fills you with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment and the baggage he carries from past mistakes and bad decisions is often overwhelming and exhausting. But those kids...HIS kids...so innocent and beautiful and pure with their unwavering faith and trust in him...are the only things that DO fill him with pride. Knowing that someone like him -with a lifetime of trauma, regret and guilt- could actually have had a hand in creating something so incredible. That somewhere along the line he MUST have redeemed himself. How else would he be worthy enough to be a dad again? To be given that that second chance after fucking it so badly the first time?

“I do,” he confirms. “I do know that.”

Millie rolls over onto her back, settling into the crook of his arm. Fingers fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist as he wraps an arm around her, hand resting lightly on her stomach. “Do you know that he was Anil’s big brother?”

Tyler nods.

“Anil said that Saju...the real Saju...used to take care of Ovi because Ovi’s dad had to go away for a long time. Ovi didn’t have a mommy?”

“His mommy died when he was little. Very little. Just a bit older than Declan.”

“Oh no…” she pouts, and her eyes fill with tears. “...poor Ovi’s mommy. And poor Ovi. I’d be so sad if my mommy died. I’d miss her so much.”

“Your mom’s not going anywhere,” Tyler assures her, and tightens his hold on her and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “So don’t worry about that. Don’t even think about it, okay?”

Millie nods. “Where did Ovi’s dad go? And why does he have to be gone for so long?”

“Not all dads are good dads. Or good people,” he explains. “He did some bad things and he had to pay for those bad things.”

“The police took him away? And put him in jail? That’s where they go right? When the police catch them.”

“Yep.”

“What did he do that was so bad?”’

“Things you don’t need to know about.:

Millie frowns. “How come there’s so many things you say I don’t need to know about?”

“Because you’re six and I’m your dad, and you’re still little enough where I get to decide what you need to know. And you don’t need to know these things.”

“Did he kill people?”

“Amelia…”

“Daddy…”

“You don’t need to know. It’s adult stuff. He’s in jail and he’s there for a reason.”

“Are you going to jail for killing people? I don’t want you to go to jail. I’d miss you.”

“I’m not going to jail,” Tyler assures her. “What I do? That’s totally different.”

“Because those people deserve it? The ones you kill? They deserve to die?”

“Exactly.”

“‘Cause they’re bad.”

“Very bad.”

“Not like jaywalking or littering but really, really bad. Like kick puppies bad.”

“Even worse than kicking puppies.”

Her eyes widen. “Kicking little kids?”

“Worse.”

“Holy shit! That’s really, really, really, REALLY bad. No wonder you kill them. I’d want to kill them just for kicking puppies, to be honest. Anyone kicks Saju...MY Saju...I’m head butting them in the nuts.”

“I don’t know about heat butting someone THERE, but…”

“I know you said never to hit a boy there, but they deserve it if they kick Saju. And I’m telling you right now, if any boy ever gets mouthy with him or gets touchy with me even when I tell him no, I will rip his balls off.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, and he’s grinning as he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Atta girl. That’s what I want to hear.”

“Were you and Saju friends?” Millie inquires. “The real Saju?”

“Sort of, I guess.”

“Anil said that he helped you save mommy and Ovi. Is that true?”

“That’s true.”

“So he was a good guy then?”

“In the end he was. We didn’t get along at first. We had a big fight.”

“Like fighting with words?”

“The other kind of fighting.”

“Did you beat him up?”

“It’s pretty safe to say we beat each other up. He was tough. Strong. Never gave up. He had to do things to protect his wife and his little boy. Trying to hurt me was one of those things.”

“So you weren’t mad at him?”

“Not at the end. Not when I found out why he was doing the things he was. He was doing them for his family. I totally understand that; I’d do the same thing if it were you guys. Nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure you’re all safe.”

“That’s why we ended up here. So the bad couldn’t get to us. And I kept my promise. I never told Tanner or Tyler what I know. I don’t want them to be scared. They’re my little brothers.”

“Are YOU scared?”

“Not really. Because you’re here. I’m never scared when you’re around.”

Those words are so simple yet manage to hit so powerfully and deeply; her blind faith and trust in him both a blessing and a curse. And he can’t stop the tears that well in his eyes and kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her even tighter; eyes closing and chin resting on the top of her head.

“Daddy?”

“Millie?”

“How did you and mommy meet? If she lives all the way in Colorado and you always lived in Australia, how did you meet her? Was she on a trip? Is that how?”

“Auntie Nik introduced us.”

“But how? How did she do it if you guys lived so far apart? I know that you met mommy where you used to live. Where Koen lives now. But I don’t understand how mommy ended up there. That’s what I want to know?”

“Why DO you want to know?”

“Because I do. Because I like knowing things. And I like hearing about you and mommy and how you met and what you guys were like before I came along.”

“We were pretty much like we are now. And Auntie Niuk brought her to my place because she had a job for us to do. Together.”

Millie’s eyes widen. “Mommy kills people too?”

“Not that is NOT what I said. Mommy’s crazy smart, right?”

“Right.”

“And I’m crazy strong, yeah?”

“Yup.”

“So Auntie Nik wanted us to work together because your mom could use her brains to find the bad guys and then I could use my strength to punish them. Understand?”

“So mommy helped you catch them?”

“Basically.”

“Oh, okay…” she runs her fingertips over the bracelet that matches the much smaller one on her own wrist. “Where’s Dhaka?”

Tyler frowns. “What do you know about Dhaka?”

“I know you and mommy went there. I know that’s where you almost died. I know things, daddy. I hear things.”

“It’s not nice to eavesdrop, you know.”

“It’s not my fault Uncle Koen talks so loud. Is it true that it was Ovi you and mommy had to get from the bad guys?”

“Yes. It’s true.”

“He was just a little boy then?”

“A teenager. Fourteen. The bad guys took him. To Dhaka.”

“Where is that?”

“Bangladesh.”

“Where’s that? Is it far from here? I want to go there.”

“It’s about two hours from here if you fly. And no. You don’t. You don’t want to go there.”

“And is it true that you and mommy had to pretend to be married?”

“That’s true too.”

“Kinda funny that you had to pretend at first but then got married for real. Is that because you found out you loved her? Is that when you fell in with her? Is Dhaka the place?”

“I guess that’s where it started. I didn’t fall in love with her right away. I know that I liked her. A lot.”

“And you thought she was pretty?”

“I thought she was REALLY pretty.”

“And she thought you were cute and had really nice eyes and big muscles.”

He chuckles. “Apparently.”

“Daddy…” she rolls over onto her stomach, elbows on the bed and her chin in her upturned palms. “...can I ask you something?”

“I don’t see why not. You’ve been asking me things for the last half hour.”

“Is that where I ended up in mommy’s tummy? In the Dhaka place?”

“Yep. That’s exactly where it happened.”

“But you guys didn’t know each other that well. So how did I end up in there? How’d you and mommy end up making me if you didn’t know each other that well? If you didn’t love her yet? Isn’t that how babies are made? ‘Cause mommies and daddies love each other?”

“Sometimes, yeah. But your mom and I really liked each other and some things happened and well, here you are.”

“Hmmm…”

“What’s that mean?” He reaches across his body with his free arm; combing his fingers through her unruly hair. “What does ‘hmmm’ mean? That doesn’t sound like a good ‘hmmm’.”

“But you and mommy love each other now, yeah?”

“Of course we do. I love your mommy very much.”

“And all of my brothers and Addie came ‘cause you love each other, right?”

“Love is part of it, yeah.”

“So does that mean I’m not as special as them? ‘Cause you didn’t love mommy when I was made? Does that mean I'm not as good as everyone else?”

Tyler scowls. “No, That’s not what it means at all. Why would you even think that? Hey…” he hooks a finger under her chin and gently tilts her face up towards him. His heart aching when he sees the tears that fall from those huge blue eyes. “...what’s wrong? Tell me. Talk to me.”

“If you didn’t love mommy when I was made, does that mean I’m not as special as everyone else?”

“This NOT what it means. At all. Why…”

“Is there something wrong with me? Does it mean I’m different? Everyone else came ‘cause you loved mommy and I came because...I don’t know...I don’t know why I came.”

“Babies don’t always come because people love each other. Sometimes they just happen. And you...well...you just happened. And you happened for a reason. For a VERY good reason. Probably the best reason.”

“Yeah?” She sniffles. “What’s that?”

“Because your mom was the first person...in a long time...that made me feel like a good guy. I was in a bad, horrible place in my head and I was doing bad things trying to hurt myself because I thought I deserved to hurt. And then I met your mom and she was different than anyone else I’d met before her. She didn’t look at me like I was a bad person and she didn’t make me feel like one, either. So yeah, I didn’t know her that well when you were made. But I did know that she was pretty freaking amazing and that she made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a long time. I was broken and I was empty and your mom fixed those things. And I LET her fix them. You’re here because of that. Because your mom made me feel human again and made me feel like I deserved to be here. And because she looked at me like I was the most incredible guy in the entire world. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so.”

“You’re because you were meant to be here. You’re my second chance. My new life. That all started with your mom AND you. Don’t you think that’s pretty awesome? In a way, you’re the reason that all your brothers and Addie are even worse. If your mom never had you, there’s a chance I never would have seen her again. And I wouldn’t have the life I have now. And it’s an amazing life. A life that started with you. So you ARE special. Very, very special. In a way everyone else isn’t. Am I making sense?”

She nods.

“You have no idea how much I love you. How every day I think about how lucky I am that you’re even here. And how I’m really only here because of you. That’s pretty surreal, yeah? Don’t cry…” he uses his thumbs to clear away the tears that glisten on her cheeks and the sides of her nose. “...there’s no reason to cry, baby girl.”

“It made me sad to think that you didn’t love mommy when I was made.”

“Well, maybe my heart loved her but my brain didn’t realize it yet. Or it was scared to admit it. I’d be pretty stupid NOT to love her, right?”

“Right.”

“Don’t ever think there’s something wrong with you. Ever. Because you’re beautiful and you’re smart and you and your mom are the only reasons I’ve made it this far. So don’t ever doubt how much I love you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tyler gathers her into a strong, comforting embrace and pulls her on top of him; a hand on the back of her head as she wraps both arms around his neck and nestles her face into his shoulder. Stroking her hair and then her back, until her sniffling finally subsides and her body stops trembling against him. “What do you want to do today?” he asks, coming his fingers through thick, messy hair. 

“I don’t know. Something fun. Something that won’t hurt your arm or your leg more. Mommy says we have to be careful ‘cause you’re trying to get better.”

“Your mommy is a pretty smart lady.”

“And she loves you. A lot. She gets sad when you get hurt. And she gets pissed off too. At the people who hurt you. I wouldn’t want to mess with her. She’s small, but she could really do damage.”

“She’s probably the toughest person I know.”

“Maybe we can go swimming,” Millie suggests. “And see the animals. It’s fun to watch when they get fed. Some of them we’re allowed to feed. The sloth is super cool. He likes me and he’s so cute and it feels weird when he crawls all over me. And there’s lots of snakes too, but mommy won’t take me to see them because she’s too scared. Maybe you can take me.”

“I’ll take you. And we’ll go swimming. You know what I want to do first though?”

“What?”

“Eat. I’m starving.”

“Me too. I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass out of a dead hippo.”

Tyler grins. “I thought it was a rhinoceros?”

“I changed it ‘cause I like hippos better.” She raises her head to look at him, hands coming to rest on the sides of his face. “Your beard is scratchy.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No. I do. It’s how I know you. That’s how you’ve always looked. Even when I was really little.”

“Even when you were a baby. Even before then. It’s how I looked when I met your mom.”

“Mommy’s never seen you without it?”

“Nope. I’ve always had it. Never got rid of it because she likes it.”

“You’d look weird without it.”

He smirks. “You’re a little savage.”

“Not weird in a bad way. Weird as in different. You wouldn't look like daddy anymore. I want you to look like daddy. Not like some stranger. I don’t like that idea.”

“Well, just for you, I’ll keep it. Just trim it if it gets too messy.”

“It makes your face look nice.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “You’re kinda cute, daddy.”

“Just kinda?”

“Well, lots of cute. I see the way girls look at you. I don’t like it though. I don’t want them looking at my dad like that. ‘Cause you’re with mommy and I don’t want you leaving mommy for some trifling hoe.”

He laughs. “Where do you learn that?”

“I heard it on TV. When Ovi was watching us last time. You’re not going to leave mommy for some trifling ass hoe, are you?”

“I’m never leaving your mommy for anyone. She’s stuck with me. She’d have to get rid of ME.”

“Mommy wouldn’t. She loves you too much. Even when you make her mad or annoy her. And I’d really hurt you if you left mommy. Just so you know.”

“You would, would you?”

“Yep. I love you daddy, but that’s my mom. And no one hurts my mom. Not even you.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” he assures her. “I’d never hurt your mom. Ever.”

“Good,” Millie says, and settles her head on his shoulder. “I’d be super sad if you and mommy ever broke up. Who would I live with?”

“You worry way too much about things that are never going to happen. Mommy and I are in this together. We’re a team. Nothing’s going to change that. Unless SHE finds someone else.”

“Never gonna happen,” Millie declares. “You guys are stuck with each other.”

“Yeah,” he grins, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “We are.”

****

“Are you trying to give me more gray hair?” Esme inquires, and slaps him across the back the long forgotten and discarded sling.

It’s been both an enjoyable and tiring morning and early afternoon; an enormous -and fantastically prepared and presented- breakfast followed by hours in the pool and time spent with the animals. Helping the kids feed the smaller and less dangerous ones and listening to the keeps share stories and tips on caring for what the rest of the world considers exotic creatures. Allowing the kids to pet and hold the snakes the handlers brought out of their enclosure; smiling at their bright, wide eyes wonder as the reptiles slithered around their necks and across their shoulders and coiled themselves around their arms. Even Tanner stepped out of his comfort zone; scared and nervous at first but quickly and easily soothed by his father’s steadfast presence. 

Now the kids sit on the grass in the shade of many trees that line the property. Eating lunch and listening intently as one of the many nannies attempt to give them Hindi lessons.

“Not intentionally, no. Why?”

“You should be wearing this.” She drops the sling onto the concrete that surrounds the pool, then sits down beside him and places her feet in the water.

It’s their first real ‘alone’ moment since he’d rolled out of bed. They’d done the proverbial ‘kiss and make up’ after the early morning fight; taking advantage of all the kids sleeping and the obnoxiously big infinity tub in the ensuite bathroom. It had been intense yet gentle; long, slow kisses and patient, unhurried hands roaming each other’s bodies under the layers of thick, fragrant soap suds. Worshipping every inch of her; letting his attentive touches and slow, controlled movements do all the talking for him. All the apologies and all the professions of love and those confessions of darkest worries and worst fears. How scared he is of losing her; of somehow screwing up and having her slip permanently out of his grasp. The one person who’d dragged him out of the deepest, darkest recesses of hell and made him feel alive again. Who’s never looked at him with pity and never saw him as broken beyond repair.

“It’s been feeling pretty good,” he says, as he holds Addie securely under arms, repeatedly dunking her into the water. It’s a slow and careful progression, starting at her toes and then making it all the way up to the small of her back. There isn’t even the slightest hint of fear or nervousness; trusting him wholly and completely even at that young of an age. And he can never quite get over how perfect she is. How beautiful with those freckles across the bridge of her nose and that abundance of dark hair and those enormous, dark eyes that never leave his face. And that smile; so pure and so genuine that it nearly takes his breath every time he sees it.

“How about I punch you in the dick and you tell me how THAT feels?” Esme retorts.

He smirks. “Are you in a bad mood? Something tells me you’re in a bad mood.”

“I am so nauseous,” she says with a grimace. “And I’m frustrated. Because of your stubborn ass. Are you not supposed to be wearing that all the time? Aren’t you supposed to keep it on until you go to bed? I’m pretty sure that is what the doctor said.”

“And I’m pretty sure I know my own body.”

“I’m not trying to be nag. I’m really not. I’m just trying to take care of you. But for some reason, you won’t let me.”

“I let you take care of me last night. When I woke up all fucked up from that dream.”

“That’s different, and you know it. You’re here to recuperate. Well, that’s what you were originally here for anyway. How are you going to recuperate when you won’t do what the doctor says? That’s all I want; for you to get better.”

“I know.” He leans a shoulder into her, then takes his eyes off Addie momentarily as he pressures a kiss to his wife’s temple. “When I’m done here, I’ll put it back on. Okay?”

She nods, then manages a small smile. It fucking destroys him inside; that darkness and uncertainty -and fear-, in those normally sparkling, playful eyes and the absence of any shred of REAL happiness. He knows the difference; when she genuinely content and when she’s doing nothing more than putting on a brave face for everyone around her. He’d seen a glimmer of it this morning. When he’d first woken up and their conversation had been lighthearted, their banter playful, and the kisses they shared tender and loving. Her eyes had been lighter then; glittering in the sunlight that streamed through the bedroom windows. But then it all gone to hell. His own brain both betraying and getting the better of him. And he’d gone ahead and ruined the best morning he’d had in a hell of a long time.

“I remember when you used to do that with Millie,” she recalls. “When we stayed at Mahajan’s. You would take her right in or you’d sit with her on the edge just like that. She used to love it too. And she’d look at you that exact same way. Just idolizing you and adoring you and trusting you.”

“Remember when we used to take Millie to the beach? I think she was only two weeks when we first went. Even then she was fearless; not scared of the water one bit.”

“They’re a lot alike. Addie and Millie. I know babies don’t have much in the way of personality this early, but Millie was full of it right from the start. So is Addie. Not to mention they both have you completely wrapped around their little fingers.”

He grins. “I don’t know, babe. I think you achieved that first. You had me wrapped around yours long before either of them came along.”

“Only took you almost seven years to admit,” Esme laughs, then runs a hand down the back of his head and pecks his cheek; an arm curling around his waist and the side of her resting against his shoulder. “We’re okay, right?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

She shrugs. “I want us to be okay.”

“We are. But we’re also going through a pretty hard, shitty, scary time. We’re going to be irritated and we’re going to snap at each other. It’s inevitable. But that’s not on us. It’s what’s going on around us.”

“I worry that one day we’re going to fight and there will be no way of fixing things,” she admits. “No way of fixing US.”

“That’s not going to happen. I love you too much to EVER let that happen. You really think you can get rid of THAT easy?”

“I don’t want to get rid of you at all,” she says. “And I’m sorry. That I said the things I did. They were harsh and you didn’t deserve that.”

“You know what? I did deserve it. Because a lot of the time I forgot just how much I DID hurt you. And I’m the one that’s sorry; that I didn’t clean myself up and get my shit together and fight for us. And I wanted to; I wanted to fight. But I was weak and I was a coward and running away when things got tough was what I did. And I AM sorry; for hurting you the way I did. But I never stopped loving you. Or wanting you.”

Tears pool in her eyes. “I want to say it’s my hormones making me cry, but I think it’s actually you. And not bad crying, either. Just when you say things like that...I don’t know...when it comes from you...someone LIKE you...it hits in a way it wouldn’t anyone else. And I didn’t mean to hurt you; by saying the things I did.”

“I know, baby. You needed to say it and I needed to hear it. It’s okay.” He places a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Everything’s okay now. Now we CAN put it behind us. For good. Right?”

She nods.

“So stop, okay? Stop beating yourself up over shit. I do enough of that for the both of us, trust me.”

“I’m worried,” she admits.

“About what?”

“You. The kids. This baby.” One of her hands falls to her stomach. “I’m worried and I’m scared. I don’t want anything happening. To you, to our family, to little bean. And I can just feel all the stress and all the fear and I’m worried it’s going to get worse and it’s going to happen again. I can’t lose this one, too. I don’t know if I could go through that again. It’s already happened twice; once with you, once with Mark. What if there’s something wrong with my body? What if…?”

“You’re getting worked up over nothing. We have five kids. And yeah; Addie was early and Tanner had his issues, but they both made it. They’re here. There’s nothing wrong with your body. What happened, happened. And that’s why I want you to stay calm. Because honestly? I don’t think I could go through that again either.” He doesn't remember a time where something hurt THAT bad. A pain unlike anything -both mentally and physically- that he’d ever experienced before. Even with Austin it had been different; he’d at least gotten to spend six years with him. But losing a kid that you never even got the chance to meet? Who never even got to take a single breath? Nothing is harder to grasp than that,

“I know it was hard on you,” she says. “And I wish I could have been there for you like you were for me.”

“Esme, you HAVE been there for me. A lot of times, for a lot of different things. Who’s the one that stuck around on that bridge? Who stuck around at the hospital and stayed in Australia? Who gave up their entire life for a guy she barely knew?”

“I did it because I WANTED to know you. Because I wanted the chance to know you outside of those five days. And I did it because you deserved to live. Whether you thought so or not.”

“And now here we are,” he grins, and kisses her cheek. “Almost seven years and five kids later. We’ve come a long way and we a good fucking life. Even if it does seem shit right now. And we’re going to be okay and our kids are going to be okay and little bean is going to be okay. I promise. You trust me, right?”

“You know I do,:

“Then trust me about this. Everything is going to be okay. We’re going to get through this and we’re going to go on with our lives.”

It’s the most confident he’s been since arriving in Mumbai. And while he’s not sure if it’s actually genuine or it’s the comfortable yet totally functionally numbness brought on by a mix of pain meds and those for his depression and PTSD, but it feels pretty damn good to say it. 

He briefly places Addie against his shoulder, wrapping her in the towel draped and then laying her along his forearm. Her head nestled in the crook of his elbow and her tiny body wrapped in the soft,comfy fabric and only her face peeking out. Grinning when all of his fingers wrap around one of his and she pulls his hand towards her mouth, suckling at one of his knuckles.

“What are you doing, little peanut?” He chuckles. “You can’t be THAT hungry. You just ate.”

“She’s a growing baby, daddy. Pretty soon she’ll fit in all those newborn clothes we bought her. But I think she’s doing that for comfort; she tried doing it to Kyle’s nose yesterday.”

“Speaking of Kyle,” Tyler glances over his shoulder to where his brother in law and Nik -on a rare break- sit on the covered patio, chatting and laughing. “What’s going with those two?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even think I WANT to know.” She helps him slip into the sling, but bites her tongue and resists the urge to say ‘I told you so’ when he grimaces at even the smallest of movements. “Kyle says they get along better now that they’re just friends. I don’t understand how that even works. How can you be friends with someone you used to see naked all the time? How do you stay friends with someone you’ve spent months of years fucking.”

“We’re friends.”

“That’s different. We’re married. So the friendship comes hand in hand. Would you be able to be my friend if we split up?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” 

“Are we talking friends with benefits, or…?”

“Listen buddy, we break up? That’s it. I don’t care how good you are in bed or how talented you are with that mouth of yours; we co-parent and that’s it. No benefits for you. I don’t care how good looking you are or how pretty your eyes are or how big your muscles are. That’s it; you’re cut off. For good.”

Tyler grins. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Even during those six months you’d sometimes call me up and let me come over.:

“I had needs, okay? Needs I wanted YOU to be the one to take care of. I notice you didn’t say no. That you always showed up.”

“I was hoping you’d let me stay afterwards. Never did though.”

“I had to make you work for things,” Esme reasons. “And you did. Eventually. When you finally yanked your head out of your ass. I don’t know who said something to you or WHAT they said, but it worked.”

“Just some tough love. Things I need to hear. You don’t need to know who said them. And they didn’t want you to know. They asked me not to tell you.”

“Well whoever it was, I owe them a fruit basket.” She presses a kiss to his cheek. “Because that was definitely a turning point. Now look where we are. Two more kids, one on the way. None of that would have happened if it wasn’t for whoever it was. And Nik and Kyle? It’s definitely staying only friends. Alison asked him to move in with her.”

“As in Alison that lives right next door to us?”

Esme nods.

Tyler groans. “Fuck my life.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. But…” she scratches at the back of his head, then combs her fingers through the longer strands of hair on the top of his head. “...at least there’s a whole football field and then some between our house and theirs. I’m so sorry you can never get rid of my family entirely. I love you, if that makes any better. I bet you’re wishing now you’d said no in Dhaka..”

He shakes his head. “I was going with it regardless.”

“Color me surprised,” she scoffs, and tousles his hair. “Anil’s popping by later. He called while you were still asleep. He said you left him a message about needing to talk. You’re going to tell him? About wanting to stay here?”

He nods. “Best place for me to be. I need to be with you and the kids, especially now. I’ve got even more to lose.”

“You’ve got to keep your head in the game, though. If you obsess too much over me and the kids and the baby and keeping us all safe, it’s only going to fuck with you and you know it. You’ve got to keep your head on straight; we NEED you to keep it on straight. We need you to keep it together. And we need Old Tyler. That’s who you need to be to get us through this. And I think you know that.”

He nods.

“You’ve got this. I know you do. And it makes me feel a hell of a lot better knowing you’ll be if something does happen. You’re the only one I trust to get shit done and get it done right.”

“You have a lot of faith in me, baby.”

“Yeah, I do. But it’s one hundred percent warranted. I know the things you can do; I’ve seen the things you can do. And you can doubt yourself all you want, but what happened the other night has no bearing on what you’re capable of. So stop letting it take up so much space in your head. And it’s a very beautiful head, by the way.”

He chuckles at that, Feeling the smile curves her lips when she presses a kiss to his temple.

****

“So where are we?” Tyler asks three hours later, as he and Anil sit on the covered back patio. 

A late afternoon shower falls around them, bringing relief from the oppressive humidity and punishing sun. With the kids being entertained with the help of the indoor pool it’s quiet; nothing but the sound of pattering water drops and the light rustling of the trees as a soft breeze passes through them. Despite the damp conditions, the armed guards remain on high alert; several patrolling the grounds and three up on the roof. Even with his extensive experience with both the military and the job, he finds it slightly unnerving; the constant presence and the open carry of heavy duty weapons in plain sight of his children. And it’s extremely distressing that those measures are even needed in the first place.

“About half through the list. Not as far as I’d like to be by now. But it is what it is,” Anil shrugs, then takes a long sip from a glass of whiskey. Top shelf, Tyler assumes. The best of the best like nearly everything else in the man’s life; not sparing any expense when it comes to even the smallest luxuries and indulgences. He’d been offered a glass but had turned it down; not wanting to mix booze with the cocktail of medications he’d been taking. And still struggling with bouts of lightheadedness and moments of confusion.

“Looks like some bloke gave you a hard time,” Tyler comments, nodding towards the hand Anil has wrapped around the glass; knuckles swollen and covered in fresh cuts and bruises. There’s other injuries as well. A blackened right eyes and a contusion across the bridge of his nose and healing split lip. “Worked you over pretty good.”

“Number twelve,” Anil says with a smirk. “He was a lot tougher than he looked. Very fast. But not for very long. Not after I shot out both knees before the one to the middle of his forehead.”

“How are my guys doing? Koen and Rata? They don’t alright?”

“Very impressed with those two. Very skilled in weaponry. Very tough. I must admit, I was skeptical at first; when you said they had experience outside of the military. But they’ve adjusted extremely well. The biggest one; he really likes to get his hands dirty. Literally.”

Tyler smirks. “Rata’s a little...unhinged.”

“He can do more damage with his hands than some men can do with weapons. You served with both, yes?”

Tyler mods. “Known ‘em both since I was eighteen and signed up fresh out of high school. Did three tours in Afghanistan with Koen, two in Iraq with Rata.”

“You’ve seen a lot of desert,” Anil remarks.

“I’ve seen a lot of blood. And a lot of death. Way too much of it, actually.”

“Including your own blood and your own near death. You came very close. On that bridge in Dhaka.”

“Way too close,” Tyler says, his hand unconsciously covering the scar on the left side of his neck. “And I came damn close the other night too.”

“Their plan was to take you. Keep you alive. For as long as it took for you to be punished to Mahajan’s liking.”

“I figured as much. Number Twelve told you this?

“Among other things.”

“About me?”

Anil nods.

“They were going to kill my family, weren’t they. They were doing to track them down and kill them. And they were going to make me watch them do it.”

“There was a talk of that,” Anil confirms.

“And they were going to torture Esme and the kids. They were going shit to my wife and my daughters. To my little girls. One of them that’s only a baby. That’s what they were planning to do, wasn’t it.”

“I don’t know how far they were willing to go. How far they were willing to go to harm you.”

“I know how far they would have gone. I don’t need to be told. I’ve heard plenty of stories that ended that way. Guys who lost their entire families right in front of them. Who had to watch all kinds of sick and twisted shit done to them first. And Mahajan is the worst of the worst. Millie is six. Addie is three months. She’s a fucking baby..” The rage settles in; ferocious and powerful. Hands forming tight fists and his jaw clenching. He feels nauseous; the thought of anyone getting his hands on his daughter and their mother like that. 

“Do they know where I am?” Tyler asks. “Do they know I’m here?”

“Not that we know of. They know you’re out of commission; laying low somewhere. But they don’t know exactly where.”

“Do they know my family is here? Not just in Mumbai, but here? At your place? Do they know that?”

“We believe so.”

“When they can’t find me, they’re going to figure it out. They’ll know I’m here; that I came to be with my family. Mahajan would know that much about me. He knows what I care most about in this world.”

“We should move you,” Anil says. “Somewhere out of town. Until you get back on your feet and…”

“I’m staying here,” Tyler interjects. “With my wife and my kids. I’m not leaving them. They’re safer if I’m here. And they FEEL safer.”

“If Mahajan figures it out, he will come here. Every gun under his control will come here. Led right to your family. We..”

“So what if they come here? I’m here. Nik’s here. All your people here. What chance do they stand if they show up? We have a lot of our own firepower. And this is MY family. I’m not leaving them here while I go back out onto the street. My wife wants me to stay. She NEEDS me to stay. And that’s I’m doing. I’ve let her down too many times before. I’m not doing it again.”

Anil nods slowly, considering his words. “If we run into trouble, if we need you..”

“Just call me and I’ll be there. But I stay here with my wife and kids because they need me way more than you guys do. And look at me..” he nods at his shoulder, then his knee. “...I’m a fucking mess. I’m no use to you or anyone else. I’m not even seventy percent right now and I don't even know if I’ll ever get back to where I was before this. And it’s just messing with my head; those fucking drugs. I get dizzy, I get confused, I forget even the smallest shit. I’m useless right now. Simple as that. I’d only slow you down.”

“It takes a big man...a strong man...to admit that.” Anil praises.

“I’m not feeling too strong right about now, mate. Feeling pretty fucking weak, actually. It’s been a while since I had to step back; injury wise. Couple years ago I busted my forearm in Brazil; put me out for nearly a month; would have been longer but I got tired of sitting around and cut the cast off myself. Won’t be anything like that this time. I’m pretty messed up.”

“Physically, or…”

“Physically, mentally. I don’t know which is worse. I just know I hate it; hate sitting around watching everything go down. I wanna be out there, you know? Getting my hands dirty. I don’t like sitting still for too long.”

“Is that why you got back into this life? After half a year? Tired of sitting still?”

“Pretty much. Feel like a huge dick for admitting that, though. I should have been happy, yeah? Getting to spend time with my wife and my kids. But it wasn’t enough; no matter how I much wanted it to be. I’m a pretty shitty husband, aren’t I.” 

“You provide for your family. You fight for them. You stop at nothing to keep them safe. No my friend, you are not a shitty husband.”

“I always think about how my wife deserves so much better than this. So much better than me. Yet she’s stuck around through so much bullshit. I don’t know why she does it. Why she just doesn’t say ‘fuck it’ and walk away.”

“Is that what you want her to do? Just leave?”

“No. That’s the last thing I want. I don’t think I could do this without her. This life. And honestly, I don’t want to do it without her.” He sighs, then takes a swig from the bottle of water clutched tightly in his hand. “Any word on Nathan?”

“Still no sign of him. No one has been able to raise him. And if someone DOES have him, they haven’t reached out to us with demands.”

“Think he’s dead?”

“I don’t know what to think, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, and leans back in his chair, good arm behind his head. “You and me both.”

“It’s very odd,” Anil comments. “That he would just disappear like that. Out of thin air,:

“If someone had him, they’d reach out to us,” Tyler reasons. “They’d want something for him. If Mahajan has him, we’d know by now. They wouldn’t hide that from us. They’d want us to know what they’re doing to him. Trust me.”

“You’ve seen this kind of thing before?”

“Tons of times, unfortunately. And they never end well. What I really don’t understand is how the fuck that guy got THAT close to me. I thought you had your ear to the ground. That you for watching out for shit like that. All these guys watching me and supposedly having my back and THAT happens? Were all they fucking asleep?”

“We were told to stand down. That that’s what you wanted.”

“I never said to stand down. I said to stay out of my way. Not fuck off entirely. Who the hell told you I said to stand down?”

“Nathan. He said he’d have your back and that you said that’s all you needed. Him.”

“He told you that? Nathan said that?”

Anil nods.

Tyler gives a derisive snort and shakes his head; legs stretching out in front of him as he runs a palm over his face.

“What are you thinking?” Anil asks. 

He sighs heavily. “I think I need to talk to Nik.”


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: PROFANITY

“I think you’re reading too much into this.”

They sit in Anil’s home office; away from the distraction of chattering and giggling children and the curious ears and eyes of the team of staff that linger in the halls and busy themselves with numerous daily tasks. Rage and disgust overrule any existing emotion, and Tyler finds himself with a powerful, all consuming need to hunt every last one of Mahjan’s men down himself and then kill them as slowly and painfully as possible. His stomach still churns and bile still burns the back of his throat, and he’s unable to get the images of the previous night’s horror show out of his head; brought back by the confirmation of his worst possible fears. Even though he’d suspected what Mahajan’s men would do to both him and his family, it’s still a difficult pill to swallow, And he’s having a difficult time both controlling his temper and wrapping his head around just how sick and twisted some humans can actually be. That someone would ever harm a little girl and a baby in such fashion. And not just any little girl and baby, but HIS,

“I think I’m reading into it just fine,” he retorts, as he drops into the chair in front of Anil’s desk. Grunting and grimacing as he removes his arm from the sling; brief reprieve from the tight, secure confines. 

He frowns at the pins and needles that hamper his hand; attempting to clear them away by repeatedly opening and closing his fist. It’s far more than just a simple separation or even a partially torn ligament or tendon. The overall weakness from his wrist to the tips of his fingers is a near permanent fixture and the pain and discomfort extends far beyond anything he’s ever felt before in that shoulder. And the constant agony he’d been living for years prior to being jumped four nights ago had been bad enough. 

“If anything,” he continues “you’re not reading into it enough.”

“Nathan? You think it's Nathan?” There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of Nik’s mouth and an almost amused glitter in her eyes. It doesn’t help with his current mood; adding more fuel to the already raging fire that threatens to consume him.

“You said there was a mole. That there’s someone feeding Mahajan information. That…”

“What I said…” she interjects. “...is that I was worried there was a mile And if the information that came back was what I needed to prove it, I’d let you know.”

“Been over a week. Where is this information?”

“It’s forthcoming.”

“Pretty fucking slowly, don’t you think?”

“These things take time, Tyler. They don’t happen overnight.”

“Seven days,” he points out. “You’ve had seven goddamn days. I’m not asking for a miracle here. Do you have something for me or not? I don’t have time to fuck around.”

That smirk again. Playing on her mouth as she looks him up and down, eyes taking in the bad shoulder and fucked up knee and the multitude of bruises that cover his neck. “Seems like you have a lot of time on your hands right now.”

His jaw clenches. “Where we at, Nik? This isn’t a fucking game. I’ve got a lot on the line here. I have EVERYTHING on the line. So quit screwing around and wasting my time. You have information or not?”

“Nothing concrete. More hearsay than anything.”

“Is there anything you CAN tell me? Because this isn't a joke and I don’t have time to fuck around. Look at me…” he nods down at the arm that he rests across his chest and the brace on his knee. ‘...look what they managed to do to me. You think anyone else stands a chance against them? They fucked me up. And they’ll do worse to anyone else that gets in their way.”

“I can tell you that it’s NOT Nathan.”

“You got proof? That it’s not him?”

“You have proof it is?”

“Why are you so quick to defend him? You haven’t even bothered to listen to the proof I have.”

“What’s in your head is hardly proof, Tyler. What evidence do you have? And I’m talking about solid evidence, not just you trying to fit round pegs into square holes so it fits your agenda.”

“My agenda? I don’t have a fucking agenda. Mahajan’s people know where my family is, and now that I’ve dropped completely off their radar? It isn’t going to take them long to put two and two together. They’ll show up here.”

“So let them. They won’t get far. Not with the amount of firepower we have. Where does Nathan come into this? What does he have to do with any of it? He’s missing. Did you forget that? He’s dropped off the face of the earth. No one’s heard from him.”

“And you don’t find that weird? That he went missing the night everything went to hell? You don’t see anything strange about that? That he vanished into thin air? AFTER things went to shit?”

“You mean after he got the job done for you?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tyler scoffs. “I’m sorry I had a hard time getting shit done while someone was choking me and drugging me and planning on taking me somewhere to torture me and eventually kill me. I am so fucking sorry that all of that got in the way. Why are you so quick to defend this guy?”

“Why are YOU so quick to condemn him?” 

“Maybe because the little bastard was supposed to have my back that night. He was supposed to be watching my ass. And look what happened. Look how close someone got to me. Way too goddamn close and now they’re really pissed because their plan didn’t work and they’re going to come for me and they’re going to come for my family. Do you know what was said? What one of the guys told Anil? About Esme and the kids?”

“Tyler...” Nik sighs heavily as she takes a seat behind Anil’s desk. “...those are nothing but empty threats meant to scare you. To get you off your game.”

“Empty threats my ass,” he snarls. “Look at me. Look at what one guy managed to do. You know what they would have done to me; it would have lasted for days, weeks, maybe even months. And now I hear...for sure...what they have planned for my family? You know what they’ll do to my wife? And my girls? Millie is six. Addie’s a baby. And they’re going to do some sick and twisted shit to them. So don’t sit there and try and convince me that the threats are empty when I damn well know they’re not.”

“And you think Nathan is somehow involved because…”

“Did you know he told Anil and his guys that I said to stand down?”

“Did YOU not tell them to...and I quote…’get off my ass’?”

“I told them to stay out of my way. I said that right to Anil. But I said shit to Nathan. Why would I? He means fuck all to me. I’m not telling him to tell Anil and his people shit. But that’s what said; that I said for them to stand down and that he had my back and that’s all I needed. You know me, Nik. You know how I work. How I am. If I’ve got something to say, I say it to someone’s face. I don’t need a messenger.”

“I’ll give you that much,” she concedes. “But maybe it was something you said to Nathan. Or around him. Something he took out context and ran with.”

“Holy fuck…” Tyler gives a dry, incredulous laugh. “...you’re blaming this on me? You’re his fuck up on me? You’re saying I somehow caused that asshole to get a hold of me? You’re putting that on me? You’ve got to be shitting me right now.”

“This is personal to you. VERY personal,” she reasons. “I’m just thinking that maybe it’s so personal that you acted out of character. That you’re not in your right frame of mind and that you could have said something to Nathan that he misunderstood or…”

“I didn’t say shit to Nathan. And you’re right; this is very personal. Which is exactly the reason why I WOULDN’T fuck up. Because of everything I have to lose. I’m not going to screw up when it’s my entire life...my entire world...that could be taken from me. You really think I’m going to fuck when it’s my wife and my kids being threatened? Get your head out of your ass, Nik. Or should I say get your head out of Nathan’s,”

She frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re so quick to defend him. I can’t help but wonder why. Something you’re not telling me? I thought he quit working for you ‘cause he said things were going to shit and and that you were running the operation into the ground. Weird that you’re sticking up someone that said all of that. Unless….” a smirk slowly spreads across his face. “....holy shit...none of that was true, was it? That wasn’t the real reason he quit. You fucked him. Literally.”

“Tyler...I never…”

“You just can’t stop dipping into the company ink, can you. You got a merc kink or something? Me? Him? Gaspar, even? Who knows how many others. We’re good enough to fuck but that’s about it, huh? We can’t give you the fancy shit or all the toys your rich old men friends can give you. You like fucking the hired help.”

“You’re a real class act, you know that? Stay classy, Tyler. Once in the gutter, always in the gutter when it comes to you.”

“That’s rich. Considering you spent how many years trying to ruin my marriage so I’d come running to you? What? I guess I was the only you were willing to permanently slum for.”

“In the end I let Esme have my sloppy seconds, didn’t I?”

He smirks. “Nik, you don’t even come close to being anything like her. You can have all the money, all the class, all the rich, high profile friends and she’s still a hundred times better in every way. And she’s still my wife and that still burns you ass, doesn’t it.”

“That’s how low you’re willing to stoop? That’s how far into the gutter you want to go? You asked me to come here; to help keep an eye on YOUR family. A family you put in this goddamn mess in the first place. Had you not been so selfish seven years ago and kept your dick in your pants…”

“You may be banging Nathan, but he fucked me. Royally. I know it was him. It all adds up whether you want to admit it or not. He just disappears after what happened to me? Vanishes into thin air? If he was dead...if Mahajan had him killed...we’d hear about it. In the same way we’d know if they had him. Do you know where he is? Has your little friend kept in contact with you?”

“Of course not,” she snorts. “I’d never keep that a secret.”

“Naww, you’re just keeping the fact he’s dicking you down a secret. You don’t want people to know you’re banging a low life merc, yeah? Where is he Nik?”

“I have no idea.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you know exactly where he is. And I think you know he fucked up the other night and you’re wanting to keep that quiet. Because you know if I find out it’s true, I will rip his head off and shove it up his ass. I will fucking torture him in ways that will make Mahajan look like a rookie. Where is he? 

“How the hell should I know? I’m just as concerned as everyone else. He’s gone; vanished into thin air just like you said. No one has heard from him, no one has seen, no one can get a hold of him, Yaz is having no luck tracing his cell or his SAT. And you know what? You know what you haven’t given me? You haven’t given me one ounce of proof that he’s the mole. So if you’re not going to give me anything…” she pushes her chair away from the desk and stands. ‘“...we’re done here.”

“Sit down,” he firmly orders.

“I’ve got better things to do than fight with someone who is making absolutely zero sense. When you calm down and you get your shit together, come find me.”

“Sit down , Nik.”

“You can’t boss me around, Tyler. Esme may get off on your being like that, but…”

“I said sit down!” he snarls, with enough ferocity in his voice and rage in his eyes that it takes her by surprise and deflates her ego. Lips set in a thin, stern line as she returns to her seat.

“Nathan told Anil and his people to stand down so I’d be vulnerable,” Tyler says. “He knew what was going to happen; he knew Mahajan had sent someone to try and grab me. He’s probably the one who told them where I’d be.”

“It could be anyone who knew you were there.”

“It all adds up,” he insists. “Him taking off after the job was done and then dropping off the grid, him telling Anil that I didn’t need anyone else watching my ass. You don’t think this all comes together and that I haven’t given you the answers you need? You don’t think it’s pretty fucking obvious?”

“The only thing that’s obvious is that your head isn’t on straight. I get it; this is extremely personal and you want someone to blame. You want someone to go after. You’re pissed and you’re hurting and you’re…”

“I am way beyond pissed. I am so far PAST pissed. He told them where I’d be. Told them the weak spots to go after. You can’t tell me that this is all a coincidence.”

“I can, actually.”

He gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. “Wow. Must be some dicking down he’s giving you if you can’t see it. You’ve had one week to come up with something when it comes to this mole bullshit. Yet you have nothing and you still won’t acknowledge what’s right in front of you. All because you’re fucking the guy? Are you kidding me right now?”

“Everything I’VE discovered, does NOT lead to Nathan.”

“So you have found something out. And you weren’t going to tell me because…”

“Because I told you that you’d be the first to know if I had solid proof. I don’t have that yet.”

“You know what, Nik? I don’t have time to wait. My family is in danger. They will take my wife and my kids and they will do fucked up things to them. They will torture them and they’ll make sure I know all about it. I don’t have a single fucking minute to waste. What do you know? Who is it? Who you THINK it is?”

“Tyler, I don’t want to put this on you until I have it. IF I have to. I want clear cut proof before I bring this to you. You have enough going on without adding this to it. You need to get back on your feet; spend time with Esme and the kids. Try and relax.”

“Try and relax?” He laughs. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to relax with my family when all I can think about is what Mahajan and his people will do to them. My wife, my kids. Especially my girls? How the hell am I supposed to kick back and relax knowing what they’re going to do to my family if they get the chance.”

“You don’t need this on your plate,” Nik insists. “You don’t…”

“How about let me decide what I can and can’t handle. Tell me. Tell me who it is. Because I’ll kill the bastard with my bare hands.”

“Ovi,” she says simply.

Tyler shrugs. “What about him?”

“Ovi,” she firmly repeats. “The mole. It’s Ovi.”

“Bullshit,” he growls.

“All signs point to me. I am so sorry. Tyler. I’m…”

“What signs? What the hell signs could possibly point towards him?”

“He’s been in contact with his father,” she begins. “That’s how this all started.”

“Yeah, Mahajan wanted him to take over the family business. Ovi refused to and the old man couldn’t take no for an answer and he’s been hounding him since and stepped up his game. I already know all of that. It’s why Ovi wanted into the game; he thought it would protect him. And us.”

“I don’t mean what you already know. I mean that he’s been in contact with him since coming to Mumbai.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. There’s no way. No way in hell. He wants nothing to do with his old man; he’s wanted nothing to with him since he was fifteen and Mahajan let us take him. He doesn’t even want any ties to his old life or even India itself. I had to practically drag him onto the plane to get him here. There’s no way he’s going to go and see his old man.”

“I have the prison logs,” Nik says. “For the past week. Ovi’s signed in over a dozen times since he got here.”

“There is no way, Nik,” Tyler vehemently argues. “There’s no way he’s gone there. He has no reason to go there. I don’t give a fuck what those logs say; he wouldn’t do it. And he definitely isn’t a mole.”

“Tyler, I know what the logs say and they say he’s been there. A couple of hours at a time. And Yaz said he disappears for while after dinner and...”

“He’s been hittin’ the gym. I set up a workout schedule for him. To keep him sharp and to get him stronger and bulkier. He has not been to the prison. And I can’t believe you even think that about him.”

“What I think is that this hits close to home and that the kid means a lot to you. And I get it. I do. The two of you are very close. You’ve been taking care of him for six years now. But…”

“It goes beyond that. It hasn’t been just taking care of him. We’ve given him what he wanted. What he deserved. A family and people who actually gives a shit about him. I love that kid like he’s my own. But I’m not defending him just because of that. I KNOW him. I know what he’s like and how he thinks and how he acts. And I know how much he loves Esme and the kids and he would never do anything to hurt them. Yeah, he does some dumb shit and makes some stupid ass decisions and I could have fucking killed him over wanting to get into the job. But when that kid loves, he loves huge and deep. And he wouldn’t do anything to put Esme and the kids in danger. That’s not him. That’s now who he is.”

“The evidence speaks for itself, Tyler.”

He smirks. “Evidence? You call THAT evidence? That’s way less than what I have on Nathan and you were quick to dismiss me. You have anything to back those logs up? What about videos? Pictures of some kind? Prison has security cameras right? Did you check those?”

“Security cameras in the visitors area, the office, and the hall that connects the two haven’t worked for years.”

“How fucking convenient, huh?”

“It’s a very poor prison,” she attempts to reason. “It's rundown and it’s over crowded and it gets little to no funding from the government.”

“So you have nothing but his name written down in a visitor’s log a few times?”

“More than a dozen times,” she corrects. 

“A few, a dozen, I don’t give a shit. That’s all you have on him?”

“I know how upset he got when Anil mentioned killing his father. That he was very emotional and overly defensive.”

“Do you really blame him? Yeah, his dad...his REAL dad…is a first class dick. But that doesn’t mean the kid wants to hear someone come right and talk about killing him. I mean, my old man is a complete prick and there’s many times I’ve wanted to beat the shit out of him myself. But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be upset if someone else said it.”

Nik says. “Tyler, I know the two of you are close. Way too close to look at this objectively.”

“It’s not Ovi. I know right to my very soul that it’s not him. He would never do something like this to me. And he especially wouldn’t put Esme and the kids in harm’s way. You don’t know him like I do.”

“Which is why I can look at this objectively and you can’t.”

“And you fucking Nathan means you can’t look at him objectively,” Tyler counters. I am telling you, Nik. It is NOT Ovi.”

“And I’M telling you it’s not Nathan.”

“Because you know so much about the guy, yeah? Everything you need to know about him is based on how well he fucks. I’ve raised that kid for almost six full years now and I gave him a family and a decent life and he felt loved for the first time in probably...I don’t know...EVER. He babysits my kids; he kept them safe during the whole Michael McMann bullshit. I trust him with their lives. And I don’t trust many people and you know that.”

“You’re putting too much faith into him. He can’t help how his life was before or who he was born to. And if seven years ago you’d left him like I told you to…”

“We’re done,” Tyler says, wincing as he stands. The pain is especially bad since the rain; the dampness aggravating the arthritis and causing every inch of damage to his body -both new and old- to throb and tighten. “He’s a good kid, Nik. A damn good kid. And it’s not him. He’s the last person who would fuck me over like that.”

“But the logs..”

“Fuck the logs!” he snaps, a hand on the door knob. “Fuck the logs and fuck you for throwing that kid...MY kid...under the bus like this.;”

“I should say the same to you about Nathan,” she shoots back. 

“Don’t even compare the two. One of them is a kid that I’ve been raising and loving for six years. The other one just has the dick you’ve been sucking for months.”

“I’ll find proof,” she says, as he throws the door open. “That it’s him. Ovi.”

“Yeah, and I’ll believe it when I see. You find Nathan, Nik. Or I’ll find him myself and the end result won’t be pretty. Because if I find out for sure that it IS him, I will kill him with my bare hands and I’ll throw his body at your feet. Don’t fuck with me, Nik. I find out that you know where he is and that you’ve been protecting him? You’ll regret the day you ever met me.”

****

She wakes to an empty bed; stirred by both Addie’s soft yet persistent whimpering from the nearby cradle and incessant nausea. It’s been on and off all day; smells and tastes she normally enjoys instigating it and the mere sight of food causing the queasiness to settle in and the burn of bile to find the back of her throat. 

One hand blindly reaches for that thick, strong body alongside her, eyes snapping open when she finds nothing to cool, empty sheets; barely wrinkled or disturbed. After his meeting with Nik, he’d spent the remainder of the evening doting and loving on the kids; even more affectionate and attentive than usual. It had taken some getting used to on his behalf; growing comfortable with both giving and receiving affection; a lifetime spent with an abusive father that viewed things as even the smallest of hugs or a ruffle of the hair as weak and pathetic. The last time anyone had shown him love and allowed him to give it in return had been his mother; letting him be the sweet and sensitive but often overcompensating for her husband’s neglect and behaviour. Even his ex wife had viewed it as ‘less manly’; a husband that showed emotion or expressed his feelings or showed even the smallest and most innocent form of intimacy. It’s a hard thing to get past; always expected to be the strong, stoic one and often ridicule for showing even the smallest crack or chink in his armour.

It had been a powerful struggle of sorts between them. A husband not used to being tender and patient and affectionate finding himself with a wife that desperately needed -and craved- all three of those things. But he’d come around; each little one brought into the world softening him and breaking down the walls he’d long ago built around his heart. Afraid to love too much; knowing the immense sense of love and grief that comes when you lose someone that had been such an enormous part of your life. 

Through one of the bedroom windows she sees him sitting in one of the lounge chairs; hair messy from sleep -or his attempt at it-, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands tightly clasped together. His eyes are downcast; both shoulders tense and his jaw tightly set. Despite the good front he’d put on with the kids following his chat with Nik, she had easily seen through it. Recognizing the way his eyes would darken and his face would harden when the littles weren’t paying attention. And it would quickly pass; all tension and fear and worry fading -yet tears shimmering in his eyes- when he’d hug them as tightly as their bodies would allow. The hurt is deep. All consuming. His already weary and bruised and battered mind plagued by so many worries and fears. 

She obliges Addie with a diaper change and then scoops her out of the cradle; loving the warmth that radiates from that little body, the soft smell that clings to her hair and skin and her sleeper, and the she settles her little face in her chest and immediately begins rooting for the breast. Growing angry and agitated when comfort and sustenance isn’t provided right away.

“Okay Little Miss Impatient,” Esme coos, and then drops a kiss on the top of Addie’s head as she pads across the room. “You’re not going to starve. Mommy won’t let that happen, I promise. You just have to learn to wait. You were only fed two hours ago.”

She shoves her feet into a pair of sandals that sit at the end of the door, and then with hand holding Addie tightly to her chest, opens the balcony door with the other.

“What are you doing out there?” she asks, and he doesn’t look up and in her direction until she speaks. “You okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to keep you with my tossing and turning. How come you’re awake?”

“Someone decided she needed to eat again. She definitely has your appetite. And I’m nauseous as hell. Why do they call it morning sickness when it lasts all damn day? And what is up with your spawn that they’ve all made so sick? I haven't had one pregnancy where I haven’t felt like I was dying.”

Tyler pulls over one of the extra chairs; setting it beside him and then lightly curling his fingers -instinctively and protectively- around her upper arm and guiding her into the seat. “I’m sorry, babe. I would have taken care of her. I didn’t hear her with the door closed.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to always be the nighttime person. You’re allowed a shift off every now and then,” she teases, then presses a kiss to his scruffy cheek before unfastening the first four buttons on one of his old dress shirts; boasting many holes and frayed cuffs but serving as a decent nursing top. “She’s getting very demanding. A little diva already. And so dramatic. Like her big sister.”

“We knew that was going to happen.” he says, then shrugs out of his hoodie and drapes it over her shoulders. Pulling it around her slender body, effectively covering Addie in an effort to keep her secure and warm despite the cool breeze that the earlier rain showers had brought along with it. “Want me to get you something? Something to eat? A drink?”

“I’m okay. But I do appreciate you always wanting to spoil me.”

“Gotta take care of my girls, yeah? Well two out of three, anyway.” He lays a palm on the side of her head, gently pulling it towards him and then pressing a kiss to her temple; hand dropping to her shoulder.

“You couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head.

“Bad dream again?”

“Can’t even get to sleep,” he admits. “Spent two hours just lying there. Thinking about shit.”

“What kind of shit?”

“Shit you don’t need to know about, trust me.”

“But it’s about the dream, right? It’s not that you can’t sleep. You don’t want to. You don’t want to have that dream again.”

“You really DO know me well.”

“I know what your worst fears are. And how your brain likes to exploit them and torture you. This isn’t the first time something’s affected you like this. Probably won’t be the last, unfortunately.”

“It was way worse this time. That shit that went on it. About you. About the kids. Especially about Millie and Addie.” The breath he exhales is tormented and shaky. “I can’t get it out of my head. The shit they would do to the three of you.”

“I know it’s easy for me to say, but try not to think about it. Don’t let it take up space in your head. We’re safe here. With you. Nothing like that’s going to happen. You won’t let it.”

“What if I can’t stop them? What if they come here and there’s nothing I can do? Look how just one of them fucked me up. How the hell would I stop half a dozen? A dozen? More?”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Esme reminds him. “There’s a lot of people here that have your back. And stop doubting yourself. What happened the other night has no bearing on the things you can do. I know what you’re capable of. And even all banged up and bruised, I’d still trust you to protect us over anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “You have way too much faith in me.”

“Faith. Confidence. Trust. I have all those. And they’re always there. Because I know you won’t back down when it comes to protecting us. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do and no limits or boundaries you won’t push. Do you think any of the people here actually care about us? We’re just money to them. A paycheck. We’re way more than that to you.”

“You guys are everything to me. My entire life. My entire world. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep from losing that.”

“I know. When you love, you love huge and deep. And you’re fierce and you’re strong in that love and that’s how I know everything is going to be okay. As long as you’re here. I’m not worried about a goddamn thing. Other than you of course.”

He grins. “I knew that was coming.”

“You need sleep, Tyler. You can’t keep pushing your body’s limits like this. Especially when you’re not healthy. You need sleep and you need to eat better and you need to stop beating yourself up mentally. Because I hate seeing you go through this. I hate not being able to help you.”

“You DO help me,” he assures her. “More than you realize. It’s the only place...you’re the only person...I feel safe with. You’re the only that I can trust. You’re the one constant in my life; I know you’re going to be there even if I’m a fucking mess and I’m falling apart. I just know you’ll be there. That I can count on you and that you won’t think I’m weak or pathetic even if I do feel that way.”

“Baby…” she places a hand on the back of his head, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. “...you’re far from being weak and pathetic. The FARTHEST from it. You’re so strong and you’re brave and you’re resilient and you’ll stop at nothing to keep us safe. What happened that night was just a setback. That could have happened to anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone.”

“You’re not invincible, Tyler. You’re a human being. Let yourself be one. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t screw up. You’re not slowing down and you’re not slipping. These things just happen. And you’re here and that’s all that matters. That you’re okay. Anyone else would have given up. But you don’t know what it is to give up.”

“I couldn’t give up. I didn’t want to leave you. Or the kids. If it was seven years...before you...before US...I probably wouldn’t have fought it. I wouldn’t have given a shit. But all I could think about the other night was you and my kids and how I wasn’t ready to let that all go. I especially wasn’t ready to let US go.”

She gives a teary smile, then kisses his cheek and the corner of his mouth. It takes her breath away. How a man that is so big and so powerful...intimidating even…can be so gentle in both his words and actions. That someone who is capable of inflicting brutal punishment and immense pain, can love so deeply. She doesn’t know what to say in response; if he even wants or expects her to say anything. Instead she leans into him; his arm tightening around her as she rests the side of her head against his chest. And neither of them speak for several long minutes. Enjoying the breeze and listening to the rustle of the trees and the soft, happy noises that Addie makes as she feeds.

“She keeps eating like she is, she’s going to start packing on the weight,” Esme remarks, as she moves the baby to the other breast. “Not that that’s a bad thing. She needs to. She is way too small.”

“You’re just used to them being bigger,” Tyler reasons. “So she’s tiny; nothing wrong with that. You’re tiny. I could pick you up and put you in my pocket and carry you around. Like one of those yappy dogs rich women put in their purses.”

“Excuse you! Did you seriously just compare me to a yappy little dog?”

“Well you ARE very chatty.”

“I’m a social being. I like people. You knew that when we met; you knew I was chatty. And you...Mister Anti Social...put up with it. Not only did you put up with it for five days, you’ve put it with it for almost seven years. You married me. You’ve put five babies in me. Now six! So either you’re a glutton for punishment or you secretly enjoy the way I am.”

“Nothing secret about it. I love everything about you. Even when you’re talking my ear off first thing in the morning and I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“You can be such a grumpy bastard in the morning.” she declares. “But you’re MY grumpy bastard. And I have to confess; sometimes I’m extra chatty just to annoy because your snoring pissed me off so bad during the night.”

“That’s okay. I purposefully annoy you sometimes just because you’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

“Baby, you’re such a sweet talker. And people say romance is dead.”

He grins, then moves his hand up to the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple. 

“And you’ve been very sappy the last couple of days,” she adds. “Not that I’m complaining. You’re just not usually so ‘out there’ with things.”

“The other night scared the shit out of me,” he admits. “Made me think about how if I do die, I don’t want you wondering how I really felt about you. About us. I’d rather you know all of that. Just in case.” His eyes are downcast one again; jaw tightly clenched. And he places a palm flat against the bottom of one Addie’s bare feet and then lightly tickles her heel and each toe. 

“I already know,” Esme assures him. "I see in your eyes all the time. I hear it in your voice. You say enough without words, believe me. And nothing is going to happen. We’re going to be fine. All this is going to get settled and we’re going to go home and go on with our lives. And I’m going to get fat and gross. Thanks very much for that, by the way.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re pregnant. I mean, you’re beautiful ALL the time. But when you’re having a baby? MY baby? You’re incredible.”

“Goddamn you are so biased.”

Tyler grins. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean it’s less true,”

She smiles, then turns her face into his and presses a kiss to his mouth; long and soft and sweet. Eyes remaining closed when his fingers gently knead the back of her head and his lips find her brow; lingering there for several seconds. It’s pure and so beautiful...so loving...that once against tears fill her eyes. The thought of how she’d close she’d come to never again experiencing these small moments of intimacy just too much to bear.

“What are you doing under there, little peanut?” He peels back the edge of the hoodie and peers underneath. “You tell mommy that’s okay to be tiny as long as you’re healthy. That’s all daddy cares about.”

“Look at the way she looks at you,” Esme says, as Addie immediately stops feeding and flashes a broad smile. “Daddy is definitely your favorite, isn’t he? Not that I blame you, he’s my favorite too. You and your sister are going to have so much power over him. Millie with her blue eyes and you with your big brown ones. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Daddy is sitting right there,” he speaks up. “Daddy can hear you.”

“Even she thinks rainbows shoot out of your ass,” Esme scoffs, then removes Addie from the breast and readjusts her shirt and the hoodie. “Look at her. It’s like she thinks you shit glitter and unicorns.”

“I remember when YOU used to look at me like that.”

“I still do. I still think you’re the sexiest man on the face of the earth. How can I not? Eyes like that and an ass like that? No one comes close to you, honey.”

“And here I was thinking you fell in love with me because of my boyish charm and sparkling personality.”

“Yeah...no...sorry. It was definitely the eyes and the muscles and the ass. And your face didn’t hurt either.”

“Mommy only wants me for my body.” he says to Addie, then takes her from Esme’s arms; a hand on the middle of her back as he settles her against his chest.

“You’re so good with her,” Esme praises, then lays a hand on his stomach and her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad it was you that knocked me up all those years ago, just so you know.”

“Yeah, I’m glad it was me too. Things have turned out pretty good for us.”

“They definitely have. She’s so beautiful. They all are. I certainly picked the perfect baby daddy. I think I’ll keep you for the long haul.”

“Good. ‘Cause I sort of want to stick around for...I don’t know...the next forty, fifty years.” He squeezes her hip as his hand rests upon it, then kisses the tip of her nose. “Thank you. For her. For all of them. For us. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“No. It hasn’t. But it’s been worth it. Every single second and every single hard and shitty time. It’s been worth it. YOU’VE been worth it.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“That’s okay. You’re beautiful when you cry. You’re beautiful all the time. But you’re extra pretty when you cry.”

Tyler frowns. “I’m going to let you have those only because I have my little peanut with me and she doesn’t need to hear the language that’s ready to come out of me.”

She laughs at that, then places a kiss on his shoulder and rubs his stomach. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

“You really want to know?”

Esme nods.

“Nik’s a cunt.”

“Jesus!” Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. “That escalated quickly.”

“Sorry. I know you hate that word. But that’s what she is. I told her about Nathan. About being pretty sure he’s the mole. She said it was all in my head. That I was reading too much into things. That my brain is just fucked and making me think that there’s shit going on.”

Esme snorts. “Nice to see it didn’t take her long to get back on her bullshit. Why do you even involve her in anything? It always ends up like this. Her trying to manipulate you and make you think you’re crazy. She’s never going to change, Tyler. And I regret ever thinking she could.”

“I think she knows more than she’s letting on. I think she might even know where he is. That she’s trying to protect him because she knows I’ll fucking kill him.”

“I knew it. I knew she was fucking him.”

He chuckles. “How’d you know that?”

“Women know these things about other women. She knew I was fucking you. In Dhaka.”

“In all fairness, the entire team knew we were fucking in Dhaka. We were staying in the same room for five days. It probably would have surprised them more if we DIDN’T fuck.”

“She really loves banging the hired help, doesn’t she. She’s got a thing for mercs?”

“Apparently. Her old rich friends can’t get it up so she relies on one of us to get the job done. She basically laughed it all off. Said I was imagining things. That I’m ‘reaching’ because I’m looking for someone to punish.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I thought your argument for Nathan as the mole was pretty sound. It makes sense. You’re not a stupid man, Tyler. Far from it. What’s your gut telling you?”

“That he’s either the mole or he’s playing some part in all of this.”

“Is there any way to prove it? Some way you can find out for sure?”

“Do you have any contacts with the Corps still?”

“Maybe...why?”

“Think you could pull some strings? Dig into his past?”

“I think I could try.”

“Would you? Try? For me? Please?”

She nods.

“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “You won’t believe who she does think is the mole.”

“Right about now, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she said it was me.”

“I honestly would have lost my shit if she even suggested it. Ovi. She thinks it’s Ovi.”

“Ovi?” Esme can’t help but laugh. “Ovi as in OUR Ovi?”

Tyler nods.

“What the hell? Why would she suspect him? Of all goddamn people.”

“She thinks he’s been in contact with his old man.”

“We already know he is. Mahajan’s been trying to get him to take over the family biz. But that doesn’t mean he’s a mole. That’s ridiculous.”

“She says there’s proof he’s been to the prison a dozen or so times.”

“Proof? What kind of proof?”

“Visitor logs, apparently.”

“Anyone can sign someone’s name. It probably happens all the time. Is there actual confirmation of this? Security cameras, witnesses that saw him?”

“I didn’t ask about witnesses. But she said most of the prison doesn’t have working cameras.”

Esme snorts. “How fucking convenient.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“I can’t believe she suspects him. Of all people. Ovi is not a mole. He’s a good kid. Well, young man now. But he’s a good person with a good heart. He’d never do anything like that to me or the kids. Look at what he did for us; during the whole McMann thing. He took our kids...all four...and kept them safe. He wouldn’t do that and then turn around and do something like this. She’s way off bases. You don’t believe her, do you?”

“What? No. I don’t. She doesn’t know him like we do.”

“Because you have that look on your face. The one that says you’re questioning something. Don’t do it, Tyler. Don’t let her in your head. We both know that Ovi wouldn’t do something like this. He loves you. He idolizes you. And he’d never...ever...betray you like that.”

“I wish I could get a hold of him. Talk to him. But I don’t want to draw any attention to him either. It’s better if I just lay low right now. Stay off their radar.”

“Do you want me to call him?” Esme suggests. “Because I don’t mind getting to the bottom of all this and proving Nik wrong. I know you have to fly under the radar, but it doesn’t mean I have to. I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“I think it’s better if we BOTH fly under the radar for now. At least until I’m back about eighty percent. Just in case.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agrees, then shrugs out of the hoodie and drapes it over Addie. “But I don’t mind stirring the shit pot.”

Tyler grins. “Oh I know you don’t.”

“Like, fuck her for throwing him under the bus. Ovi would never do something like this. We’re his family. We’re his parents. He’s always said that. That we didn’t make him, but we’re still his mom and dad. He loves you way too much to ever hurt you. You know that, right?”

He nods.

“Don’t let her in, Tyler. She’s done it too many times before. Don’t let it happen. Okay?”

He nods and manages a small smile. “Okay.”

“Now come to bed.” she encourages as she stands. “It’s really late and I hate sleeping alone.”

“I can’t sleep. I just can’t.”

“At least close your eyes and try and rest. Even just a little? Please?” She pushes her hair off his forehead. “You can’t go on like this. Not sleeping. Your body will give up on you eventually. We need you better and back on your feet. And that won’t happen if you don’t get some rest.”

“I don’t want to close my eyes,” he admits. “ As soon as I close them, all I can see is the shit from that dream. What those fucking asshole do to you and Addie and Millie.”

“Okay...no...stop…” She stands behind his thighs and takes his face in her hands. “...stop that, Tyler. Stop torturing yourself like this. Because I’m right here and your baby girl is in your arms and Millie is asleep and safe in her room. Don’t do this yourself. Please don’t.”

“I’ll try.”

“Come to bed,” Esme insists, and pecks the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll be in a little while. “I’ll…”

“I said come...to...bed…” she speaks in between kisses to his lips, then captures the bottom one between her teeth. “...now.”

“Oh…” he grins. “...you mean come to bed in THAT way.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she confirms, then takes Addie from him. “I’m going to put her in the nursery and then I’m going to wait for you. I’ll give you ten minutes. You’re not inside by then, I’m starting without you.”

“I might want to see THAT.”

“I’ll indulge you if you don’t keep me waiting,” she promises, then disappears inside.


	68. Chapter 68

“Do you think he’s dead?” 

Tanner’s voice -slightly tinged with worry- cuts through the heavy, hazy veil of sleep. Tyler’s unsure how long he’d actually been out for; spending an hour in the pool with Declan and three oldest before pain and his perpetual exhaustion drove him to the sidelines. Even after returning to bed the night before sleep had eluded him; despite the hour spent slowly and attentively worshipping every inch of his wife’s body before indulging in a long, intense session of love making. Although his body had been completely sated, his brain refused to slow down; reluctant to even close his eyes in fear of being confronted by the horrifying images from the previous night’s dream. He hadn’t wanted to endure even a single moment of another nightmare like that; unsure if his already fragile mental stability could survive it. Instead he’d laid awake with Esme wrapped tightly in both arms. Content with listening to her breathe, feeling her body moving against him with each inhale and exhale, and taking in that soft, familiar smell that clings to her hair and skin. Letting her sleep peacefully as his brain tortured him, making him think about how close he’d come to never holding her again while simultaneously reminding him of all the things Mahajan’s people would do to her and his kids. 

He had managed to nod off. Catching at least an hour, hour and a half tops, before being awakened by his wife bounding out of bed and the rushing for the bathroom; grimacing and shuddering at the sound of her being violently -and continuously- ill. It’s the one thing he can’t stomach; the mere sound making him nauseous and making every piece of hair on his body stand on end. But he’d climbed out of bed to take care of her regardless. Spending nearly half an hour on his knees beside her; holding her hair back and fetching cool, damp cloths to place on her forehead and nape of the neck. And apologizing profusely for being the one responsible for making her so sick in the first place. Then he’d gotten her dry bread and tea from the kitchen; the latter a concoction made up by one of the nannies, who he’d entrusted with not only the news of another baby on the way, but with keeping her mouth shut. It wasn’t the time to announce such a thing; for many different reasons. If word got out, that would give Mahajan even more incentive to get the job done. And they’d already made the mistake of announcing one pregnancy before the crucial first trimester was over and done with; miscarrying only three days past the two and a half month mark. 

After making sure she was hydrated and somewhat fed, he all but forced her back to bed; ignoring her arguments that he was the one who needed to rest and sleep being key to him getting back on his feet both mentally AND physically. But he’d brushed it off. Letting her rest while -with the help of the team of nannies- tending to five kids. Normally he wouldn’t need assistance; more than capable of juggling the demands of an infant and four under the age of six. He;s accustomed to the hustle and bustle of school mornings; feeding a baby while preparing breakfast for the others and getting lunches packed and filling backpacks. But with the shape he’s in, easy and old familiar habits have become increasingly difficult; the pain in his knee and shoulder and the pins and needles in his hand are unrelenting and he’s near constant agony. It’s disheartening; not being able to fully enjoy the time he has with his kids. Not able to play and rough house the way they’re used to. And while they understand that daddy’s hurts and can’t do the things he normally does, they’re also disappointed. It’s hard enough on an adult being away from home and separated from everything that is comfortable and familiar. He can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it is for them. 

“He’s not dead,” Millie speaks up, as she and her brothers gather around the fully reclined lounge chair. “He’s breathing.”

“I hope he’s not dead,” TJ says. “I don’t want to have to eat mommy’s cooking ALL the time. I love mommy, but she can’t cook for shit.”

“Make sure he’s breathing,” Tanner orders. “Check or something.”

“His stomach is moving up and down,” his sister points out. “He’s obviously breathing.”

“Check anyways,” Tanner insists. “Put your hand under his nose and see if there’s air coming out. Like mommy sometimes when she gets paranoid and checks on us.”

“I’ll do it,” TJ offers, and then steps to the side of the chair. “But if daddy gets mad, I’m throwing you guys under the bus.”

Tyler holds off on reacting until he feels both the water from TJ’s body drop onto his and the back of the five year old’s hand under his nose. Snagging both him and Millie by the wrists and yanking them into him; startled yelps quickly turning into hysterical giggles when they -joined by their brother jumping into the action- throw themselves on top of him and he proceeds to tickle them mercilessly. Not worrying about the chronic pain or the numbness in his hand; the only thing of importance being the sounds of his kids’ laughter and the hiccups left behind and they way three sets of little arms curl around his neck all at once. All wanting kisses and cuddles and him more than willing to oblige. It had taken some getting used to; both accepting and offering affection. Each little one successfully tearing down the walls that an abusive upbringing had seen him building up. 

One day they’ll be too old for this. They won’t want to spend time with daddy and will no longer look at him as if he’s the strongest, bravest, most amazing man on the entire planet. They’ll outgrow it; no longer wanting or needing cuddles with mommy and daddy. So he plans on making the most of this stage; enjoying every hug and every peck on the lips and fulfilling every request for a snuggle or ‘one more story’.

“You were supposed to be watching us,” Millie scolds, as she tucks herself under his arm and cuddles into his side.

“I was.”

“Your eyes were closed,” she argues.

“And you were snoring,” Tanner adds, from where he’s perched on Tyler’s stomach.

“I don’t snore.”

“Yeah,” TJ laughs, and snuggles into his left side. “Right.”

“What if we drowned?” Tanner asks. “Mommy would have been so pissed.”

“You weren’t going to drown. Uncle Kyle was in the pool with you AND you had life jackets on. 

“You slept for almost three hours,” Millie informs him. “We’ve already had lunch and a snack and went swimming again.”

“I was out for three hours?”

His daughter nods. “Mommy even tried to wake you up to see if you were hungry but you didn’t even budge. Are you not sleeping at night again?”

“It’s been a rough couple of nights,” Tyler admits, and uses his fingers to push her wet hair out of her eyes. “It happens sometimes.”

“Is it ‘cause of the bad guys?” Tanner inquires. “‘Cause they hurt you?”

“A little. I just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” Millie asks.

“Things that aren’t your business and I don’t want to make your business. You know what I DO want? Something to eat. You guys think you could do me a solid and get me something?”

“I can do it,” Tanner leans down to press a kiss to his lips, then gives his neck one last squeeze. “You wanna come, Teej? You can help. You can carry a drink.”

“I’m going to stay with daddy.”

“I’ll help,” Millie offers as she climbs off the lounge chair, slinging a protective arm across her little brother’s shoulders. She’s taller by four inches; all torso and long limbs. Tanner is shorter; narrow through the waist and shoulders but strong as hell.

Beside him, TJ gives a long, audible sigh and drapes an arm across Tyler’s collarbone. Blue eyes dark and troubled; way too intense for someone so young.

“What’s up, mate? What’s going on? You okay?”

TJ shakes his head.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I miss home. I miss our house and my room and my bed and all my stuff. And the beach. I really miss the beach and surfing and swimming and collecting rocks and stuff. I thought going away would be a lot more fun.”

“You’re not having a good time? Not even with all the stuff to do here?”

“It’s alright. All the people are really nice and I like the food. But I want to go home. I want things back to normal. It’s not as fun as home. At home we do lots of things together. Here we don’t.”

“Well I can’t really do much right now,” Tyler points out.

“I know. But I still miss it. I still miss all the stuff we do together.”

Tyler tousles his son’s hair. “So do I, mate. And we’ll get back to doing all that stuff, I promise.”

“How much longer do we have to stay here?”

“I don’t know.”

“But we ARE going home, right? We’re not living here for good, are we?”

“No. We’re going home. When all the work is done. Second that happens, we’re getting on the first place back.”

“Together this time? We get to go on the same plane?”

“We sure do. That was just a one time thing. It sucked; not being able to with you guys right away. I don’t ever want to do that again. And we’ll be going home soon, okay? It won’t be much longer.”

“I even miss school,” TJ admits.

“You? Miss school? That’s a first.”

“I miss my friends. Especially Zeke. I really miss him. He’s my best friend. Even if he is different; that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care if he’s in a wheelchair and can’t talk right. I understand him and that’s what matters. And I make him smile and laugh all the time and that makes me feel really good inside. I’m glad he likes me.”

Tyler smiles, then presses a kiss to his son’s forehead. “You’ve got a huge heart. You’re so much like your mom in that way.”

“Mommy loves everyone. She says it takes too much energy to hate and that loving people makes you feel better. I think she’s right. I’m the only one who wants to be Zeke’s friend; everyone else is so mean to him. I don’t get it. He can’t help the way he is. And there’s nothing wrong with him anyway. He’s perfect the way he is. The way he’s meant to be. Mommy said that we’re made the way we’re supposed to be. Just like me and Tanner were made to be twins and Declan was made to have red hair.”

“Your mom’s a pretty smart lady.”

“It’s why I get into fights, you know. I don’t like mean people. I don’t have time for bullies and I won’t let them scare other kids. It makes me mad; when bad people are mean to good people and get away with it. They shouldn't be allowed to get away with it.”

“No. They shouldn’t.”

“It’s what YOU do. You stop bad people from hurting good people.”

“Sort of, I guess. There’s more to it than that.”

“But you help them. People that need help, right?”

Tyler nods.

“People that can’t stick up for themselves. Zeke can’t stick up for himself so I do it for him. I won’t let people be mean to him. He doesn’t deserve it. And if I keep getting in trouble for it, it’s worth it.”

“But you can’t keep beating the shit out of people. You just can’t, mate. No matter how much they deserve it. And believe me, they do.”

“Then what do I do? I can’t let bullies win. If I beat them up, they’ll be too scared to bully anyone ‘cause they know I’ll show hands. It makes me just as bad if I don’t step up. And I’ve tried telling the teachers and they don’t do anything about it. So what DO I do?”

“Well, I can tell you what NOT to do. And that’s choke people out.”

“You do it,” TJ points out.

“I’m an adult. And that’s my job. You’re five.”

“I have to help people daddy,” he laments. “I HAVE to. I can’t let bad people hurt good people. So if I can’t beat the shit out of them, what do I do?”

“Try talking to them. Reason with them. Explain to them why their behaviour sucks.”

“And if they don’t listen and keep doing it?”

“Then you keep using your words until it stops.”

“And if they hit me first?”

“You hit back. And you hit back hard. So they can’t get up. And then you hope they learned their lesson. But you can’t do the damage that you’ve been doing. I’m proud of you for sticking up for other people; especially for Zeke. But you can not...and I repeat, CAN NOT...choke people out and bash their heads off the cement on the playground.”

“Can I punch them in the face? Just once?”

“If they hit you first, then you hit back. Simple as that. But no starting it. I’d rather you finish it, understand?”

TJ nods, then fidgets with the necklace around Tyler’s neck. “Are you friends with Zeke’s daddy?” 

“I guess. Why? You want me to be?”

“It would be cool, I think. ‘Cause then he could hang out at our house and he’d bring Zeke with him. And then we could play. Could you teach Zeke to surf, maybe? I know he can’t stand, but you could find a way to help him. You’re good at figuring things out and helping other people.”

“I could probably come up with something.”

“I think it’s good if you have a normal friend.”

“A normal friend?” Tyler chuckles. “What’s that supposed to mean? A normal friend?”

“A friend that doesn’t kill people for a living. A normal person that does normal things. That you can talk about normal stuff with. Don’t you want a normal friend?”

“I’ve never thought about it,” Tyler admits.

“Mommy needs a friend too. Auntie Nik and mommy are NOT friends. I don’t think they like each other very much.”

“They have a history.”

“Was she your girlfriend once? Auntie Nik?”

“Nope. She was never my girlfriend. A friend that’s a girl. But not my girlfriend.”

“A booty call?”

“Pardon me?” He frowns as he looks down at the five year old. “Where’d you hear THAT word?”

“TV.”

“What the hell have you been watching? They’re not teaching that word on Sesame Street or Paw Patrol.”

“I wasn’t watching it. Uncle Koen and Ovi were and I just heard the word and I asked what it meant and they said it was when you call a girl up and they tell you to come over for ‘adult time’.”

Tyler scowls. “I am definitely having a talk with those two. You’re five. You don’t need to be hearing stuff like that.”

“But if she wasn’t your girlfriend…”

“What happened before you mom doesn’t matter. All that matters is her and you guys. That’s it. Nothing else.”

“Did you have a lot of girlfriends before mommy?”

“Nope.”

TJ grins. “A lot of booty calls?”

“You know what…?” he chuckles and wraps the five year old in a loose headlock; gently rubbing his knuckles against the top of his head until he’s wriggling and squealing and giggling. “...you’re a troublemaker. I love you, though,” he drops a kiss on the top of his son’s head and pulls him tightly into him. “So much.”

“I love you too, daddy. I’ll be happy when we go home. When things go back to normal./”

“Yeah,” Tyler sighs. “Me too.”

****

“We need to talk,” Esme announces, as she steps into Anil’s home office and closes the door behind her.

“Can’t do,” Nik says, as she slips into the chair behind the desk and opens the laptop. “I have a video chat with Yaz and the team in five minutes and…”

“I can’t wait,” Snapping the lid of the computer closed, she scoops it up and places it in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “We’re talking, and we’re talking right now.”

“Esme, I don’t have time for this. In case you forgot, some of us actually have to work. We don’t get the luxury of just sitting around and enjoying ourselves.”

She ignores the cheap shot, smirking as she takes a seat in the remaining empty chair. “I bet you always make time for Nathan, don’t you. I bet you even showed up at his hotel room while he was on jobs and was supposed to be working. Funny how it’s ‘do as I say, not as I do’ when it comes to you. If had have been you that Tyler was fucking in Dhaka, it would have been okay, huh? It’s only became an issue because it was someone else.”

“What you two did was wrong. What I do in my spare time…”

“You hypocritical bitch. Tyler was on the clock every time you’d show up at his hotel trying to get him to bang you in the same way he was on the clock every time you sent him a text message or a picture of yourself. About when you sent those stupid, goddamn long winded emails about wanting to fuck him and crying about what a mistake he was making with his life. I’ve seen them. I’ve read them. You don’t think he’d show me? We don’t keep secrets, especially not marriage destroying ones. And I saw what you wrote in that report; the one in the file Anil gave us. Unprofessional behaviour? Saying we’d be reprimanded? Tell me what’s so professional about a boss sending nudes and sexual explicit messages to one of her workers? One of her MARRIED workers.”

“What I do in my personal life is none of your business.”

“It is when it’s my marriage you’re trying to break up. It’s very much my business when it’s my husband you’re wanting to fuck. Even when I was pregnant you didn’t let up; knowing I was at home with Millie and the twins and I was pregnant...heavily pregnant...with Declan. You were still trying even then. And it just burnt your ass that he kept shooting you down, didn’t it. I admire your tenacity, though. You didn’t give up. Must have hurt getting turned away THAT much. First Gaspar leaves the game and runs off to live in Dhaka, then Tyler decides to get married and have a family. Sucks to have lost your two best. And I’m not just talking merc wise, either.”

“So that’s why you’re here?” Nik smirks. “To bring all this back up? Something we’ve talked about a million times and have tried to put behind us? Get over it, Esme; you got what you wanted.”

“You mean WHO I wanted. Or should I say who YOU wanted.”

Anger flashes in the other woman’s eyes.

“And no. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here about Ovi. Well that’s what I’m going to drag you first about, anyway.”

“Tyler told you.”

“Why wouldn’t he? He has no reason to keep that from me.”

“The reason is that it’s none of your business.”

“Everything that’s going on is my business,” Esme argues. “It became my business the second Mahajan brought my family into this bullshit. When my husband is the one being choked up and drugged, it’s very much my business. In the same way my children being threatened makes it my business. And now you have the goddamn nerve to throw Ovi under the bus? Ovi. Of all people!”

“I already explained to Tyler why…”

“So explain it to me. Explain to me how you figured out Ovi is the mole without any solid proof.”

“I have proof,” Nik informs her. “The visitors logs.”

“Anyone could have signed those. Just to make it look like he was there. That’s shit proof and you damn well know it.”

“That’s reaching, don’t you think? That someone would sign his name? Why would they do that?”

“So we couldn’t figure out who was really there seeing Mahajan. I called the prison, Nik. I spoke to the warden and I sent him a picture of Ovi. No one has seen him there; none of the guards, office staff, the warden himself. Not a single one of them have laid eyes on him. And neither has Mahajan, The warden paid him a visit and asked if his son had been to see him, and he said no. Then he flew into a rage because Ovi hadn’t paid him a visit. Now he’s in solitary, cooling his heels.”

“You actually did all of that?”

“A mother will go to any length to protect her children. And that’s what Ovi is. My kid. He has been since the second we decided to take him in. What surprises me is that you didn’t follow this visitor log stuff up; you didn’t even bother calling the prison. Why wouldn’t you? Why would you just assume the worst about the kid and not even bother to look into things? We have our issues and there’s things I can’t stand about you, but that’s not you. I know how you are when it comes to your job; how well respected you are in the game and you never leave any stone unturned. So I don’t get why you were so quick to blame Ovi.”

“It made sense.” The explanation is short and simple. And makes Esme want to reach across the desk and slap the other woman across the face. The smug, holier than thou smirk that curves Nik’s ruby red lips grating on every one of her already frazzled nerves.

“Why? Because of who his birth father is? You assumed Ovi would have some sense of loyalty to him? He HATES the man. Hates him and everything he stands for and everything he’s done to make his life difficult and to put him in danger. He wants nothing to do with him. Not even in the smallest sense. So for you to assume he’d just bow to his father’s wishes and demands? You were wrong. You were so very wrong.”

“I should have looked into things,” she admits. “I should have…”

“Yeah, you should have. And I can’t help but wonder if you didn’t because you’re trying to protect someone else.”

“Not you,” Nik scoffs. “You’re on the ‘Nathan is the mole’ bandwagon too?”

“Even you have to admit that Tyler’s argument is pretty damn sound. He has a hell of a lot more proof regarding Nathan that you did with Ovi. Yet you were pretty quick to lay the blame on him.”

“What would Nathan have to gain by being a mole? And why would he do it? He has nothing against Tyler. He was one of the first people to step up and want to work for him when you started the business. That’s hardly mole behaviour.”

“Making himself look innocent? Trying to make sure the suspicion stayed off him? I don’t know. But I pulled some strings. The Marine Corps is sending me Nathan’s personnel file. And if there’s anything in there that’s ‘off’...even the smallest thing...I’ll find it.”

“Why would you…?”

“You’re not the only one who knows people, Nik. Who has contacts all over the world. You have no idea who I know or who I can reach out to or who I can get help from. And I normally wouldn’t call in favours and resort to connecting with my past like this, but the second you threw Ovi under the bus, I didn’t have a choice. So I will get to the bottom of his. I will find everything there is to know about Nathan. So if you ARE protecting him...if you are in contact with him...you might want to warn him . Because when I find things out and it turns out it IS him, I will Tyler. And once I do, there won’t be anywhere Nathan can hide. Tyler WILL find him. And you know what will happen when he does.”

Nik sighs heavily, then nods slowly as she considers Esme’s words.

“But I’m not going to sit here and accuse you of protecting him or harboring or whatever the hell you want to call it. You won’t tell me the truth if you are, anyway. So I’m wasting my breath.”

“So we’re done here?”

Esme laughs. “No. We’re not even close to being done. You opened a whole can of worms with me and there’s no way to shove those things back in. What you said to Tyler about Ovi? That was wrong, Nik. You had no right bringing any of that up to him.”

“He wanted to know who I thought the mole was. He…”

“AFTER you tried to make him doubt himself. After you all but laughed in his face and tried to make him feel crazy. You never stop trying to manipulate him, do you. You know what his brain is like; you know he struggles with PTSD and depression and anxiety and all that shit. And you prey on those things. You never miss the chance to fuck with his head. How dare you do that to him; make him think he can’t trust his own mind. Who the hell do you think you are doing that to him? Maybe when he was alone and constantly drunk and high on pain meds you could get away with it. But I won’t let you.”

“He needs you to fight his battles?” Nik snorts. “That's how low he’s sunk, huh?”

“We help fight each other’s battles. That’s what couples do. Healthy ones, anyway. We’re not perfect. Not by a long shot. But we stick up for one another and we have each other’s backs no matter what. And I’m not going to just sit back and let you screw with his head like that. This is my husband. The father of my children. And I would fight to the death to protect him. So don’t you ever...EVER...try to mess with his brain. You won’t get away with it. Not on my watch.”

“I’ll give you credit,” Nik says. “You do love him. And to think I’ve been doubting you for almost seven years. At first I thought maybe it was just a game to you. That HE was a game to you. That you’d get what you want from him and then take off and leave him worse than he was before you met him.”

“Tyler didn’t have anything to give me. In the same way I had nothing to give him. And we MADE something. Together. And I know how much you hate that. I know how much you can’t stand the thought of him being with anyone but you. But here’s the thing, Nik; he was never yours to begin with. He never wanted to be yours. And even if I never came along, he still wouldn’t have been with you. So fuck you for treating him the way you do. And fuck you for trying to wreck my marriage. I feel sorry for you. That you’re so lonely and so miserable that you’d sink low enough to be a homewrecker.”

“Who the hell you think YOU are?” Nik fumes. “Talking to me like this? Who the hell…?”

“I’m a pissed off wife with zero fucks left to give. You hate me so much that you were willing to leave to leave Tyler and I on that bridge. You were so pissed off and so hurt because someone else wanted him that you were willing to leave us there to die. How pathetic is that? I’d be angry if I didn’t pity you so much.”

“Are we done here? Are you done with your little temper tantrum? I don’t know how he puts up with you. The sex must be really damn good.”

“Better than fucking a couch. Which is apparently what you’re like.”

Nik’s eyes narrow.

“And no. We’re not finished. I have one more thing to ask you. And you’re going to answer me. Because this shit has been eating away at me for seven years and I need to know.”

“Something about Dhaka?”

“If there was ever a time to be honest, it’s right now. Do you think you could at least give me that? Some honesty?”

Nik nods.

“Did you know about Gaspar? That he was friends with Asif? That he’d done work for him? Did you?”

“Esme…”

“When we were in that goddamn sewer and Tyler called you, did you know? Is that why you didn’t want to call Gaspar? Why you told Tyler it wasn’t a good idea? Because you knew he was working for Asif?”

“There was talk,” Nik admits.

“What kind of talk?”

“That he’d left the game and gone rogue; went to freelancing. That he was working for some pretty questionable people. And getting paid a lot of money to do it.”

“And Asif was one of these people?”

She nods.

“So you knew. When Tyler called, you knew. Why didn’t you tell him right there and then? When he insisted you call Gaspar, why didn’t you say anything? He would have listened to you. He would have believed you and we never would have gone there.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t…”

“All the resources you had back then and you didn’t know what else to do?! Are you serious right now? What the hell, Nik? You could have someone to get us. Anyone but him. We could have found cover somewhere away from the market area. We could have figured something out.”

“If he’d just left the kid in the street…”

“He was never going to leave Ovi to die. You really thought he would? Considering his past? Considering how he lost his first child and the horrible decision he made leaving him? He was doing it again and he would have rather died then leave Ovi behind. And the fact you even wanted him to makes me sick.”

“It’s the nature of the beast,” Nik reasons. “It’s the game. It’s…”

“He was a fucking kid! He was fourteen years old and you wanted Tyler to dump in the street like trash. Are you that morally bankrupt that you would leave a kid to die? Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?”

“Not everyone is like you. Not everyone has the heart you do. Or that Tyler does.”

“It’s not about being any way or having a certain type of heart. It’s called being a decent human being. HE was never going to leave Ovi behind; it was never an option to him. And when he called you and told you to get a hold of Gaspar, you should have told him what you knew.”

“I didn’t think he’d listen. I didn’t…”

“You didn’t even try! And if he hadn’t listened, I would have convinced him not to trust Gaspar. I would have gotten through to him. I know I would have. But instead you went along with it and we ended up there. You have no idea what went on there; the things that were said and the things that were done. It was a horror show and you could have spared us...all of us...a whole lot of grief if you’d just said something. Look at Ovi; what he’s been through because he had to kill Gaspar to save Tyler. To save all of us, really. Look what that did to him. We spent years taking the kid to therapy. YEARS. You could have prevented all of that. And the bridge? You could have prevented that, too. That one decision to NOT call Gaspar would have changed so much. Instead it fucked so many things.”

“Esme, I never mean for any of that to happen. I never…”

“Look what it’s done to Tyler. All the issues he lives with now. Physically, mentally. He took a bullet to the fucking neck and nearly died and you could have prevented that. He’s blamed himself for Dhaka for seven years. He’s had all this guilt and regret eating away at him all this time. And had you just told him the truth, he wouldn’t be going through what he has been every goddamn day since then.”

She uses the backs of her hands to wipe frantically at the tears that manage to escape; embarrassed by the blatant show of emotion. A mixture of anger and sorrow and her own guilt and regret connect to Dhaka and the long term struggles and agony caused by it.

“Esme…” Nik slides out of her chair and stands up, slowly approaching and then laying a hand on her shoulder. “...I’m sorry...I…”

“No. Don’t.” She shrugs the other woman’s hand off her. “Don’t touch me. Just don’t. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just leave me alone.”

Nik holds her hands up in surrender and then backs away, perching herself on the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“How many apologies have you given me over the past seven years? First when you questioned whether Millie was really Tyler’s and tried putting that doubt in his head. Then manipulating him back into the job. All the effort you put in trying to destroy my marriage. It’s been nothing but apologies from you. Empty ones, at that. None of them have been sincere. And I’ve fallen for it every goddamn time. Even when you showed up at Millie’s birthday party saying you wanted to patch things up and put it all behind us.”

“And I do,” Nik insists. “That was true; I do. It’s time for that, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was. But I was wrong. Again. What’s the saying? ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me’?. I’m done believing you. I’m just done. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t let you hurt Tyler the way you do. Because he’s a good person and he deserves so much better than that. You have no idea what he’s like; away from all of this. The kind of husband and father he is. And I won't let you disrespect him like you do.”

She clears the least of the tears from her face and stands. “I appreciate you being here. That you were willing to come here and watch out for the kids and I. And I DO feel safer knowing you’re here. I can’t deny that you’re one of the best at this job. And I DO trust you to keep me and the kids safe. I’ll give you all that. But we will never...ever...be friends again. I don’t think we ever were, to be honest. You were willing to leave me on that bridge to die all because you were pissed Tyler and I were hooking up on the job. And that’s pretty fucking sick. That you were THAT mad he didn’t want you that you’d just leave us there.”

“Esme, I never…” Her cell phone -tucked in the front pocket of her well tailored slacks- vibrates, and she heaves a weary sigh when she checks to see who it is. Then gives an apologetic smile.

“It’s probably your brother,” Esme says, and moves for the door. “Get to your meeting. I’ve kept you long enough.”

“We can talk later. We can sit down and talk and…”

“No,” she says, as she opens the door and puts one foot out into the hall. “No more talking. I’m done.”


	69. Chapter 69

“This is some bullshit.” Esme laments from the threshold between the bedroom and ensuite bath. An exaggerated pout on her face and both hands planted firmly on her hips, clad in one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, hair still damp from a shower. 

“What’s bullshit?” Tyler doesn’t look up from where he lies in the middle of the bed, entertaining Addie by rubbing his forehead and his nose against her stomach.

It’s too early for her to be laughing, but her smile is beautiful; broad and bright and causing the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose to crinkle. She’s nothing short of incredible. Tiny and innocent and precious and so alert and always fully engaged; recognizing faces and voices -especially those of her parents and Millie- and quickly and eagerly responding to them. Both of his girls had come following extremely difficult and trying times; Millie being conceived in Dhaka and born while he was still on the long and painful road to recovery, and Addie making her presence known during the Michael McMann fiasco. The only two actually born in Australia; oldest one of the big medical facilities in Sydney and the youngest in a tiny, countryside hospital in Cooktown.

All of his children are miracles in his eyes. In all intents and purposes, he should have died that day on the Sultana Kamal Bridge; mere minutes from taking his last breaths. Even before Dhaka, he’d never thought he’d be a father again; destined to live his life alone and miserable in that shack in the outback, chasing handfuls of pain pills with whiskey and beer or whatever hard liquor he could get his hands on. He’d never in a million years that he’d meet someone that could deal all of his bullshit; someone who would look past just how broken and battered he was. That could deal with not only his job of choice, but the amount of baggage he brought to the table; the guilt, regret, and self loathing and addiction issues. And there was no way -no matter how amazing the person was IF he managed to find them- that he’d get married again. His first experience had been an epic disaster; mostly on his part, but some of the blame falling on the ex as well. After that, he’d had no desire to put himself -or anyone else for that matter- through that crap again.

Seven years ago, everything changed in the short course of a week. From the moment he watched that cute little brunette -all pierced and tatted up- step onto his front porch and play with his dog, to those five days in that cramped and dirty hotel room in downtown Dhaka. And finally that fateful and near life ending moment on the Sultana Kamal Bridge when she was so willing to put her life on the line to save his. That was the moment his new life began. Cemented by her decision to stay in Australia -both at his bedside in the hospital and in his life outside of it- and finding out there was a baby on the way. After that he’d vowed to never take that second chance for granted. That he wouldn’t let a day go by without feeling for grating for her sticking around and somehow managing to look past all of his baggage and issues and give him a shot.

“I’ve put on five pounds,” she grumbles. “Already. And I can’t be any more than that eight or nine weeks. And I’ve already put on weight? What the hell is that about?”

“Maybe it’s not from the baby. Maybe you just put on weight.”

“Is that a polite way of saying I’m getting fat?”

“What?” He can’t help but laugh. “No. I wasn’t saying that at all. I’m just saying that maybe you put on some weight. What’s the big deal? It’s five pounds. Who gives a shit?” He turns his attention back to Addie, nuzzling his nose against her tummy and then pulls back to look at her, grinning at the sight of her smile. Then dropping his head once again when his tiny hands reach up to explore his hair and his ears.

“I give a shit.”

“Well I don’t. I don’t care if you put on fifty pounds. Or a hundred. Doesn’t matter to me.”

“I HAVE been stress eating,” she admits with a forlorn sigh. “Or maybe it's both stress eating AND trying to put enough away to properly feed Addie. Or maybe my body is already squirreling stuff away for little bean.”

“Maybe it’s a mix of all three. I don’t know. It’s five pounds. Relax.”

“You of all people should know to never...ever...under any circumstance...tell me to relax. You’ve had seven years to learn that. What do you think? Do I look like I’ve gained weight?”

“I think…” rolling over onto his back, he picks Addie up and lays her on his chest. Then runs a palm over her hair before trailing his fingers over the tops of both her hands; tiny fists tightly curling around the index digits. “...you look exactly the same as you did a month ago.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” Esme huffs. “Look at me. Please?”

Tyler sighs, then turns his head towards her.

“Do I look any different?”

“No. Not in the slightest.”

“What if I do this?” She lifts up the bottom of the t-shirt; drawing it tightly to her waist. “Anything?”

“Still nothing.”

“What about my butt and my hips?” She turns her back towards him. “Do they look any bigger?”

“No. But your ass looks amazing in those shorts. How come you don’t wear those more often? Because I’d totally tap that.”

“You already do. As much as you want. I think you need glasses. Maybe your eyesight got screwed up seven years ago and it’s just been getting progressively worse.”

“My eyes are just fine. You look the same. Honest. You’re just as beautiful now as you were when I first met you. Even more.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“You are,” he insists. “You became more beautiful when you became a mom. More and more beautiful with each one.”

“Alright smooth talker,” she laughs, then climbs onto the bed. “You don’t have to lay it on THAT thick.”

“I’m a pro at this now. This isn’t my first rodeo. And you are. Even more beautiful now.”

“Most biased husband on earth,” she declares, and leans down to peck his lips. “No wonder I love you so much. Other than the pretty blue eyes and the big muscles and the stupidly handsome face.” She stretches out on her side, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before resting her head against it. “You feel okay?” she asks, running her finger along the tattoo that graces the left side of his neck, then the scar left behind from Farhad’s bullet. Frowning at the sight of the purple and black bruises; perfect finger impressions.

“A little better. Each day I hurt less. So I figure that’s a good thing.”

“This could have been really dad,” she says, as her fingers continue to explore the scar and the marks surrounding it. “I don’t think it would have taken much to fuck that vein up. They didn’t even think they’d be able to fix it.”

“But they did. And it’s been almost seven years. If nothing’s happened to it by now, I don’t think anything will.”

“I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t want you taking it either.”

He places Addie on the bed between them, then moves onto his side. “You know what I don’t want? You worrying so much.”

“It’s kind of hard not to when your husband is a mercenary.”

“You knew this...about the life...you knew it.”

“Just because I knew about it and willingly walked into it, doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about it. I can be okay with the job but not like what you’re out there. And what happened the other night was way...way...too close for comfort.”

Tyler nods in agreement. 

“You’re feeling better though? At least a little?”

“It’s a lot better.” 

In some ways, it’s the truth. The puncture wound from the needle is healing and not as sore to the touch, as are the bruises that occupy nearly every inch of his neck. And there’s no pain when he swallows and he can actually move his head from side to side. The knee isn’t as bad; graduating from wearing the brave for twenty four hours a day to being able to take it off at night. But the shoulder remains the same; if not worse. Mobility hovering around sixty percent and both the pain and the pins and needles in his hand a near constant occurrence. But there’s no sense telling her about that; there’s nothing she -or anyone else, for that matter- can do about it right now. And it will only cause her even more worry and stress. 

“You look a lot better,” she observes. “And you slept pretty good today. That was a nice little nap you had. I couldn’t even wake up; no wonder the kids thought you were dead. You scared the ever loving shit out of Tanner. And you say I worry a lot.”

“That kid’s going to have gray hair and an ulcer before he gets into grade one. He is definitely your son.”

“Are you honestly going to lie here and deny that he’s way more like you than either of us ever thought? Is he not the most overprotective child you’ve ever seen?”

“When it comes to his momma? Yes. He’s crazy protective of you.”

“Who else is like that? Who else is also very protective of me? Who else gives themselves gray hairs and ulcers stressing out over things that most likely will never happen? Who’s the one that used to worry I had some incurable diseases every time   
I got severely ill before finding out I was pregnant? Who’s the one that punched a guy out for following me home from the post office?”

“Any husband would have done that. That was fucked. Who does shit like that? Sees a pretty woman out and about and follows her home? Even after she said she was married. Who does that? Look, I get that my wife is hot and usually I’m okay with guys checking her out and making comments here and there.”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“Okay, maybe I’m NOT okay with it. But to actually follow you home? What the fuck?”

“He thought I was lying when I said I was married.”

“You had a wedding ring and you were already showing with Addie. Which makes it even worse!”

“He was not expecting there to be a husband. Especially a husband that looks like you. You were the last thing he expected.”

“I’ll give him some credit; he still tried to square up.”

“I think he learned pretty quick not to be such a creeper. I’m pretty sure you broke both his jaw and his pride.”

“I should have broke his whole fucking face.”

“So protective.” She presses a kiss to his lips, then combs her fingers through his hair. “I kind of like it sometimes; when you get like that. It’s sexy and it’s primal and it makes me want to jump you. Not that it takes much to begin with. But it makes me extra hot for you.”

He grins. “Really?”

“Really. Who doesn’t want a man’s willing to go to those lengths to protect you? And you’re willing to go to some pretty extraordinary ones. I mean, look where we are right now. Look what we’re going through. Look what we’ve BEEN through. Most men would say fuck it, no woman is worth this.”

“Well I’m not most men, so…”

“Very true. You’re a man among men, Tyler Rake. You now, it’s hard to get used to when you go from someone who is absolute to someone like you.” A frown suddenly takes hold of her face, and her eyes are dark and downcast as she lightly combs her fingers through Addie’s hair.

“What’s wrong?” He lays a hand on her cheek, thumb repeatedly brushing across her chin and over her lips. “What’s going on?”

“I hate that I do that. That I bring it up...that I bring HIM up...after all this time. It’s been seven years almost and I still do it; compare you to him. And I don’t mean to do it. It just...happens.”

“There’s not much to compare when the guy was a total gutter rat. It’s more like you’re just acknowledging that than actually comparing.”

“I still hate that I do it. That I even think about him at all.”

“He DID exist, babe.”

“And he doesn’t anymore and that’s a good thing. The trash took itself out. How horrible am I to even think that? What kind of human being thinks shit like that, let alone says it?”

“That kind that was treated like crap and had enough of it? Let’s even pretend he had any redeeming qualities. He was complete and utter trash. I met the guy, remember? He showed up at our house.”

“And at the park,” Esme adds. “He tried to lure TJ over to talk to him.”

“Excuse me? What?”

“I took the kids to the park with Nik and Yaz and he showed up and was watching us and he waved TJ over.”

“Yeah, because that’s totally normal. Why did you not tell me about that?”

“Because you’re even more protective of your children than you are of me and I knew you’d lose it. And I handled it. Or so I thought. Until he tried to kill you. Twice.”

“He’s not the first person who’s tried and I can guarantee he won’t be the last.”

She frowns. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better how?”

“Look how many have tired and I’m still here. Pretty good track record, don’t you think?”

“Let’s not test it too far,” she suggests. “I kind of like you breathing and in one piece.”

“Good. ‘Cause I plan on staying in one piece. AND breathing; just to clarify.” 

He pushes a hand through her damp hair, then presses a kiss to her brow and then the tip of her nose before laying his forehead against hers. For several minutes they lay in silence; eyes closed, his hand on the side of her face and his thumb skimming across her chin and lips. Her own hand rubbing up and down the outside of his bicep; fingertips trailing over the thick, jagged scar that mars his skin. The aftermath of the deep and bloody wound she’d initially -and hastily- stitched up with a needle and dental floss. 

“I have to tell you something.” she says, and his thumb comes to rest on her chin.

“Is this where you finally admit that Declan belongs to the cable guy in Telluride?” Tyler teases.

“No,” she manages a laugh. “Although I almost fish it was. You’d probably take that news a lot better.”

“I don’t think I like the sounds of this and you haven’t really said anything yet. Is there something wrong? Are you okay? Are WE okay? Did something happen with the baby or…?”

“No. Nothing like that. I’m fine. WE’RE fine. It’s just…” she takes a deep, shaky breath and exhales slowly. “...you know I talked to Nik today, right? I told you I was going to. About what I found out from the prison. About Ovi.”

He nods. “I’m so fucking proud of you for that. You’re not even in the job anymore and you still got shit done.”

“Did she say anything to you? About what we talked about? Or more like what I dragged her for?”

“She pretty much avoided me all day.”

“I went on her,” Esme admits. “I mean, I really went off. Like, so close to throat punching her off. And I could have if I didn’t have a human inside of me to keep alive. It was about Ovi and it was about you because I’m sick and fucking tired of trying to screw with your brain like she always does. She had no goddamn right throwing Ovi under the bus and she had no right making you question yourself or making you feel like you’re crazy. And I may or may not have brought up the fact she’s spent years trying to get you into her bed. Not even giving a shit that you’re married or have kids or a pregnant wife at home. And she had it coming. Believe me, she did.”

“Oh I know she did. I’m just surprised you didn’t snap sooner.”

“But there’s more.”

He scowls. “How much more?”

“I needed to know. For my own peace of mind. And yours too.”

“Okay, you’re starting to ramble and not making much sense. What did you need to know?”

“I needed to know about Gaspar. If she knew that he was friends with Asif.”

“So we’re talking about Dhaka?”

“Don’t get upset,” she pleads.

“I’m not upset. I just wish we didn’t have to talk about it at all. What good does it do? It’s been almost seven years, Esme. Why can’t we just let it go? Why can’t we just move on from it?”

“I want to. I do. And most days I AM past it. But I had to know, Tyler. So I asked.”

“And?”

“She knew. Or at least she’d heard stories; about him doing work for Asif when he left the game. And not just him either. A lot of questionable people with a lot of money. We’ve talked about it ; you and I. I’ve told you more than once that I thought she knew. And you’ve mentioned wondering about it.”

He nods, hand dropping from the side of her face to rest on Addie’s stomach. Needing something...anything...to ground and center himself. Even if it is the gentle rising and falling of her now sleeping form; each breath soft and warm. Or even the smooth cotton of her sleeper under his fingertips. Suspecting is one thing; having it confirmed is an entirely different story.

“Please don’t freak out. I’m not telling you this to upset you.”

“I know you’re not.”

“I asked her why she didn’t tell you. Why she didn’t just say something when you were so insistent she call him. She said she didn’t think you’d listen. You would have, right? Tell me you would have listened.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I was pretty fucking desperate. I needed to get you and the kid out of there.”

“If I had told you, would you have listened to me? If Nik hadn’t been able to get through to you and I tried to convince you, would have listened?”

“Probably.”

“If she’d just told you it would have spared us a whole lot of grief. You only took us there because you didn’t think you had any other choice. Because you were doing what you had to to keep us safe. But I know you, Tyler. I know you so well. I know you’d thought he was even the slightest bit of a threat, you would have thought of something else. You’re smart and you’re resilient and you would have found another way to get us all out of there. I know you would have. And if she’d only told you…”

“What does it matter? It was seven years ago. I can’t go back and change it. I can’t go back in time and do things differently. I just can’t. I’m the one who took you there. You and Ovi. I’m the one that fucked up. I’m the one that insisted she call him. I didn't really give her the chance to say much, did I.”

“She should have told you,” Esme insists. “She should have just said something instead of waiting for you to give her the opportunity. I’m not blaming you. I’m not saying that it’s your fault because you didn’t listen or didn’t give her a chance. That is not what I’m saying at all.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Tyler, look at me. Please. Look at me.” Her hand rests on his cheek as he glances up. “I am NOT blaming you. I have never...ever...blame you. Not for Gaspar, not for sending me away with Saju and Ovi, not for the bridge. Not for any of it. I have never once blamed you. None of that was your fault.”

“I should have never taken you there.”

“You thought you didn’t have a choice. You did what you had to do. You didn’t know what he was up to and things would go to shit. You thought you could trust him; you had no reason not to. He was your friend.”

“Some fucking friend,” Tyler scoffs. “I save his ass and he turns around and does that?”

“And that’s on him. Not you. You didn’t know how things would turn out. But Nik did. She knew and she still did nothing. This is on her. The whole fucking thing is on her. If she’d told you, none of that shit would have happened. We never would have gone there and Gaspar never would have tried to kill you to get to me and Ovi. And Ovi never would have never had to shoot him. We would have found somewhere else to go. You’re not a stupid man. We would have figured something out.”

“But we didn’t get that chance, did we.”

“We didn’t get a chance at a lot of things. Remember in the hotel? When we decided we wanted to try and make something out of nothing?”

He nods.

“We were going to travel. That was our plan. No time frame, nothing else to think about other than getting to know each other and seeing if we could actually stand one another. Outside of sex.”

He gives a small laugh. “I think we figured that out pretty quick; you sleeping for weeks in that chair by my hospital bed pretty much proved you could tolerate me. You saw me at the worst pretty much off the hop.”

“We had all those plans. We’d just go wherever we felt like that. I’d come and stay with you for a bit in The Kimberley and you’d come to Colorado. We had all those plans and not one of them worked out. They never got the chance to.”

“Because I…”

“No. Because Nik never said a goddamn word. That one moment...that one opportunity...could have changed everything. We never would have ended up on that bridge.”

“We would have. That was the only way out there and you know that.”

“But we wouldn’t have ended up there the way did,”

“You don’t know that. What happened at Gaspar’s had no bearing on what happened on the bridge.”

“Everything is connected, right? You say that all the time.”

“And IF that’s true, if things didn’t go down the way they did, we probably wouldn’t have what we have now. Millie was already on the way; she would have been the only sure thing. Everyone else? The boys? Addie? They may have never existed. And I’d take a bullet to the neck over and over again if it meant they’d be here.”

“But I hate what it’s done to you!” she cries. “ I hate all this guilt and the regret you’ve carried around for seven goddamn years. Over something that wasn’t your fault! I fucking hate that for you. And I hate the PTSD and the depression and the anxiety because I hate seeing you struggle and I hate not being able to help you.”

“You DO help. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I’m so fucking angry,” she admits, as tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m angry and I’m hurt because she could have changed everything. Had she just told you. Had she just said something….”

“You know what? You need to calm down.” He slides his hand to the back of her head and presses his lips to her forehead. “I need you to calm down, okay? Just try and relax. Just breathe. There’s a little human inside you that needs you to calm down.”

“I’m just angry. And hurt.”

“I know you are. And you have a right to be. But you need to relax. I need you to relax.”

Her eyes close briefly. And she inhales deeply and exhales slowly and shakily. “I’m selfish.”

“Why? Why would you say that? What…?”

“I AM selfish. Because I’m angry about what I went through because of her. On the bridge. I’m angry because of what I had to do. What I had to see.”

“That doesn’t make you selfish.”

“She doesn’t know what it was like. No one does. Seeing you like that. Knowing you were going to die if   
I didn’t do something. And I couldn’t let you die, Tyler. I couldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t hate what I saw or what I had to do. And I can’t get it out of my mind; no matter how hard I try. The dreams always find me. They’ll go away for a little bit, but they always come back. And it’s the look in your eyes and all the blood and how scared I was and how desperate I was to keep you alive. I can’t get any of that out of my head. And that’s why I’m angry. In a selfish way. Because Nik could have prevented all of that from happening.”

“Baby...stop…” He places a series of kisses across her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, and across the tops of her cheeks. “..it’s okay.”

“And I would make that decision again. To save you. I would make it a million times over. But it doesn’t mean it was easy. And no one knows what it was like; to have to do something like that. But I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t go back and make a different decision. I’d do the same thing all over again.”

“I know you would. There’s no doubt in my mind you would. And believe me when I say I wish you never, ever had to do what you did. And maybe I’M being selfish when I say this, but I’m glad it was you that was there. That you had the balls to stick around when everyone else took off. That you were actually willing to die for me.”

“I wasn’t leaving you there. I would have never done that. Even if things had never happened between us...if those five days never happened...I still wouldn’t have left you there. But I didn’t hurt my decision, that’s for sure. I admit there were some feelings already; I guess I wanted to see how MANY there were. And now I sound like some insane weirdo that gets attached way too quickly and easily.”

He chuckles. “You’re not a weirdo. I had some feels too.”

“Yeah?” She wipes at her tears with the back of her hand. “You? YOU had feels?”

“Some,” Tyler admits. “Little ones. Good ones. I know I liked them. I liked how things felt. I know I liked sharing a bed with you and how I always thought you looked so cute first thing in the morning with your hair all messy and that adorable, sleepy little smile you’d give me. I know I liked how it felt when you’d always find a way to touch me or brush up against me even when we were on the street. And I liked you how you looked in my t-shirts.”

She laughs at that. “Even then I liked stealing your clothes. I liked the way they smelled. I liked YOUR smell. Even back then.”

“Well you looked really cute in my stuff. Even if I did bitch about it.”

“You still bitch about it sometimes.”

“You’ve always looked so cute in my shit, though. And when you put on one of my dress shirts and you’ve got nothing else on? Yeah. That’s a huge turn on.”

“It doesn’t take much with you,” she teases.

“Maybe not. But you’re the first that's gotten a reaction THAT quickly.”

“Really?”

“Really. You don’t even have to work at it. I watch you put her hair up or you look at me a certain way, and it’s game on. I’m done. I’m ready to.”

She laughs once more, then rests her forehead against the bridge of her nose.

“You okay now?” He gently squeezes the back of her neck. “You good? Feel better now that you’ve gotten all that out?”

Esme nods. “There’s more.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“It’s just one more thing. Could you get me a drink first? And some of those meds that stop me from puking? Because your spawn has me feeling like total shit right now.”

“Only because I feel really guilty for being responsible for making you feel like shit,” he chides, then presses a kiss to her lips before sliding out of bed.

****

“So what’s the other thing?” Tyler asks, as he lays on his side, room now shrouded in darkness; Addie sleeping soundly in the cradle nearby. And he gathers his wife in both his arms and pulls her tightly and protectively into him; chests and stomachs pressed together, her head nestled under his chin.

“You have to really promise this time not to freak out.”

“Sorry. You only get one ‘no freaking out’ conversation per day.”

“Promise,” Esme insists. “That you won’t get upset. Because it was a long time ago and getting upset about it does nothing.”

“So it’s about Dhaka too?”

She nods.

“Of course it is. Why do I even ask?”

“I have to tell you because I have been carrying this shit around since it happened and I can’t keep it all wrapped up inside anymore.”

“That’s ironic. Considering you’re always giving me shit for doing the exact same thing.”

“You promise?” Her fingers scrape along his rib cage. “Promise me.”

He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I promise.”

“I talked to him. Gaspar. At his house.”

“I know. You told me that a couple months ago.”

“I need to tell you the whole thing. And I probably should have told you when it happened and I’m sorry I didn’t. The best I can do is tell you about it now. Just to get it off my chest.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“He was waiting for me. In the hallway. When I got out of the shower. He was waiting to confront me.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“Because he didn’t like me. Because I guess you and I gave off some sort of vibe that something was going on between us. I don’t know; maybe it was the way we looked at each other or the way you came across so protective and attentive to me. I don’t know how he knew, but he did.”

“He asked me,” Tyler admits. “When we were talking in the kitchen . Said he could tell something was going on and wanted to know exactly what it was. Guess when I refused to talk about it, that was all the answer he needed. And I told him to leave you and the kid alone; that it was better if he did. I don’t know I said it, but I didn’t like the way he looked at you. Or the way he kept calling you ‘the girl’ even when you were in the room. Fucking pissed me off. I wanted to elbow him in the face more than once because of it.”

“He reminded me of a creepy uncle that shows up drunk to Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner and always leers at the young girls and makes them sit on his lap so he can try to cop a feel.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tyler chuckles. “What kind of holiday dinners did you have growing up?”

“Not my family, per say. They’re their own brand of crazy. But that’s what he reminded me of. He actually asked you? About me? If something was going on between us?”

“He said he could tell something was up. Said I got too ‘defensive’ when it came to sticking up for you and not wanting him around you. He had a rep for being too ‘handsy’ with women; whether they said fuck off or not. I wasn’t taking that chance with you. But I didn’t tell him. About us. Wasn’t any of his goddamn business.”

“Well he definitely had it figured out. Not that I cared about that. I didn’t crap if he knew. But he took it very personally.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“He claimed he was protecting you. He told me you weren’t in your right frame of mine and your life was a mess and you were prone to making bad decisions. Which I obviously was.”

“Maybe to him. Best decision I ever made was giving in to you.”

“You gave in to me? Okay. That’s not how things went down and you know it. YOU seduced ME.”

“You and I remember that first time very differently/”

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“You made the first move. Don’t even try and deny it. You knew exactly what you wanted and how to go about getting it. And you will never change my mind about it. You were totally the aggressor.”

“And you liked it.”

“I so did,” she admits, and giggles against his throat.

“So what did he say?” Tyler combs his fingers through her hair, allowing the silky, now dry tresses to slip between them.

“He said that he had me all figured out. That I wasn’t the cute, sweet, innocent little thing you thought I was.”

“I could have told him you were definitely not innocent.”

“He said he knew my ‘type’. And the kind of games my ‘type’ likes to play. And that when I was done having my fun with you, I’d leave you worse off than you already were. That when I got what I wanted, I’d take off and not give a shit about the damage I did to you.”

“He said that?”

Esme nods. “He said I was whoring myself out to you to guarantee I’d get out of Dhaka. That fucking you assured me safe passage and that giving you hope of something more made you try even harder to get me out of there.”

He sighs heavily, then places a kiss to the top of her head and runs his hand through her hair and down her spine, settling on the small of her back.

“And none of that was true. Not a single word of it. And I tried telling him that but he was so insistent and so hateful and I knew right away he was a threat. And I wanted to tell you. I SHOULD have told you. But he was your friend and we barely knew each other and I thought for sure you’d believe him over some random girl that spent five days sucking your dick whenever you wanted.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he gently scolds. “It wasn’t like that. That’s not all it was. Those five days.”

“I wasn’t playing a game.” The tears come again, and she pulls back to look at him. “You weren’t a game, Tyler. I don’t why things happened the way they did, but I wanted them to happen. None of it was a game. I know I lied and I conned for a living, but that was my job. It’s what I had to do to help guys like you. But I never lied to you or tried to con in any way.”

“I know, baby. You don’t have to tell me that. You don’t…”

“I do,” she insists. “Or I feel like I do. I wanted you. And not just physically. I wanted to spend time getting to know you and that’s why I agreed to the whole travelling thing. But I really thought we’d connected outside of sex and that we had a chance of making something really good.”

“And we did. Regardless of Dhaka, regardless of what happened on the bridge. We DID make something good. We made something really fucking great. And I’d do it all again if it led us to where we are right now. Living in Australia, five kids, one on the way….” his hand slides around to rest lightly against her stomach. “...if we had to go through all that shit again to get here, I’d do it. In a heartbeat.”

“And I would too. No questions asked. I’d stay on that bridge and I’d save you a thousand times over if that’s what it took. Not a single word I said to you in Dhaka was a lie. And I definitely wasn’t whoring myself out to you so you’d get me out of there. Please tell me you know that.”

“Of course I know that. I never once thought any of that.”

“But HE did. He thought I was lying to you and using you. And I wasn’t, Tyler. I wasn’t.”

“I know, he stresses. “I know you weren’t.”

“You weren’t a mark. You never were. And that fact he said that…”

“Who gives a fuck? He was a total dick. Who gives a shit what he said or what he accused you of. None of it’s true. It’s not true now and it wasn’t true then. You should have told me. I would have handled it.”

“You mean you would have knocked him on his ass.”

“I would have done a lot more than knocked him on his ass.”

“Even then you were all sorts of protective.”

“Well, like I said, I had feels. Some pretty big ones.”

“Yeah? How big?”

“I can’t reveal all my secrets. I gotta have something in the vault. They weren’t huge, but they were pretty big. Kind of scary, too.”

“Have you been drinking? Did you take too many pain medS?”

“No. Why?”

“The fact you’re admitting all this, even seven years later? I didn’t think you’d EVER admit to things like that. That you had feels. Especially that early on.”

“I can’t explain what they were. Or how they felt. I mean, the sex ones I can, obviously.’

Esme grins. “Obviously.”

“I just know what I felt. I know that I felt happy whenever you were around. And I hadn’t been happy in a hell of a long time. You made me feel good. About life. About myself. And I trusted you. Right from the second I met you, I trusted you. Something told me I could, I guess I just figured all those things together were a good sign that I stumbled upon something pretty awesome. You know how many years I spent hating myself and wanting to die? And then suddenly I feel all that? That’s kind of scary.”

“I was scared too,” she admits. “Last guy I trusted turned out to be a total dick. Maybe things really are meant to be. Maybe they really do happen for a reason. What’s the chances we would have met in some other way?”

“Never would have happened.”

“So at least one good thing came out of it. Dhaka.”

“A lot of good things came out of it. You. Us. Millie. Four more after her. Another one on the way. That’s a lot of good.”

“You know,” she brushes his hair off his forehead. “I really worry about the fate of the world when you’re the sensible one/”

“I’m going to try and not be offended by that.”

“I’m teasing,” she laughs, then presses a kiss to his lips. “And you took that a lot better than I thought you would. The Gaspar stuff.”

“What’s the point of getting pissed? He’s dead. Not like I can dig him up and bring him back to life and then kill him all over again.”

“You probably would if you could.”

“Damn right, I would.”

“And I should have told you. But I had my reasons and they seemed like valid ones at the time. I didn’t know where things were going with us. And I didn’t want to ruin things before they even started by causing drama with you and your friend.”

“For what it’s worth, I would have believed you.”

“I just want this all to be over,” she says, tears threatening again. “I just want to put this all behind us.”

“I know you do,” he pecks the tip of her nose. “So do I.”

“I want to go home,” she whimpers, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

He gathers her in both arms and rolls over onto his back, holding her as tightly as her body will allow. “I’ll get you home, baby,” he promises. “I’ll get you home.”


	70. Chapter 70

It takes a week and a half to get back to seventy five percent. The knee healing to the point of not having to rely on a brace to provide constant support and the pain and mobility issues no worse than what he’d been experiencing prior to the night he jumped. He no longer experiences any side effects of the drugs that had been forced into him; brain fog dissipating by the end of the fifth day, forgetful moments - aside from the short term memory issues that already hamper him- passing by the way side after a full week, coordination and speech problems finally ceasing to exist when the tenth morning approached. The shoulder remains the same. Pins and needles not nearly as prominent but the grinding and popping deep within the joint and in the surrounding ligaments and tendons worsening; accompanied by a near constant ache that begins at the back of his neck and travels down the entire arm and stops at the wrist. He’d hoped it would subside, or at least return to the level of discomfort and agony he’d already been experiencing for years. That was at least somewhat manageable with mild to moderate pain killers and the alternating of hot and cold compresses or soaks. Nothing works now; not even the more heavy duty meds -that he’d been prescribed to replace the original script- are enough to take the edge off. 

But as his physical issues began to heal, so did his mental woes; sleep somewhat improving, the flare ups of anxiety and panic not so frequent, no longer plagued by continuous thoughts of doom and gloom. His confidence returning; once more trusting his skills and his instincts when just says before he’d been questioning them and second every decision -big or small- that he’d made the night he was attacked and drugged. He’d done everything right; at least according to HIS playbook. There was nothing he could have changed; not a single step that he could have taken differently. It was nothing more than lucky. Horrible on his end, but incredibly fortunate for his assailant. If one good thing had come out of that night -aside from the opportunity to spend much needed quality time with his family- it’s that he’d determined to never get caught off guard again. He’ll be smarter next time. Stronger. Faster. Mahajan won’t get a second chance to destroy him.

“Daddy!” Tanner calls from across the room; lying flat on his stomach on one of the weight benches with a Harry Potter book open in front of him. 

Normally during a workout, he’s both alone AND cranking music; the louder the better to help get the adrenaline -and sometimes the rage, depending on the song- flowing. But when Tanner had looked up at him with those enormous blue eyes and asked if he could come ‘hang out’, he hadn’t had the heart to say no. Nor had he wanted to. They’d never had much of a relationship prior to his return from New Zealand. Tanner had always been ferociously devoted to his mother -and ONLY his other- and could still remember all the hard times leading up to his parents’ six month separation; the intense fighting and harsh, cutting words and the holes that had punched in walls and items that had been tossed across rooms. And as much as it had broken Tyler’s heart to hear that his own child didn’t trust him and was terrified of him, he hadn’t forced the issue; following both the therapist’s and the child psychologist’s advice to not pressure Tanner into having a relationship with him. That there was legit fear and worry that coming on too strong would only push him further away. Instead he’d hung back and let Tanner approach him when he was ready. 

Now they’re in the gym together; him heavy lifting and Tanner contently rocking his body back and forth as he reads aloud from a novel that is way too advanced for his age. 

Tyler quickly finishes his seat -upper body day- and glances towards his son. “Yeah, mate?”

“I can’t pronounce a word. I need your help. Please.”

“You know how we do things. How do you spell it?”

Hair falls across Tanner’s forehead and over his right eyes as he peers down at the book; a finger following each letter as he clearly recites them.

“Sanctimoniously,” Tyler informs him.

“Sanctimoniously,” Tanner slowly repeats. “That’s a long one. It sounds cool coming out of the mouth. And when I say it, it feels neat on my lips and my tongue. I like that one. I like the really big, hard words. What does it mean? Sanctimoniously?”

“It means you should go ask your mom about it. She’s the smart one.”

“You’re smart too. You’re not dumb. Just ‘cause you didn’t go to school as long as mommy doesn’t mean you’re stupid. You’re smart in your own way. A different way. And that’s okay. What does it mean? Sanctimoniously? I know you know.”

“You know how grandma always talks to people like she’s better than them? You know how she always goes on and on about going to church every Sunday and how mommy and I are going to hell for not being married when Millie was made?”

“So sanctimoniously is another word for being a judgy bitch?”

Tyler can’t help but chuckle against the bottle of water pressed against his lips. “Yeah, I guess so. In a way.”

“That’s what you called her two Christmases ago, remember?”

“That’s because she is a judgy bitch. And yes, she IS sanctimonious. She acts like she’s better than everyone else. That we’re all below her. So that means she’s behaving sanctimoniously. Make sense?”

“Yep. Total sense. Grandma does think she’s better than us. I remember she made Millie cry when she said what she did. And Millie doesn’t cry very often so that’s how you know it really hurt her feelings. It hurt my feelings too. Because she’s my sister and I don’t like seeing her sad.”

“You’re a good brother. Even if she doesn’t realize it sometimes.”

“Millie doesn’t like people making a fuss over her. She gets embarrassed if I try to make her feel better or cheer her up. I only want to do it because I love her. She’s very stubborn. She’s definitely your daughter.”

Tyler grins. “You heard your mom say that, didn’t you.”

“Mommy says you’re the most stubborn ass she’s ever met. But she loves you though.”

“You think?”

“Of course she does. It’s so obvious you guys love each other. Which is nice ‘cause like eight kids in my class? Their parents hate each other and are splitting up.”

“It happens. Sometimes moms and dad don’t get along. It happened to me and mommy.”

“But you guys got back together. Because you still love each other and wanted to be together. These mommies and daddies don’t love one another anymore. And that’s sad. I feel bad for the kids. It’s depressing when your mom or dad isn’t around. We at least got to see you sometimes. When you weren’t working. At least you missed us and wanted to see us.”

“I missed you guys a hell of a lot. I always miss you; even when I’m just away from home working. Throw me a towel, would ya?”

Snapping his book closed, Tanner sets it down on the floor and then slides off the bench; racing for the shelf of towels and then hurrying over to his dad with one in his hand.

“Why do girls like big muscles?” Tanner asks, as Tyler uses the towel to scrub at his sweat soaked hair.

“Not all girls do.”

“Mommy does.”

“You’d have to ask your mom why she likes them. I didn’t always have muscles as big as I do now. I was a lot smaller when I met your mom.”

“You were? How much smaller? Were you skinny? You didn’t have muscles then?”

“No. I had them. They just weren’t as big as they are now. And yeah, I guess I was kind of skinny.”

“You were still jacked though?”

“Jacked enough that your mom liked me.”

“Mommy said that it was your eyes and your butt she liked first. Then your hands, then your arms. What did you like about her when you first met her?”

“I don’t know. I guess I liked everything. I thought she was really cute.”

“She IS really cute,” Tanner agrees.

“Guess it was her big, brown eyes.And she had a really nice smile. I liked the way she smiled at me.”

“Made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, didn’t it.”

Grinning, Tyler drops the towel onto the top of Tanner’s head, then vigorously rubs it against his hair. “What do you know about the warm and fuzzies? You’re five.”

“Isn’t that how it works?” Tanner moves the edge of the towel to the top of his forehead, then pulls both sides down along his face and holds them securely under his chin. Hair completely hidden; tanned skin and brilliant blue eyes a striking contract against the white fabric. “Isn’t that what happens when you like someone? You get the warm and fuzzies.”

“Where do you hear this stuff?”

“I dunno. I heard it somewhere. Is it true? Is that what happens?”

“I suppose so.”

“Did you get the warm and fuzzies? When you met mommy? When you thought she was cute and she smiled at you?”

“I guess that’s one way of describing it. I never thought of it as warm and fuzzy, but okay. You wanna help me?”

“Do what? Are you going to bench press me? It’s fun when you do that.”

“Maybe later. Remember how you used to sit on my back while I did push ups?”

“I like that too!” Tanner explains, excitedly bouncing up and down on his heels. “Can we do that? Let’s do that!” He waits until his father is flat on his stomach before climbing onto him, stretching out along him and wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. Giggling at the first two completed push ups. “Daddy?”

“Tanner?”

“Is it wrong that I don’t miss grandma? Uncle Kyle said it's mean. That I don’t miss her.”

“It’s not mean and Uncle Kyle needs to mind his own business.”

“I don’t HAVE to like her, right?”

“You don’t have to like anyone. Whether you’re related to them or not. If you don’t like someone, you don’t like them. I don’t like a lot of people.”

“That’s because you’re antisocial.”

“It’s because I have low tolerance for bullshit. And your grandmother comes with a lot of bullshit. I don’t like her either.”

“She’s mean to mommy. She makes mommy sad. And then you get pissed when she makes mommy sad.”

“I’m protective of your mom,” Tyler reasons. “I don’t like when ANYONE hurts or makes her sad. And your grandma got away with it for a long time. Then I came alone and started sticking up for mommy.”

“Because you love her?”

“That. And because she’s my wife and the mother of my kids. I won’t let people disrespect her. I don’t care who they are.”

“Uncle Kyle said ‘cause grandma’s sick, we should go and see her. Do we really have to? I don’t want to go see her.”

“We probably should,” Tyler admits.

“Why? Why should we pretend to like her just ‘cause she’s sick?”

“What if she gets even worse and you never see her again?”

“You mean like if she dies?”

Tyler nods.

“I hate to sound like a bad person but I wouldn’t be too upset if it happened. She isn’t much of a grandma. She isn’t as nice to us as she is to the other grandkids. I don’t think she likes us very much. She never forgets the other kids’ birthdays, but she ALWAYS forgets ours. And every Christmas, she gives the other kids tons of stuff and we get socks and underwear. I know that makes me sound like a bad boy.”

“It makes you sound smart; that you notice these things.”

“Why doesn’t she like us?”

“It’s me she doesn’t like. She thinks I took my mommy away from her and the rest of the family.”

‘Cause when you almost died mommy stayed in Australia? Because she wanted to be with you and not them?”

“Yup. And then we found out we were having Millie and that REALLY pissed her off.”

“Mommy’s a grown woman and can do what she wants,” Tanner reasons. “It’s not grandma’s business that mommy fell in love with you and wanted to stay with you. And who cares if Millie was made BEFORE you were married? What does it matter? It’s no one’s business.”

“You’re way too logical for your own good.”

“And it’s not about stuff. Presents and crap like that. I don’t care about any of that. It’s about the principle.”

“The principle, huh?” Tyler laughs. “Where do you learn these words?”

“I dunno. I just hear them and I remember them. Why?”

“Because you are insanely smart and I’m insanely proud of you.”

“You are?” Tanner slides further up Tyler’s back, then presses their cheeks together. “You’re proud of me?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? You’re an amazing little human. You’re crazy intelligent, you’ve got a good sense of humour, you have a huge heart. You’re awesome. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different, okay?”

“Okay.” Tanner pecks his cheek, then squeezes his neck. “That makes my heart super happy; that you’re proud of me. And I’m proud of you too, daddy. You’re not the same daddy you were when mommy and you broke up for a bit. I was really mad at you, you know.”

“I know you were. And I was mad at myself. Because I almost lost mommy AND you and Millie and TJ.”

“You were really mean to mommy. All the time. You were always yelling at her and saying bad things to her and making her cry. And it made us cry too; me and Teej and Millie. Because we didn’t want to see our mommy cry. And ‘cause you scared us.”

Tyler scowls. “Get up for a second.”

Tanner obliges, and when Tyler flips over onto his back, he takes his son by the hips and settles him on his stomach.

“I want you to listen to me, okay?”

Tanner nods.

“I never...ever...wanted to scare you guys. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. And I’m not making any excuses for why I did and I hate myself for it. Because I love you guys so much. You’re my entire world and I am so lucky to all of you. Things were messed up, mate. I was messed up. I wasn’t in a good place and I didn’t know how to get out of it and I took it out on the wrong people. I took it out on your mom. Who I love more than I could ever possibly explain to her OR you. I never meant to hurt her. And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself to the things I did and the things I said.”

“But mommy forgives you. And I forgive you. We’re buddies now. Best buddies.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “We are. And I’m really glad that we’re best buddies.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I was mad at you. That I didn’t like you very much.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I deserved it.”

“But I love you. I always have. And I AM proud of you. ‘Cause you’re not the same daddy you were back then. You’re better. You’re the best. And I think when it’s just us. Spending time together.”

“So do I, mate. And when we get home, we’ll do more of it, yeah?”

Tanner nods.

“I love you. I love you so much. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

Tanner smiles and then stretches out along Tyler’s body; curling his arms around his neck and laying his head against his shoulder. “I won’t.”

****

He finds her asleep in the middle of their bed; stretched out on her side with both her and his pillow tucked into her head and Declan and Addie both napping along with her. The toddler curled up with his diapered bum pressed into the small of Esme’s back, and one of her hands gently yet protectively resting on Addie’s back as she lays in front of her. It’s a sight that both makes him smile and tugs at his heartstrings, and he notices how the resemblance between mother and daughter is becoming so much more noticeable as Addie gets further away from her newborn days. The same colour and texture of hair; thin yet full, with natural red highlights that sparkle when caught in the sun. Almost the exact profile; long dark lashes and identical slopes of their noses and the freckles across the bridges, even the same chin and shape of the ears; Esme’s slightly lower set. Both incredibly beautiful and so goddamn perfect in his eyes. And he can’t resist pulling his cell from the pocket of his gym shorts and snapping a picture; setting it as his lock screen and then sending her a copy of it to his wife’s phone.

Delcan is awake when he returns from taking a shower; flat on his back with his hands behind his head as if sunning himself on the beach during a tropical vacation. Red hair -which is becoming more vibrant as the weeks go by- mussed and his cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes fixated on the ceiling.

“Daddy!” He quietly -yet cheerfully- greets. “Declan sleep. Mommy sleep too. And Addie.”

“Let’s not wake the girls up yet, yeah? They need their sleep. Especially mommy. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” the toddler agrees, then wraps both arms around Tyler’s neck when he leans down to pick him up. “Daddy tired?”

“A little. You still tired?”

“Nope. No tired. Declan no tired.”

“Gotta go pee?”

“No pee.”

“You sure?” Out of all the first four, he’d been the quickest and easiest to train; hitting the milestone at only seventeen months and never looking back. Another one that will be too smart for their own good.

“I’m sure.”

Tyler climbs onto the bed; leaning back against the headboard and grimacing at the stiffness and pain in the knee when he stretches out his legs. It had felt great while he was working out; occasional tenderness and tightness, but nothing too concerning. But now that he’s at rest, it’s swollen and throbbing and he can only hope that the handful of meds he’d popped after his shower will kick in soon. He presses a kiss to the side of Declan’s head when the toddler reclines against him; a thumb stuck in his mouth, other hand reaching back to run through his dad’s hair and play with his ears. A habit that he’s apparently inherited from his old sister; something they’d both discovered her as sleepy babies trying to soothe themselves. And he keeps the kid calm and settled in hopes of not waking Esme or the baby, bringing up Youtube on his phone and playing ‘Declan’s favorite videos’; a collection that Millie had painstakingly created for him.

“Daddy?” A little hand moves from his ear to his beard, palm lightly and repeatedly rubbing against it.

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, mate.” He places his lips against Declan’s cheek, then lays a hand on his stomach. 

In the last three months alone he’s becoming increasingly verbal and has developed quite the personality; strong willed and feisty with a quick and explosive temper. And extremely affectionate and loving; craving touch and tight hugs and soft kisses. A mix of both mom and dad and a little bit of the grandmother he’ll never get to meet but would have loved him to the ends of the earth and back again. And suddenly he’s thinking of her; his mom. It’s been thirty one years since she died and while never too far away his mind -what with having one child named after her and another that looks just like her-, lately thoughts of her have been far and few between. 

He tries not to dwell; ever thought and warmest of memories of memories with her always leading to bitterness and anger towards his father. Thoughts of ‘why couldn’t have been him?’ and ‘my kids deserve a grandmother that would love them, not a grandfather who barely acknowledges they exist’. And a whole lot of ‘what ifs’ regarding her survival and how different his own life would have turned out. The one that makes it easier to bear is the realization that HAD she lived, he wouldn’t have the life he does now. If everything IS connected...if everything DOES happen for a reason..it’s possible things would have turned out so differently; that he never would have even gotten into the military or the job. The latter the only reason he ever met in the first place. Without getting into the game, he wouldn’t have her or his kids. And he wouldn’t trade any of them for even a lifetime with his mother.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Esme's voice breaks into his reverie, and she taps the tip of her finger against the end of his nose. “You alright? What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” he gives her a reassuring smile. “Just tired. Guess I spaced out a bit.”

“Mom!” Declan leans towards her, removing his thumb from his mouth in order to place both hands on the sides of her face. “Mommy wake up!”

Esme lays a hand on the back of the toddler’s head and pulls him down into a kiss. “You looked so serious,” she addresses Tyler as she runs her fingers through Declan’s hair. Like you were ready to tear someone a new one. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He smooths a palm over her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You okay?”

“I was tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.

“Probably has nothing to do with the fact that you were very demanding and woke me up THREE times.”

“You could have said no and just rolled over and went back to sleep.”

“Do I have stupid written across my forehead?”

“No, But you have a lot of these…” she trails a fingertip along his brow. “...what’s going on? And don’t say nothing because those lines give you away. These ones too,” she taps the corner of his left eyes. “Both sides. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. I was just thinking.”

“About everything that’s happening? That’s BEEN happening?”

“Actually no. It wasn’t about that. For once.:

“It was about…”

“My mum,” Tyler admits, and gives a small smile. “Delcan made me think about her. He looks so much like her. Not just the hair, either. His whole face. His eyes especially. He’s got her eyes; more gray than blue.”

“No wonder he’s so beautiful then. I’ve seen her; in that one picture you showed me. When you were five and it was your first day of school. She was beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “She was.”

“You look a lot like her.”

“You think?” 

“More like her than your dad. I don’t see much of your dad in you at all. Maybe your build; tall and lanky and all legs and torso. You were very lanky at some point, I’m sure; look at TJ and Millie. But in your face? You’re definitely your mom.”

“I have his eyes.”

“Only good thing he had to give. I’m grateful that’s all he passed down to you.”

“What about the drinking problem and the anger management issues?”

“But you put the work in to beat those things,” Esme points out. “He just stayed the same. You’re nothing like him, Tyler. And I wish I could have met your mom. So I could thank her and tell her she made a beautiful son who went on to have beautiful, amazing children.”

He grins. “And you have the nerve to call me sappy?”

“She’d be proud of you. Of how strong you are and how smart you are. How brave. You’re a way better than your father would ever hope to be.”

Smiling, he leans down to kiss her. “I wish you could have met her, too. She would have loved you.”

“Think so?”

“I know so. I think you’re the way she always wished she’d turned out to be. Strong, tenacious, stubborn to a fault. She never got the chance to be that way. Not once she got with him. He was too powerful for her; his issues, his personality. She didn’t stand a chance.”

“Some good did come out of it. It wasn’t all bad. She had you. And I bet those nine years with you were the best years of her life. She loved you. Ferociously. And I’m sure she always wished she could have done more to protect you. It’s not easy; getting away from that. Believe me, I know. I’ve lived it. And maybe in some way she thought saying was somehow better than raising you on her own. Or maybe she was scared that you’d be taken from her; that he’d take her to court and they give you to him. That’s a mother’s worst nightmare; having someone take her kids from her. Maybe he even threatened to do it and that frightened her into staying.”

“Maybe,” he agrees. “I’ll never know. Not like I can ask him. He barely remembers who I am half the time. The other half? When he does? That’s when he likes to look at me like I’m a piece of shit. Because of Austin.”

“That’s a long time ago now,” Esme reminds him. “You aren’t the same man now that you were back then. And it’s on him if he can’t realize that. Fuck him if he can’t look past all of that and see how far you’ve come and who you are now.”

“I just wish I had more memories of her. The ones I do have? They’re not as clear as they used to be;. I don’t know if it’s just because it’s so long ago or if it’s something else in my brain got fucked up after Dhaka.” He takes a long, shaky breath and attempts to hold back the tears that sparkle in his eyes. “But I don't remember things like I used to. I don’t remember HER like I used to. And it makes me feel like total shit.”

“You were just a little boy,” Esme gently reasons, her hand on his stomach, stroking softly. “You were only nine. That’s almost thirty two years ago Tyler. And so much has happened since then. You’ve gone through a hell of a lot in those thirty two years. I think it’s totally understandable that you don't remember her like you used to.”

“She was my mum. Do you remember your dad?”

Not as well I want to remember him.” she admits. “I remember his face. What he smelled like. I sort of remember his smile. But I don’t remember his voice anymore; no matter how hard I try to. You were a lot younger than I was when your mom died. I was seventeen; you weren’t even ten. And look what you were left with. WHO you were left with. That’s a lot of trauma for a little kid to go through. Not just physically either.”

“I don’t want to hate him as much as I do.”

“I think you have every other reason to hate him. I hate my mother and she’s not nearly as bad as him. She’s evil in her own right, but she’s not like that. What made you think of all of this?”

“Declan reminds of her. Guess it just got me a little worked up. And I’m angry with myself; that I don’t remember.”

“Baby…” she scrambles into a sit, then turns her body sideways to face him. “Look how much you’ve gone through just in the last seven years alone. I’m pleasantly surprised you CAN remember anything before Dhaka, especially something THAT long ago. And it sucks and I know it makes you feel like shit, but you can’t help it. It’s not like you want to be this way. You don’t want your brain to be like this.”

“I just wish it had been him instead of her; that she could have been a grandmother to our kids. You know how happy she would have been? How much she would have loved them? And it’s not fair that they’re stuck with him instead of having her.”

“It’s not fair YOU got stuck with him either.”

“Yeah,” Tyler scoffs. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“I’m sorry.” She curls an arm around his neck; pressing a kiss to his temple before resting her cheek against his. “That you lost your mom and got stuck with him and had to go through all the shit you did. That wasn’t fair; at all. You deserved so much better than that. But if there is one bright side…”

“There’s a bright side?”

“Look how amazing you are with your own kids. Look how much you love them. How much they love you. All because you’re so determined to never be like him. So yeah, there is a bright side.”

“Maybe there is,” he agrees, and clears his throat to rid himself of the lump of emotion threatening to choke him.

“You’re a good man. With a huge heart. And you are loved so much.” She places a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then pushes his hair off his brow. “So it IS a bright side. That you didn’t turn into a complete dick like him.”

He gives a small laugh, then pecks her lips and rests his forehead against hers. “You are way too good to me.”

“It’s a hard, dirty job, but someone has to do it,” she teases, then tousles his hair. “Declan, come give daddy snuggles. No one gives better snuggles than you. Come give daddy some loving. He needs it.”

“Daddy sad?” The toddler inquires, as she scrambles back into Tyler’s lap and takes his face in his tiny hands. “Sad daddy. I hug.”

“I’m not sad. I’m okay, mate.”

“I hug,” Declan insists, then tightly wraps both arms around Tyler’s neck. 

“Thank you.” He kisses the side of his son’s head, then curls an arm around his tiny body. “I feel better already. You give the best hugs. Even better than mommy,”

“That’s because mommy does other things for daddy that are even better than hugging,” Esme retorts, then gives a dramatic groan when his SAT phone begins to vibrate on the nightstand. “Fuck. That’s not good. That one hasn’t gone off once since you’ve been here.”

“Fuck!: Declan cheerfully repeats.

“That one is all mommy’s fault,” Tyler says, then leans sideways -one arm still around his son- to grab the phone. A frown immediately capturing his face as he reads the last text message he’d been sent.

“Oh God,” Esme laments. “That look. I know that look. I’ve seen that look a lot in the last seven years. Who is it?”

“Anil. He’s downstairs. And he says there’s trouble.”

****

“We received these two hours ago,” Anil says, as they hunker down in his home office. He’s already had a rough day out on the streets; hair dishevelled, a fresh cut above his left eye, blood staining the thighs of his cargo pants, and nicks and gouges -from both bullets and knives- letting his utility vest. And he issues a heavy sigh as he hands out a manila envelope. “Proof of life.”

“Two hours ago?” Tyler accepts the item being offered. The discomfort in his knee and back causing him to wince as he drops into one of the chairs facing the desk. “And you’re just bringing this to me now?”

“And I had to go and see it for myself. Or the mess that was left behind, anyway. The entire place destroyed, all my men dead. Every single last one. Those motherfuckers.”

“I know what it’s like; to lose a whole team. I’m sorry.”

Anil gives an appreciative smile. “We’ve been scrambling to get more information. Trying to work on putting things together. This is the worst possible outcome. The last thing we wanted.”

“Forgive me for saying this, mate, but the worst possible outcome is Mahajan’s people showing up here and getting their hands on my family. That’s about as bad and as personal as it could get in my eyes.”

“We thought they were safe! Off the grid! It makes no sense. Very few people knew where they were. They’re called safe houses for a reason!” He issues another sigh -a mixture of frustration, anger, and weariness- as he sits behind behind his desk. Then motions for Tyler to proceed with opening the envelope. “This is not what we want. Or need.”

Tyler slides a finger in between the folds of paper and then dumps the contents into his palms. Several coloured photographs of Neysa and Aarav; side by side in rickety plastic chairs, their hands secured behind their backs with zip ties, along with their ankles. The first two photos shot them with burlap hoods over their heads; the others have their face -bruises and battered and terrified- visible and in various stages of distress. But there’s other things he notices; small details that would go unnoticed by the untrained eye. Smooth concrete floors, brick walls, crude lightning, and no windows. 

“They’re in a storage facility,” he announces.

Anil frowns. “You can tell just by looking at those?”

“Those places all look the same. I held a guy in one. It’s a long story.”

“Michael McMann. You tortured him. Took four teeth and two of his fingers.”

“That’s what happens when you fuck with my family. I don’t regret it.”

“I’m not judging. We all get pushed to our limits. We go to lengths we never thought we would. Look at me; what I do to avenge my brother. And now this…” he gestures towards the photos in Tyler’s hand. “...now they’ve grabbed my last remaining ties to Saju. How does this happen? How did they find them?”

“Who knew where they were being kept?”

“A handful of people.”

“That you could trust?”

“That I thought I could trust.”

“And you just got these two hours ago? The time is from three days ago. They waited three days to send proof of life?”

“Unusual?”

“Anything older than twenty four hours generally means shit.” Tyler explains. “You know how much can change in three days? Who sent these?”

“I don’t know,” Anil admits. “They were on the floor in front of my hotel room this morning. Yaz is going through security footage now.”

Tyler frowns. “They were just sitting there? On the floor? That’s a rookie move. That’s someone who hasn’t done this kind of thing before. They’re nervous and too scared to knock on the door and just want to get the job done. How do you even know they’re still alive? I’m sorry, mate, but there’s pictures AREN’T proof. They’re a maybe. And you can’t send someone in on a maybe. You just can’t. No one’s contacted you? No emails, no phone calls, no nothing?”

“I did receive this.” Anil turns the computer monitor towards Tyler, then brings up a video and presses play.

Neysa and Aarav no longer alone or hooded; joined by a tightly restrained and badly beaten and bloody Nathan. Struggling in vain against the ties; kicking and cruising and screaming about revenge and how people will come for him. The BEST people. And a lot of blood...his captors’ blood...will be spilled and their corpses pissed on. And his assailants don’t react until Nathan drops Tyler’s name; a vow that he’ll come there himself and unleash hell on every single one of them. It evokes chuckles and ire in response, and the younger man’s head is yanked back by the hair and his face is spat on and punches and kicks rain down on his upper body.

“Wait...wait…” Tyler leans forward in his chair. “...go back...two frames...blow it up.”

Anil obliges.

“Fucking little shit,” Tyler snarls, fists and jaw clenching at the familiar face. Several years older, but no mistaking it. That long, side scar on his right cheek giving him away.

Anil looks puzzled. “You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him. That’s Farhad. That’s the fucker shot me from behind. Put one in my neck. He was a kid; sixteen at the oldest. But that is definitely him.”

“You’re sure?”

“There’s no mistaking that face. That scar. That’s him. They’re in Bangladesh, Nathan Neysa, Aarav. There’s where they are. They’re in Dhaka.”

“You’re certain?”

“The fucking kid shot me and nearly killed me on a bridge. Yeah, I’m fucking sure.”

“It makes no sense!” Anil runs his hands over his face. “From India to Bangladesh? Why? Why would they be working together? Why would Mahajan reach out to Asif’s people? And that’s what they still very much are; his people. He’s been dead for almost seven years and they still plead loyalty and allegiance. Still live in his home. Still sell drugs and kill and destroy lives. Still keep his business and presence alive. By why work together? Why?”

“They all want revenge in one or another,” Tyler reasons. “Mahajan wants Saju’s family to pay for what he considers failures on Saju’s part. He wants me to pay because he thinks I’m brainwashing Ovi into hating him and wanting nothing to do with him. And I think it’s pretty obvious what Asif’s people are pissed about. They make any demands?”

“They’ll give all three for fifteen million dollars. Or your head in a bag. They’ve added to the bounty on you; it’s up to twenty million now.”

“So now I’ve got every gun in Mumbai AND Dhaka pointed at me,” Tyler concludes. “That’s going to make it a little difficult; to get in there and get them.”

“That’s a suicide mission.”

“It’s why you’re here, right? It’s why you’re bringing this to me. Because you know I’m the only one who can do it. You’ve got a lot of good people working for you. You do. But none of them have this kind of experience. You wouldn’t have gotten into business with me if you already had guys who could do this sort of shit.”

“It is why I approached you,” Anil admits. “I knew you were the best. And I only deal with the best.”

“And it’s the best you want on this, yeah? It’s why you’re here. You’re not here to just show me this shit. You’re here because you need me to do this.”

“As much as I do wish I didn’t have to rely on…”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

“These are different circumstances, Rake. Your health and well being are not my only concern.”

“I’m at almost ninety percent,” Tyler lies.

“Is that physically or mentally?” Anil challenges.

“Physically is the only thing that matters. That’s what’s going to get them out of there. There’s nothing mental about it. It’s all physical.”

“And your family?”

“My family is fine here. They’re safe. And I trust you and your people to keep it that way. My entire life...my entire word...is in their hands. YOUR hands. And I’m trusting you with them. I don’t trust many people.”

“So you’ll do this? You’ll go to Dhaka? Get them out? All three?”

“All three. But I’m going to need more information. A lot more. I am not going in there blind. You need to get in contact with these people. And Mahajan. You need to find out where they’re being held. Because I'm not going there without all that information.”

“I’ll go to the prison when I leave her,” Anil says. “I’ll talk to Mahajan. I’ll get what you need. But you’ll also need people. To go with you. This is not a one person job; you need someone to have your back. Take care of any stragglers, any threats. I’d do it myself, but I’ll be handling someone else’s death. When you go there, I’ll take out Mahajan. End it on both sides. On the same day. Do you have people? That you can take with you?”

“I’ve got a few. One of them might be a really hard sell, but I can convince them.”

“So you’ll go there? You’ll do this.”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “I’ll do it. I’ll go to Dhaka.”


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: PROFANITY

“We need to talk.”

It’s the easiest way to transition into it that he could come up with. After the meeting with Anil, he’d stalled as long as he possibly could. Spending the remaining hours of the day keeping the news secret while working himself to a state of sheer mental exhaustion attempting to come up with the best possible way to tell her. Plastering a smile on his face and adopting an easy going attitude -both fake- while both doting on and spoiling his pregnant wife AND spending time with the kids; easily submitting to every request and demand while simultaneously showing them with affection. 

The moment he’d seen the photos of Neysa and Aarav, he’d known his fate was sealed; he’d be going to Dhaka and there was a damn good chance he wouldn’t be coming back. Too many ghosts there; too many painful memories. The cards already stacked against him before he even steps foot in Bangladesh; an enormous bounty on his head, his face and name plastered everywhere and readily available to everyone from normal citizens to the police to the military. It will make navigating the streets extremely difficult. His side and build alone will attract considerable attention AND suspicion, and if he needs to talk to some of the locals, they won’t have a hard time recognizing his tattoos or pinpointing his accent. 

Seven years ago he’d been the one initially in the background; simply there to protect the person entrusted with getting the information needed before it was time for his part of the job to begin. And even if he is successful in both getting around Dhaka without being spotted AND getting the three safely out, the chances of surviving himself -even with backup- are slim. Once the shooting starts, the place will become a war zone; regular citizens, the cops, the military. It won’t take long for them to assemble, and no matter how quick and quiet the actual extraction is, getting himself the fuck out will become the biggest hurdle. The end is often the hardest push; when you’re exhausted and hurting and mere minutes...mere feet...from freedom. That’s when you tend to let your guard down; thinking you’re in the clear and you’re finally starting to catch your breath and the adrenaline is beginning to wane. He’d made that mistake in Dhaka the first time around; believing he’d taken out the last of his targets and that situation was no longer ‘hot’ or ‘hostile’. Until Farhad had shot him from behind and put one in his neck. It's the worst mistake he’s ever made on the job; turning his back and thinking he was in the free and clear. It was a huge fuck up; completely uncharacteristic on his part. And he’s determined not to screw up that badly again.

This isn’t the way he wanted to spend his night; telling her about Dhaka and his decision to go there. But despite his best efforts it’s been eating away at him; struggling to keep that smile on his face and his nerves and emotions under control for the sake of his wife and kids. There’s so much going on inside of his brain that’s hard to prioritize just what to feel; which one the emotional should be first and foremost. Pure and utter rage directed at Mahajan for ever getting OVi -and in turn, everyone around him- involved in such bullshit in the first place. Frustration at having to take so much time off to recuperate; unable to help get things handled sooner. Fear and worry not only for himself, but that he’ll have to once again be away from his family and rely on others to keep them safe. So much torturing an already battered and weary brain that he feels as if he’s struggling to hold on to his last threads of sanity.

“Uh-oh,” Esme frowns, as she raises her head from his chest and looks at him.

It’s a beautiful night; no humidity and a cool breeze blowing through, no sounds but the rippling of fountains in the ponds below and the chirping of crickets. After all the kids had settled, they’d retreated to the balcony off their bedroom; lying together on the two person lounge chair, both of his arms wrapped securely around her and her head resting against him. Neither of them speaking; her body completely relaxed against his and her eyes closed; his wide open and staring up at the night sky while his brain continues its torture. 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” she says. “Nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk’. I should know; I use it all the time. Nothing about us, right?”

“What?” Tyler gives a small, incredulous chuckle and then combs a hand through her hair; palm settling against the back of her head. “Of course not. We’re good. We’re more than good.”

“I saw your face; after you talked to Anil. I knew something was up right away. But I also knew you weren’t ready to say anything. That’s why you threw yourself into doing things with the kids and waiting on me hand and foot. You were totally stalling.”

He nods. 

“It must not be good news then. For you not to say anything right away.”

“It’s pretty bad, actually.”

“Okay…” she rolls over onto her stomach and rests her chin on his chest. “...just how bad are we talking? Are you talking normal bad, pretty bad, or pretty fucking bad?”

“Pretty fucking bad,” he says, as he pushes her bangs off her forehead and tucks hair behind her ears. “In all capital letters.”

“They need you back out there, don’t they.”

“Yeah. They do.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised. It was bound to happen. I’m actually more shocked it didn’t happen sooner. I guess I should just be happy that we got as much time as we did. I was only expecting a couple days and I got over a week. That’s pretty damn good actually; a lot better than the times you go away and you don’t come home for almost a month.”

“I said I’d stay. That I wouldn’t leave you and the kids here alone.”

“We’re not exactly alone. And while I would prefer you here and not out there getting shot at and God knows what else, at least it isn’t just the kids and I trying to fend for ourselves. Things aren’t going well out there, are they. They’re not doing so good on the list?”

“Anil says they’re down to two names. That’s a lot quicker than I thought things would go.”

“So why do they need you then? If they’ve handled everyone else on it so far, what makes the last two so difficult?”

“It actually has nothing to do with the list. I wish it did though.”

“Oh God,” Esme groans, and glides her knuckles along his jaw, beard rough against the skin. “I don’t like that look on your face. What’s happened? What’s going on?”

“They got to Neysa and Aarav. Mahajan’s people.”

Her eyes widen in panic. “They’re not…”

“No. They’re not dead. But if things keep going the way they are, they’ll wish they were.”

“You saw them? How? A video? Pictures?”

“Both. Pictures were taken three days ago. Video was this morning.”

“How do they look? How bad are they? How…?”

He keeps his emotions under control by continuously sliding his fingers through her hair; marvelling at the way moonlight causes it to shimmer and just how soft it is to the touch. “They’re pretty banged up. But they look more scared than anything.”

“I know I would be. That used to be my worst nightmare when I did what I did. That someone would catch on to me and grab me and take me somewhere to teach me a lesson. Did they make any demands? What do they want? What…?”

“There’s more to it.”

“It gets worse? How much worse could it possibly get?”

“They’ve got Nathan too. He’s pretty fucked up. Was putting up a good fight though, I’ll give him that.”

Esme scowls. “That doesn’t make any sense. He’s been gone for a week and a half and they’re just letting you guys know they have him? Doesn’t that seem a bit strange to you? That they’ve had him all this time yet they didn’t reach out? You’ve been in the game a hell of a long time. Think of all the things you’ve seen and heard. Don’t they usually reach out before this?”

“Usually,” Tyler admits. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking it’s weird. That all of a sudden he just shows up. Just as quick as he left. And how convenient is it that they have him? It’s been a week and a half and there hasn’t been a single peep from them all that time? How bad did he look?”

“Pretty beaten up.”

“Was he missing any body parts? Did he look like he could walk on his own? Did it look like they’ve been starving him?”

“He looked like Nathan. Just a fucked up version of him. Like he caught a beating but nothing too major. You think it’s faked?”

“It’s happened before. It’s how you got sucked into the whole McMann thing. Those pictures of his wife and his kids. Would it honestly surprise you if Mahajan sunk to that level? If Nathan IS the mole, is it too far of a reach to think he’s in on it and making it look as good as he can?”

“He did drop my name. First and last. Told them I’d be the one who’d come and get him.”

“Sounds like he’s trying to lure you there,” Esme concludes. “I don’t trust him, Tyler. Not after everything you’ve told me.”

“The files you got from the Marines didn’t show anything out of the ordinary.”

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t, though. Just means he wasn’t caught. You don’t trust him, do you? You can’t honestly tell me you believe him.”

“I saw it. The video. Seemed legit.”

“So did April McMann in her video. We need more proof. That it IS Nathan. Because we find out it IS him, we can just leave him there to rot.”

“Can’t leave Neysa and Aarav . Gotta get them out somehow.”

“You mean someone has to get them out,” she corrects. “Because I know you’re not talking about yourself.”

His fingers continue to move through her hair; pushing it away from the sides of her face and over her shoulders, palm sliding slowly along the back of her neck and down to the middle of her back.

“I know you’re not talking about yourself,” Esme says. “There’s no way you are. Because you are not ready for that kind of thing. Not in the slightest.”

“I’m almost at ninety percent.”

“Since fucking when? This morning you said it was seventy five. You just skipped ahead another fifteen just like that?”

Tyler sighs. “Baby…”

“No. Don’t you dare. Don’t you ‘baby’ me. You ARE talking about yourself. When it comes to getting them out. You weren’t talking in general. You actually meant you. As in you have to do it.”

He nods. 

“An extraction. They want you to do an extraction.”

“I’ve done hundreds of them. You know that.”

“You don’t have to do this one. Tell them no. Tell them you’re not doing it; that you’re not ready for that. Because you’re not. And you’re lying if you say you are.”

“I’m in a lot better shape right now than I was seven years ago for Ovi’s extraction,” Tyler argues.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Yeah, you had your issues back then. Most of them caused by booze and those stupid goddamn pain meds. But you were in damn good shape. A week and a half ago, someone drugged you. They were going to take you God knows where and do God knows what to you. Your back is messed up, your knee is fucked, and your shoulder is even worse. And you’re lying to yourself if you say those things are better now.”

“I’m almost back to where I am.” 

“No. You’re not. You’re nowhere near it. So you’re going to tell Anil you’re not doing this. That you’re going to stay here with your family. Where you're safe. Because you’re not safe out there. Even in the best shape you wouldn’t be. Tell them, Tyler. Tell them to get someone else.”

“There IS no one else,” he argues. “Who do I have...besides Nathan...that’s done an extraction? We were holding off on hiring more experienced guys until this was over, remember? That’s what we agreed on. That once things were done and settled, we’d bring more people on. And now Nathan’s caught up in this and I have no one else. There’s only me.”

“Then tell Nik to get one of her people. One of her experienced guys.”

“She doesn’t want to bring anyone else in. It's a big enough mess as it is.”

“Anil must have someone.”

“They took out seven of Anil’s best guys. And they do bodyguard work; that’s it. He went into business with us so we could supply him with mercs. So he doesn’t have to train his people to do this kind of shit. There is no one else.”

“There HAS to be. There can’t be just you. There has to be someone else.”

“Esme…” His voice is firm as he takes her face in his hands. “...there’s not.”

“And let me guess; you already told Anil you’d do it. You already made up your mind. I don’t really get a say in all of this, do I.”

“I can’t leave them there. I can’t. And I know you wouldn’t want me to. She’s your friend.”

“She is,” Esme agrees. “But you’re my husband and that makes you a little more important to me. And I know you’re not ready for this. I see the pain you’re in; I see it every second of every day. And it was bad enough before all of this. I do NOT want you doing this.”

“I have to.” He presses her lips against her forehead. “I have to. I can’t leave them there. I owe it to Saju to get them out. After what he did? Giving up his life to protect you? And Ovi? I have to do this.”

“Unreal. You are fucking unreal, you know that?” She shoves his hands away from her face, then angrily yanks the sides of the hoodie around her body as she sits up. “I love you, but sometimes I don’t fucking understand you. Why would you go back out there? Why wouldn’t you just stay here with me and the kids? Why are you so hell bent on going back onto the street and getting killed? Don’t fucking be who you were seven years ago. Because lots of people rely on you to be okay. Don’t be a selfish prick, Tyler!”

“You mean the selfish prick I was seven years ago when I didn’t tell you to fuck off in Dhaka? That selfish prick? The one that fucked you and still kept you around even though he should have sent you away? The one that dragged you into this life? Who helped bring kids into it? THAT selfish prick?”

“Don’t you even start with that shit! That is way off base and you know it. You didn’t force me to stick around. You didn’t hold a gun to my head so I’d marry you and give you children. So don’t even start with that.”

“I didn’t exactly stop any of those things from happening, did I.”

“Because there was nothing wrong with what we were doing! We both knew what we were getting into. I could have said no in Dhaka, but I didn’t. Because I wanted it to happen. I wanted you. In the same way I wanted to marry you and have a family with you. It is NOT the same thing.”

He snags her by the back of the sweater when she attempts to stand. “Where are you going? We’re not fucking finished. We’re talking about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? You made up your mind. You’re going. You said you’d go, then go. Pack your shit and leave. If Neysa and Aarav are more important to you than your own family…” 

“How can you fucking say that? Nothing is more important to me than you and my kids. Don’t stoop that low.”

She tries to wiggle out of the hoodie in order to free herself, then heaves a loud, angry sigh when he wraps an arm around her waist to keep her in place. “We should have talked about this. You should have come to me first. Not just go ahead and tell Anil you’d do this!”

“That’s what you’re pissed about? That I didn’t talk to you about it first? I don’t need your goddamn permission.

“It’s not about needing my permission. It’s about respecting me enough to let me know ahead of time you’re sending yourself out on a suicide mission. And talking about needing permission? Oh that’s rich, Tyler. Who’s the one that always needs it from you? I can’t even volunteer at the school or go to a moms social group or have friends because you don’t want me to. Yet you can’t talk to me about this?”

“When have I ever told you that you need my permission to do anything? It’s not about not wanting you to do things or talk to people, it’s about wanting to keep you safe.”

“Because you’re paranoid as fuck that there’s always someone out there wanting to kill me!”

“Well right now there are people who want to kill you. So can we not fight about this?”

“Leave me alone,” she orders, and tries to use her elbows to push him away. “Let go of me.”

“No.” Tyler tightens his hold on her, then sits up. “You’re not going anywhere. We’re going to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Esme insists. “You already decided. You’re going. So go.”

He curls his other her waist and then slides behind her; a leg on either side of her body, chest pressed against her back. “Don’t talk like that.” He presses a kiss to her temple, then her ear and her cheek. “You don’t want me going.”

“That’s EXACTLY it! I DON’T want you going. I want you to stay here. Would you stop?” She huffs dramatically and once more attempts to squirm away from him. “Leave me alone! Don’t be so kissy and touchy feely and shit. I’m mad at you!”

“You never stay mad at me for very long.”

“I can hold a grudge for a very long time, thank you very much. So don’t test your luck, buddy. I love you, but I could shake the ever loving shit out of you right now. I don’t understand why you would agree! I get that you feel some kind of responsibility because you brought Saju into things in Dhaka and look how that ended. But there are other people who can do extractions. Are you suddenly the only experienced merc on earth?”

“No. But I’m the best. And I’m the only one with experience at Anil’s disposal. And I know I said I’d stay here, but I also told you that I gave Anil mu word that I’d go back out if I was needed. And now I’m needed.”

“You’re needed here too,” Esme reminds him. “Or did you forget that?”

“The kids will be fine. They’ll be safe here. They’ve got Nik and Anil’s people watching over them. They’ve got all those nannies and they’ve got Uncle Kyle. Ovi’s even going to come and stay and give them another familiar face.”

“I notice you didn’t mention. Where am I going to be?”

He presses a kiss to her cheek. “With me.”

****

“Oh what a damn second!” She uses her elbow to push him back. “You’re deciding THAT now too? That I’m going with you and getting involved in this?”

“Well technically you are involved in this.”

“Fuck your ‘technically’. I’m not in the game anymore, remember? I’m just the supportive wife. And I’m not feeling very supportive towards you right now. Why the hell would I get mixed up in this?”

“I might need your help.”

“How could I possibly help you? Moral boosting blowjobs? I don’t think so.”

“I might need an intel person. If Anil can’t find out what I need…”

“Then get one from him. Or Nik. I assume they both have intel people.”

“I don’t want just any person. I want someone I can trust. And I trust you.”

She frowns. “You really need to broaden your circle of trust, you know that?”

“It’ll be two or three days. Tops.”

“Did you suddenly forget we have children?”

“There’s a nanny for each one. And two extra.”

“I’m their mother!” Esme argues. “Addie isn’t even three months old yet!”

“Three days tops,” Tyler insists. “They’ll be fine. There’s tons of people here to take care of them.”

“You’re insane. I’m pregnant, remember? And you want me out there on the street? Are you serious right now?”

“I just need you to do some intel. It’s not you people will recognize. It’s not your face that’s plastered everywhere. Not yet, anyway.”

“You are not helping your cause.”

“You’re smart. You’re tenacious. You’re strong. And I trust you. I need you.”

“I may be all those things, but I also have a human being inside of me. That YOU put there. Yet you want me out there? Tyler…”

“You’ll be fine. You can do this. You won’t be alone. I’ll always be watching your back. You know I will.”

“This is insane!”

“Baby, I need your help. And I know I said I’d never ask for it again…”

“You’re right. That’s exactly what you said.”

“But I trust you, With my life. More than I trust anyone else.”

Esme sighs heavily, body finally relaxing against his. “Before I agree to anything, I need to know where we’re going.”

“That’s where it gets a little complicated,” Tyler admits.

“Oh fuck. Of course it does. Why do I even ask? Where is it?”

“Dhaka.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind!” She uses both elbows to shove him onto his back, then springs to her feet. “Tell me you’re out of your fucking mind. That you’ve finally lost it. Because that is the only thing that can explain this. Tell you’ve actually snapped and gone insane and that’s why you’re doing this.”

“Esme…” he sits up and reaches for her, fingertips brushing against the backs of her thigh before she steps away; backing her into the balcony railing. “Esme…”

“You can’t be serious! Dhaka? You want ME to go to Dhaka? Of all goddamn places! You know the last seven years have been like. How screwed up I am because of that place and what happened there. Yet you want me to willingly go back. Are you fucking crazy?”

“I can’t help where they’re being held.”

“No. You can’t. But you can say no to going there. And not expect me to go there.”

“It has to be me. I’m the only one who can get them out. I can’t help where they’re being held.”

“I am not okay with going there. And I’m definitely not okay with you going there. Did you forget you have PTSD from that place? From what happened on the bridge? Because I can’t forget that. I can’t forget what happened and I certainly can’t forget what it did to you.”

Tyler slides forward on the lounge chair, perching on the edge as he lays his hands on her hips. “I need your help.”

“I can’t go there. I can’t. Because I will lose my goddamn mind if I do. Because all I’ll be able to think about is what happened seven years ago. All I’ll be able to think about is what happened in the woods and what happened at Gaspar’s and what happened on the bridge. I can't do that to myself. Why would YOU do it to me?”

“I’ll be with you. You’re not going alone. I’ll be there and I’ll have your back; nothing’s going to happen to you. I need your help, Esme. And I wish I didn’t. Or at the very least, I wish I trusted someone else. But I don’t. I trust YOU. And I want you to do this. I NEED you to do this.”

“I can’t!” she cries. “I can’t go there. I can’t, Tyler. It’s too hard. I’m still dealing with left over shit from seven years ago. But you want me just to walk back in there like it’s no big deal? You don’t realize how bad that place would fuck me up? Even worse than I already am?”

“I’ll be there with you. We’ll be together. I won’t let anything happen to you. You trust me?”

“You know I do. But this isn’t about whether I trust you or not. This about being able to mentally survive that place. What if I get there and totally lose it?”

“You won’t.”

“What if I end up back on that bridge? I WON’T get past that. I will not be able to cope with that.”

“I’ll be there with you,” Tyler stresses. “I’ll get you through it.”

“Oh that seems fitting, doesn’t it? You having to get me out of Dhaka and off the bridge a second time. I don’t want to go there. And I definitely don’t want you going there. You almost died there!”

“You don’t think I know that? I’m the one who got shot in the fucking neck.”

“I almost lost you to that place once. I don’t want the second time to be successful. And what if something happens to both of us?”

“Nothing like that is going to happen.”

“If something or someone takes both of us out, our kids are left with no one. No mom, no dad. Then what? What happens to them? They go into the fucking system? They end up separated and in foster homes?”

“Kyle will take them. We agreed on this; it’s all in writing, in a legal document. But nothing is going to happen. To either of us. It’s an easy in and out.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you said about Dhaka last time? You were pretty sure that was going to be easy, too. And it was fucked up and it was scary and I do not want to go through that again. If something happens to you….”

He tightly squeezes the backs of her thighs. “Nothing is going to happen to me. We’’ll go, you’ll get the info I need, I’ll get shit, we’ll get the fuck out. That’s it.”

“This is nuts.” She lifts the bottom of her t-shirt to her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks onto the gray fabric. “Going there is nuts.”

“Believe me, baby. It’s the last place I want to go. But that’s where they are.”

“You know they’re baiting you, right? That they’re baiting you into going there? Why else would they be in Dhaka? There’s no other reason. Other than to fuck with your head. They’re hoping it will mess with you and you’ll make a mistake and that way they can catch you off guard and kill you. You realize that, right?”

“I do. But I’m not going to make a mistake. No mistakes this time.”

“I don’t even understand how they ended up there. Why would Mahajan take the risk of sending his people into Asif’s territory? He’s not stupid; he knows that would kick up a whole lot of trouble. Asif might be dead, but there’s people keeping him very much alive.”

“He didn’t send his own people,” Tyler explains. “He’s using Asif’s people.”

“They’re working together?”

“Putting their issues for a common cause, I guess.”

“Oh my God.” She runs both hands down her face. “This is insane. This is pure fucking insanity. And we’re going to walk right into it?”

Tyler nods.

“How? You just said your name and your face are out there. That they’re coming knowledge. How…?”

“There’s always a way. All I need to do at first is get from the airport to the hotel. That’s it.”

“And then send me out into the street to get what you need.”

“I don’t even know if I WILL need you. But if Anil doesn’t come through…”

“So who is going to be watching my ass?”

“I will.”

“How? If you can’t get out on the street…”

“I will find a way. You have to trust me.”

“I DO trust you, Tyler. But this is messed up. Going back there? We’re asking for trouble.”

“Trouble is already here. It found Neysa and Aarav. And unless we do something about it on both ends, it’s going to find you and the kids and I will a put a bullet in my fucking brain if anything happens to you or them. Anil ends Mahajan, we take care of shit in Dhaka. End it all once and for good. No more fucking around.”

“It’s not that easy!” Esme argues. “It never is! So we go to Dhaka and I find out where they are and you go in and get them and get out. You’re forgetting about all the steps in between. All the people that will be there to stop you from getting them out.”

“They won’t even know I’m coming. Catch them by surprise.”

“And if there’s twenty of them? Thirty of them? Forty? You’re good. You’re damn good. But you’re not THAT good.”

“I won’t be going in alone,” he assures her. “I’ll have back up. Koen and Rata and a couple of Nik’s people. It’s not like I’m going in by myself. People inside with me, people outside. All the bases covered.”

“This isn’t going to be another incident like a week and a half ago, is it? Where you think you’re going to have back up and find out the hard way you don’t?”

“I completely trust these guys. You really think Koen will drop the ball? He’s probably more protective of me than you are. I’ll be okay. I know these guys know what they’re doing.”

“I wish I had as much confidence in them as you do.”

“You trusted Koen enough to get him to babysit me,” Tyler points out.

“It wasn’t babysitting. I wanted him to keep an eye on you. Because you’ve been struggling. In a lot of ways. And I didn’t want this whole thing breaking you. Breaking US.”

“Do you think it is? Breaking us?”

“Do you?”

“Honestly? The ‘us’ that existed even a couple of years ago? That ‘us’ wouldn’t have survived this. One of us would have walked away by now. Probably you.”

“Would have you let me? Walk away?”

“I would have fought like hell to get you to stay. I learned my lesson the first time. And I fucking hate myself that I was that weak and that much of a fucking coward back then. But now? I’d stop at nothing to get you back now. So yeah; two years ago I would have fought. But probably not as hard I am willing to fight now.”

“Is it weird that I actually this crap has made us stronger? I felt it when you first got here. That night we were lying in bed and you were holding me and we were talking and there was something so different between us. Something suddenly seemed so amazing and so right. More than it ever has before. It was like overnight we changed. Like we became what we’ve been fighting to be for seven years. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” his hands tighten on her hips and he pulls her into him, allowing her to stand between his splayed thighs. “Makes sense.”

She pushes both hands through his hair, fingers locking together at the nape of his neck. “You have to promise me something, Tyler.”

“Anything.”

“If something happens to me, in Dhaka…”

“We’re not having this conversation,” he interjects. “We’re not. We’re not talking about this. This is the last thing I want to talk about.”

“If something happens to me, you have to promise me that you’ll hold it together for the kids. OUR kids. Because they’ll need you more than ever.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you. Why…?”

“You can’t go back to drinking, you can’t go back to the meds. No matter how bad it seems or how horrible the grief is. You can’t go back to those things. Because you will lose the kids. You will lose the last tie to me and you will not survive that.”

“I won’t survive if something happens to you. You know I won’t. And I don’t give a shit if that makes me sound weak or pathetic. It’s the fucking truth.”

“And then our kids would be left without mom or dad. You’d survive. For them. And you have to promise me you will. That if something happens to me…”

“Stop it,” he snarls. “Just fucking stop it!”

“Promise me you won’t let the kids down. That you won’t fall back into bad habits. That you’ll hold it together for them. You’re all they would have left. And I need you to be there for them. Promise me, Tyler. Promise me.”

“I promise you. I’ll keep it together. For them.”

Giving a small, sad smile, she presses a slow, soft kiss to his lips. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I always WILL love you. You need to remember that, okay?”

“I will,” his voice cracks with me. “And I love you. So much. And we’re going to get out of this. Both of us. I promise.”

“I don’t know if that’s a promise you can keep.”

“I’ll get us out of there,” he vows. “No matter what it takes. I’ll get us out of Dhaka.”


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: light smut

They lay in a mess of rumbled and twisted sheets and naked limbs; bodies sated and spent and covered in thin sheens of sweat that glisten in the moonlight. His chest against her back and his arm stretched across her pillow; her head resting on his bicep and one his thick, muscular legs draped over hers. His eyes are closed, chin perched upon the top of her head; relaxed by the familiar smell that clings to her hair and skin and the warmth that radiates from her smooth, supple body. Enjoying the soft, almost tickling sensation of two of her fingertips moving against his palm; smoothing over the calluses and tracing slow circles and random patterns. It’s the simplest things that he often enjoys the most; the way their bodies -despite the substantial difference in both weight and height- recognize and mould to one another. Those soft and tender touches that seem so pure and innocent yet still manage to reach your very core. The feel of her in his arms and her body pressed tightly against him; her skin silky and warm and smelling so damn good. He had never taken the time to appreciate those things before, nor had he ever been with anyone that really allowed him to. The ex wife had ever been into the whole afterglow; intimacy purely sexual in her mind and pillow talk considered useless and boring. And he certainly never craved the quiet and loving aftermath with Nik or any of the women he’d hook up with while on the travelling and travelling from place to place. They were nothing but conquests; a chance to get his rocks off and rid himself of any lingering adrenaline or the last bits of frustration and anger. 

Seven years ago everything changed. What should have been nothing BUT sex and two broken people using one another -and their bodies- as a coping mechanism for everything wrong in their lives, had quickly turned into something so much more. It had become apparent on the second night that he was in way over his head. When she’d fallen asleep on his arm -and turned his hand completely numb in the process- and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her hip. She’d looked so peaceful...so fucking beautiful...that instead of trying to slip away, he’d just rolled over onto his side and rapped his arm around her; burying his face in her hair and finding himself soothed by her scent and the softness of her skin and the feel of her heart beating against him. And while it should have terrified him -feeling things that strongly and that quickly- it hadn’t been enough to push him away or send him running.

“Tyler?”

He nuzzles the top of her head with his nose, then drops a kiss on it. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Why would I be? We fought, we made up. In the best possible way. All is right in the world. For now, anyway.”

“You haven’t said much.”

“I thought I talked a lot while we were...you know…”

“As much of a turn on as it is and how amazing sounds in your voice, dirty talk does not count as REAL talk.”

“Says who?”

“It’s in the rule book.”

“I already told you; I don’t like your rules. Fuck your rules.”

“No wonder you got sent to detention so much when you were a kid. An attitude like THAT,” she teases.

“You know what would be really hot?”

“I’m almost scared to find out. I know how warped your mind can be.”

“You remember those glasses you wore in Ireland? To go with your reporter cover?”

“Those were fake.”

“I don’t give a shit. You should totally get another pair. And put your hair back; one of this really tight, formal looking buns. And wear a short skirt and heels and a low cut blouse.”

Esme snorts. “What the hell kind of teachers did you have growing up?”

“Not hot ones, that’s for sure. And you’re the one who told me that if you ever went back to school, it was to become a teacher. YOU put that in my head. My brain and my hormones just took it from there.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. You get weirder as you get older, I swear.”

“Maybe.” He moves his hand from her hip to her stomach, pulling her even tighter against him. “But you love me.”

“I do,” she confirms. “Although some days, I really want to throat punch you.”

“No throat punching. And you wonder where your daughter gets that shit from.”

“Because it’s definitely not from her father who technically beats the shit out of people for a living. And she definitely doesn’t have your temper.”

“Nice of you to finally take the blame for her.”

“You’re a dick!” she declares, and directs an elbow to his stomach. And he chuckles into her hair and removes the arm from her pillow and wraps it around her neck; palm resting above her left breast. “You’re lying on your bad shoulder,” she points out.

“It’s fine.”

“It won’t be in about ten minutes when it seizes up and you can’t move it at all.”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’m the one giving you a hard time, remember?” He grins as he presses his groin against her ass.

“I seriously wonder why the hell I’ve put up with you for so long,” she grumbles, then plants her elbow into his chest and shows him onto his back. “You're stubborn and you're chaotic and you’re absolutely fucking exhausting.”

“What are you bitching about? Those are all my best qualities.”

“I can think of better ones. Ones that don’t make me want to strangle you. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t actually enjoy your stubborn moments and your chaotic tendencies and the way you exhaust me.” 

She rolls over onto her stomach and presses a kiss to his lips. Both of his arms wrapping around her as she nestles her face into his right trap; tip of her nose against his neck and her breath warm against his skin. And for several minutes neither of them speak; their eyes closed and one of her hands repeatedly brushing through his hair and the fingers of the other lightly drifting back and forth along his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.”

Tyler’s eyes snap open. “What?”

“When we were fighting. I called you crazy. Or suggested you were. I said that you’d finally snapped and went totally nuts. And I should NOT have said that. IT was way off base.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Are you being serious right now?”

She raises her head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “You have a legit mental illness. You have three of them, actually. And I totally preyed on it and I’m a shitty person for doing it. I never should have said what I did.”

“Baby, you’re kidding, right? You’re not really serious about this, are you?”

“I am.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “I never should have said it. I’m sorry. I know you’re not crazy. I know you can’t help being the way you are. That your brain just doesn’t it own thing and you’re trying to get it under control and you’re constantly fighting and trying to get better and…”

“Okay, you know what? Now you’re the one being crazy. You think it bothered me? That I haven’t heard worse? Or thought worse about myself? I call you crazy all the time when you say something I think sounds nuts. It’s a figure of speech; doesn’t mean I actually think you’re crazy.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

“You are really fucking hormonal.” He removes one of his arms from around her and uses gentle fingertips to brush the wayward tears from her cheeks and under her eyes. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s the worst it’s ever been,” Esme laments. “I mean, I always get hormonal and irrational but never this bad or this soon. Oh God...what if it’s triplets?”

“Jesus fuck. Don’t say that.”

“You’re the one that always goes on and on about your super sperm. Maybe all this time you’ve been right; maybe it’s actually insanely super. And it would explain it, right? Why it’s this bad and why it’s happening so early. More than or two would make me extra hormonal and extra irrational and…”

“When we get back home, we’ll call the doctor and we’ll get you and little bean checked out. I’m no professional, but I’m pretty sure there’s not three in there. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good.”

“Twins, maybe. I mean, we have a history. It’s happened to other people; two sets of twins.”

“How about you stop wishing multiples on me and just pretend we know for sure it IS just one.”

“What if it is more than one? What if it is twins again? You know how hard it was the first time carrying two made from someone the size of you. I don’t know if I can handle that again. Because things went wrong so quickly and Tanner was so sick and we didn’t think he’d even make it.”

“But he did. He DID make it. And now look at him; he’s the healthiest out of them all.”

“And the smallest.”

“Well I think Addie has that title and probably always will. And who cares if they’re small? You’re small. They take after their momma.”

“I don’t know; Tanner is ALL you.”

“How you figure?”

“He is so much like you. He has all these feelings and emotions inside of him and he’s so sensitive. But he isn’t afraid to just let it all out; he’s just totally out there with it. He’s just so open and so honest and just so innocent about it.”

“He’s also only five,” Tyler points out.

“You keep everything inside. And I know how deeply and powerfully you feel. How big of a heart you have. How sensitive you can be. You just bury it deep down for the most part. You always act so embarrassed when you catch yourself with the ‘feel’ or when you think you’re showing too much emotion.”

“That’s what happens when you get that side beaten out of you for years, I guess.”

“Tanner is the kid you could have been had none of that ever happened to you.”

“Maybe. Who knows,” Tyler shrugs. “If none of that happened...losing my mom...having to put up with my dad...there’s a chance we wouldn’t have happened either. I’m pretty sure going through what I did with the old man is what pushed me towards the military in the first place. And if I’d never gotten into the military, I probably would have never gotten into the job, either. If it wasn’t for the job, we never would have met and none of those kids would exist. And they’re awesome fucking kids.”

Esme smiles. “They are. They’re incredible and they’re beautiful and they’re a mix of everything that’s perfect and right inside me and you. We did good, didn’t we.”

“We did better than good. We did amazing.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Not bad for two people that were so messed up seven years ago.”

“Remember what Gaspar said to you? About how two broken people can’t fix one another? That they just end up making things worse?

Tyler nods. 

“I think we’ve pretty much proved him wrong. We didn’t destroy each other like he said he would. And we definitely didn’t make things worse. I know we’re not perfect; not by a long shot. And we’ve gone through some pretty shitty times; including times we didn’t think we’d make it. But we’ve put the work in. We work at being better; for ourselves AND each other. Shows you how completely full of shit he was.”

“I could have told you that before he even opened his mouth.”

“I still don’t get how the hell you two were even friends. He exemplified the worst of the worst when it comes to mercs. Even back then...with all your issues...you were so far from being like him.”

“In my defence, whenever I WAS around him, I was pretty drunk. So I wasn’t exactly the best judge of character.”

“I was completely sober and I was a great judge of character,” Esme proudly declares. 

“You think so, do you?”

“I let you in my pants, didn’t I?”

He smirks. “A lot of people who know me would probably argue that showed you failed HUGE at judging my character.”

“Well they’d be wrong. Maybe none of them have ever seen what I have. Maybe they don’t take the time to look for it. There was something different about you; I could see it, in your eyes. Yeah, you were tough and hardened and totally badass, but I still saw it; whenever you looked at me. I even heard it in your voice. When we used to have those talks in the middle of the night after we...you know…”

“Fucked each other senseless?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. Even the first night I saw it. You were looking at me when I was telling you about Mark and his bullshit and you reached up and you pushed my hair out of my eyes and behind my ears and you were so gentle about it. It was so simple, yet it took my breath away. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. It was the last thing I ever expected from you; being like that.”

“Probably because an hour before, I had my hand around your throat.”

“Well that didn’t hurt, but it was more than that. I go into a job where I have to pretend to be married to a mercenary. And not just any mercenary, but one who was practically a legend; I’d heard all the stories and all the rumours and you ended up being completely different than I thought you would. And you go from being hard core and aggressive to having this quiet, soft, sweet side to you. That is the last thing I expected. And then to hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes; this vulnerability and this brokenness. It was sad but it was beautiful all at the same time.”

Tyler frowns. “Have you been drinking?”

“Don’t be such an ass! I’m trying to be sweet and loving with you, goddamn it! Don’t ruin it!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, and loops her hair behind one ear, then the other. “You’re right; I do get embarrassed by this stuff.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re strangers. It’s not like we haven’t spent seven years sharing cooties.”

“Oh I think we’ve been sharing A LOT more than that.”

“Of all the people you shouldn’t be embarrassed around, I’m at the top of the list. So…” she climbs on top of him places a knee on either side of his torso, then leans down to peck his lips. “...stop your bullshit. You’re exhausting me.”

Reaching up, he pushes her his hands through her hair; fingers combing through the dark, silky tresses and pushing them over her shoulders. “If it was that easy of a fix…” he skims his palms over her shoulders and down her arms. “...I would have fixed it a long time ago.”

“Well you ARE getting better at it,” she admits. “Maybe on our fiftieth anniversary you’ll be fully over it and surprise me!”

“Bold of you to assume I’m still going to be alive.”

“We got married when you were thirty five. You’ll only be eighty five then.”

“Exactly. Eighty five. You really think I’m going to make it that far?”

“I do. For the simple fact I won’t let you die.”

“Funny how you think you have control over it.”

“I might not have control over it, but I am optimistic that you’ll make it that long. Even longer, actually. If you can survive everything you have in the past forty two years…”

“Forty one. I haven’t reached forty two years. What the fuck?”

“Your birthday is only three months away,” Esme reminds him.

“Okay, so I’m forty one and three quarters.”

She sighs in exasperation. “Fine. If you can survive everything you’ve gone through in the last forty one and three quarter years, there is no way you’re NOT dying an old man, warm in his bed. If anyone deserves that, it’s you. If you can get shot in the neck and still get off that bridge alive? Your chances of making it to eighty five are very good.”

“You’re forgetting I got very fucking lucky; someone was on that bridge that actually give a shit about me and wanted me to live.”

“I only played a small part,” she says, and her fingers move to the side of his neck; gliding over the tattoo that graces his skin and the scar left behind from Farhad’s bullet. 

“A small part? You stuck your fingers in my neck to stop me from bleeding out. That’s more than just a small part.”

“We’re not going to talk about that, okay? That part of it.” Her voice trembles with emotion. “I don’t want to talk about that part.”

“You don’t have to, baby. Come here…” he lays a hand on the back of her head, drawing her down onto his chest. “...it’s okay…” he places his lips against her temple, the fingers of one hand gently massaging her scalp, the other drifting up and down her spine. “...you don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry I brought it up. I know better than that.”

“It’s not your fault I can’t get over it. That my brain is messed up because of it.”

“Actually, it kind of IS my fault. Considering…”

“It isn’t your fault,” Esme insists, and wraps both arms around his neck. “I’ve never blamed you. It’s just happened. IT was a horrible fucking mess and that stupid fucking Farhad. You should have killed him that night in the alley. You should have just done it. I wouldn’t have held it against you if you did.”

“Okay, first of all? He was a kid.”

“A kid that nearly killed you. So I’m sorry if I have no sympathy for him. He was a little bastard and you should have just done away with him. And if he’s still out there, I almost hope we run into him in Dhaka. Because I'll kill him if you won’t.”

“Alright, you need to settle down. Don’t get so worked up over this shit. Let’s NOT talk about this at all. For the next however many days, let’s not mention that place at all. Deal?”

“Deal. But I swear to God if I see him…”

“What did we just agree on?”

“Sorry,” she mutters against the hollow of his throat. “I get worked up.”

He grins. “Just a little.”

“I’m just scared. About going back there. That’s the last place I ever thought I’d go back to.”

“Trust me; I’m not too excited about it either.”

“You know what would be funny though?” She pulls back to look at him. “If we ended up at the same hotel. In the same room. Maybe we should go there and ask for that room. For old time’s sake.”

“How about no?”

“It wasn’t THAT bad. You had a good time. A VERY good time.”

“I am pretty sure that had nothing to do with the actual hotel or the actual room and everything to do with who I was there with.”

“Maybe they fixed the toilet sometime in the last seven years!”

  
He chuckles. “Maybe.”

“And maybe someone over five foot five can actually take a proper shower. That was the weirdest thing; you couldn’t take a bath comfortably because you’re too tall and your legs are too long, but you had to sit in the tub to take a shower.”

“I’ll let you have this moment. But only because I’ve spent years making fun of your height. Or lack of it.”

“You were such a good sport about it, though. You let me wash your hair.”

“Honestly? That was the first time I ever had someone do it.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

“You were totally having the feels for me weren’t you. And I’m not talking about the feels below the waist; those were more than obvious. I’m talking about legit feels. You were having legit feels for me.”

“I was,” Tyler admits. “And it was fucking terrifying.”

“Not terrifying enough to walk away though. Or to back away, I should say.”

“There was no way in hell I was backing away. I spent years feeling dead inside...years where I just wanted to die...and all of sudden I’m feeling more than that? Something BETTER than that? No way in hell was I backing away.”

“I knew it,” she grins. “I knew you had the warm and fuzzies for me.”

“Holy shit,” he laughs. “So THAT’S where Tanner got in from.”

“He asked me how it feels when you like someone. How it felt when I met you. So told him that you made my heart feel warm and fuzzy and he just took it from there. Did you ask you the same thing?”

“He asked if I got the warm and fuzzies when I met you.”

“Did you?” She scrapes the knuckles on both hands against his beard. “Did you get the warm and fuzzies?”

“From the waist down? Yes. I totally got the warm and fuzzies for you.”

“Please! You did NOT get a hard on the second you saw me on your front porch.”

“The hell I didn’t. There was a hot girl at my place, all tatted and pierced up and looking totally unlike anyone that ever graced my door stop. Damn right I got one.”

“I would have noticed if you were pitching a tent.”

“I was wearing baggy shorts.”

“Baby, you are phenomenally blessed in that area. There’s no shorts baggy enough to hide when you’re excited. So nice try. I appreciate you attempting to build up my ego, but you did NOT get a hard on when you first saw me.”

“Okay, so maybe not a full one, but there were some feelings down there. Especially when I saw you had a tongue ring.”

“Please tell me that’s NOT what you told Tanner when he asked about the warm and fuzzies.”

“I did not tell our five old son that his mom made me horny when I first met her, no. I did tell him that I liked how you smiled at me. That you had a beautiful smile and it made me feel kind of warm and fuzzy.”

“I knew it!” You’ve been denying it for seven years. You had a thing for me right off the hop.”

“I so did. Lust at first sight.”

“You had a weird way of showing it. You weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy to me when we first got to Dhaka.”

“That’s ‘cause you pissed me off. Really pissed me off.”

“I wasn’t listening to your stupid rules. I’m a strong, independent woman. I do what I want.”

“Yeah, and if someone had grabbed you in the market? Who do you think would have had to bust his ass to rescue yours? I should have known right away you were trouble. As soon as you didn’t listen to me the first time. Now I’m seven years in and you still don’t listen to a thing I say.”

“It’s not that I don’t listen to you. Just sometimes I think it’s bullshit and I ignore it.”

He smirks. “I knew you were trouble. The second you downed those two drinks in my kitchen.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s probably what turned you on even more.”

“I’m not going to admit or deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I have my own lie detector test. In the same way you do.”

“Yeah?” He rubs his palms up and down her thighs. “How does it work?”

“I can give you a tutorial,” she offers.

“I bet you can.”

“It starts very simple…” She pecks his lips, followed by the corner of his mouth and then along the side of his jaw. “...see, I know all of your weak spots. All those little places that drive you crazy. For example, this…” she drags the tip of her tongue along the outer edge of his ear. “...always gets things going. I know it drives you insane. In a good way. Just like I know doing this…” she bites down lightly on the lobe and then nibbles her away down the side of his neck. “...mixed with this…” she scrapes her nails down his chest, applying pressure against one nipple. “...really gets you going.”

“You’re evil, you know that? Really fucking evil.”

“You’re not the only one who’s good at teasing. Or did you forget that?”

“Oh I didn’t forget. I know how good you are at it. Seven years, remember?”

His hands push their way into her hair; dark tresses slipping through his fingers as she slides her body down his. Her mouth placing hot, moist kisses along his collarbone and over each peck; a low growl and then a hiss tumbling from his mouth when she first bathes each nipple with her tongue and then scrapes her teeth against them. Breath coming in ragged, uncontrolled pants as she licks, sucks, and kisses her way across the one side of his ribs, then the other; fingernails gouging the skin as her mouth moves even lower. Tracing the ridges of well defined abs and the cut of his hips, the wiry hair that surrounds his navel and travels lower surprisingly soft against her lips, tickling her tongue as she follows its downward path.

She’s always been amazing at this; from the slow build up and the torture that causes his body to lock up and his breath to quicken, the actual act itself. As so willing and eager; offering or taking it upon herself to just do it instead of having to be asked. A far cry from any of the previous relationships he’d been in.

“Jesus...fuck…” he manages through gritted teeth when she sucks and nibbles at his inner thigh and her fingertips drift along the side of his cock. He hates being on the receiving end of this kind of torture; the only time he possesses little to no patience. Yet it’s a game to her. Payback, in a way. For all the times he’s had the nerve to do it to her; the smart grin that takes over his face while he ignores the begging and pleading and allows his mouth and his hands to wander her entire body while purposefully ignoring where she so desperately wants them.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes open at the sound of her voice; unaware that he’d even closed them, or that his body had been drawn so tight it’s almost painful. And when he looks down, her mouth is hovering at the juncture between hip and thigh; a devilish curve to her lips and a mischievous glitter in her eyes.

“Are you desperate Tyler?” Her eyes never leave his; her mouth moist and warm as it presses soft yet excruciating kisses along the top of his thigh. “...you seem pretty desperate. I know how hard it is for you; giving up control like this.”

“I’m not giving up shit. Just…” he bites down on his bottom lip and his eyes close once more as she sucks and nibbles her way across his pubic bone; one of her nails lightly scraping along the underside of his cock. Already painfully hard; tip leaking pre cum. “...you’re bad.”

“You like it,” she says, as he palms cradles his erection. Pads of her fingers replacing the nails and repeatedly brushing against the sides; methodically tracing and exploring every vein, ridge, and indent. “...if you didn’t it, you wouldn’t be letting me do this…” her hand tightens around his rock hard length,

One hand grabs the sheets beneath him while the other shoves its way into her hair.

“Entirely or…?”

“No. Not fucking entirely. Just…” His hips arch off the bed when she drags the tip of her tongue along the top of his cock. Starting at the tip and ending at the base; aggressively suckling and nibbling while her hand tightens around him. The pressure of her thumb firm as it repeatedly passes over the head. “...if you’re just going fucking play with me like this, just stop.”

“This is karma. For all the times you’ve made ME wait. All those times you got off making me beg and plead for it. And let’s be realistic…” her one hand continues to slowly and gently manipulate his cock while the other moves from his hip to his ball; first cradling and then rhythmically squeezing. “...if you really wanted me to stop, you’d make me. You have more than a hundred pounds on me. And more than a foot in height. You’re more than capable of getting your control back.”

“Don’t tempt me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You would never hurt me. At least not intentionally.” 

Her mouth moves to his other thigh; lips sucking and teeth biting down hard enough to mark the flesh. And when he feels her warm breath against him as her mouth lingers over the top of his cock, he sees that pleased glint in her eyes and that and that victorious grin on her face and he finally snaps. Roughly snatching her by the hair; twisting it around his fist as he yanks her up towards him. His lips aggressive and needy against hers’ tongue hungrily and savagely pushing through her teeth as he flips her over onto her back.

“You must be feeling pretty generous tonight,” Esme chides. “Giving up THAT?”

“Maybe I’d rather just fuck you.”

“You ARE getting back to normal,” she grins, and raises her head in order to lick a path that starts in the middle of his collarbone and travels over his throat, along the underside of his chin, and up onto his lips. Capturing the bottom one between her teeth. “Your stamina is almost where it was before.”

“Almost? This will be the third time tonight.”

“You make that sound like a complaint. If you can’t cope with my wants and my needs…”

“I’ve been coping with them for almost seven years. I think I’ll be okay.”

He drops his head down to kiss her; long and deep and just as hungry and desperate as before. Shivering when her nails scrape down his ribs and over his hips. And he feels her body tense and then shudder when he hastily pushes into her, giving her body a chance to adjust to the sudden intrusion before pulling out and sinking back in even harder and deeper than before. It’s a break from their usual; slow and even thrusts and the exchange of soft, short kisses followed by longer and more needy ones. Her hands attentively exploring the muscles in his shoulders and back; fingers light and feathery when they travel over every bulge, ripple, and intent that exist in his arms.

“You’re so beautiful…” he breathes, a hand moving to the side of her face, cupping it gently; thumb brushing against the skin under her eye. “...you’re so beautiful and I love you so much.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she pleads. “Don’t say things like that while you have that look in your eyes. I know what you’re thinking. And that’s not going to happen; it’s never going to happen.”

He attempts a confident, reassuring smile and then kisses her. Long and soft and sweet at first, then much more intense. Feeling her legs wrap around his waist and her ankles lock together at the small of his back. And he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against her as he continues to move inside of her. Taking in every little whimper, moan and sigh and the press of her feet against his tailbone and the feel of her nails scraping his shoulders and back.

Attempting to commit all of it to memory. Just in case.

*****

He wakes to Addie’s shrill and incessant crying coming from the nursery across the hall. Eyes immediately snapping open and his body initially tensing. It’s a cry unlike anything he’s ever heard from her before. She’s always been a fairly quiet and agreeable baby; even in the midst of a ‘meltdown’ -when food isn’t coming as quick as she thinks it should- she never sounds like THAT. It’s louder and higher than normal; no longer the cry that almost resembles a kitten that’s been separated too soon from its mother. He tries not to feel panicked; it could be a number of things. A stomach ache, a wet diaper that she’s been in for far too long and has become unbearable, or she’s somehow managed to kick and squirm her way out of her tight swaddling. 

Running his hands over his weary face, he sits up; left hand reaching for his right shoulder and his fingers pressing deep and massaging firmly in a vain attempt to rid himself of both pain and stiffness. Esme doesn’t even budge beside him; blankets pulled up to her ears and her hair falling over her face, oblivious to both the commotion across the hall and his movements beside her.

He groans as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands; a hand on the small of his back and a grimace on his face as he hobbles towards the pair of sweats that had long been discarded near the balcony door. Climbing into them and pulling them over his hips and his ass as he heads for the door.

The first thing he notices is how quiet it is in the upstairs hallway. Not even the slightest bit of sound -aside from what Addie is making - trickling out from all the other rooms. Normally he hears something; music or talking coming from one of the kids’ tablets after they’d fallen asleep watching them, the dogs rustling around or snoring from their usual resting place on top of Millie’s bed, or one of the nannies moving inside their room as they prepare to tend to the baby. 

The second is the sudden change in temperature when he gets to the nursery; the air coming from under the door drastically cooler than out in the hallway. And it makes him scowl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end; briefly pausing -waiting and listening- with his fingers curled around the door handle. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to hear, but his gut...his instincts...tell him that something isn’t quite right. Yet his brain is able to pin down just what it could be.

Addie has quieted down by the time he steps into the room; her crying now soft whimpers and gasps for air and a tiny fist shoved in her mouth. And as he makes his way towards the crib, his eyes do a thorough search of the room; it’s a large, open space and the closet door is close and there’s no possible place for anyone to hide. The window is wide open; the strong breeze violently rustling and flapping the curtains and filling the room with shockingly crisp air.

“It’s alright now,” he speaks calmly to Addie as he steps beside the crib. She’s managed to get herself out of her swaddling and her body is cold to the touch; likely woken up by the chill in the air and the sound of the curtains being tossed and shaken. “It’s okay…” he places a kiss to the side of her head as he scoops her up, using one hand to press her against his chest while the other snags the receiving blanket from the crib and drapes it over her. “It’s alright, little peanut. Daddy’s got you.”

She’s comforted by the warmth of his body and the sound of his voice, and he keeps her tightly and protectively against him as he moves to the window; sliding it down and securely the latch. Pausing before stepping away; pulling back the curtains and peering out into the dark.

“What’s going on?” Esme asks, lifting her head from her pillow when he returns. “Everything okay?”

“Did you leave the window in the nursery open?”

She pushes her hair out of her eyes and looks at him quizzically. “What?”

“The window. In the nursery. Did you leave it open when you put Addie to bed?”

“No. It was already closed. I just left it that way. Why?”

“It was wide open.” He slides into bed; leaning back against the headboard, baby finally calm against him. “Are you sure it was closed?”

“I would have noticed if the window was open; it’s been crazy windy all evening.” She reaches up to run a hand over Addie’s hair, then down her arm. “Oh my god, she’s freezing! What the hell?”

“She woke up because she was cold. The window was wide open. It was fucking freezing in there.”

“Here, ” Esme sits up and reaches for the extra blanket spread across the end of the bed, draping over the front of his body and tucking it tightly around Addie. “Daddy’s got you,” she presses a kiss to her daughter’s temple. “You’re okay now, bubby. You’ll warm up quickly. Daddy’s like a furnace. Except for his feet; those are always cold.” She places a hand on Addie’s back and rests her head against Tyler’s shoulder. “Maybe one of the nannies opened it. The window. Maybe they went in to check on her and they thought it felt hot in there so they opened it. Then forgot to go back in and close it.”

“Maybe. That’s pretty fucking stupid though, isn’t it?”

“People make mistakes, Tyler. She’ll be okay. She just needs to warm up. Maybe she’ll take something to eat; that might make her feel better.” She peels the blanket back and gently removes Addie from his arms, then stretches out on her side; baby on the mattress facing her, eagerly latching onto the breast when it's offered.

“Always hungry,” Esme muses, and combs her fingers through Addie’s hair. “Maybe you do have some of your daddy in you, after all. He’s always eating. You’ll be okay, little bubby. You’ll warm up and you’ll have a full tummy and then you’ll feel better. Good thing you woke daddy, huh? He hasn’t been a sound sleeper in a long time.”

Tyler stretches out on his side as well, facing the two of them. And he runs a hand over his wife’s hair and then his daughter’s before sliding closer to them; effectively shielding Addie’s tiny body with his own. His arm arm resting lightly on top of her as he places a protective hand on the small of Esme’s back.

He won’t be sleeping any time soon.


	73. Chapter 73

It’s the last of these moments. At least for a couple of days. Or a week. Perhaps even permanently. 

The latter is something that weighs heavy on both his heart and his mind. All the cards and the odds stacked against him; confident of a safe and successful extraction but not his own survival. Things have never been riskier. A twenty five million dollar price tag on his head and his name and picture plastered all over Dhaka; in the possession of the police, military, and regular citizens. He’s relegated himself to the fact that he most likely isn’t coming back; too many people wanting cash in on the reward, others motivated by revenge. Years of holding onto bitterness, anger, and embarrassment; all powerful driving forces behind avenging Amir Asif. It’s the first time he’s ever been this certain going into a job that he won’t make it back out. Even in Dhaka AFTER the sniper had gotten a hold of him and put one in his back, there’d still been a glimmer of hope. That moment after gunning down his last two targets and began hobbling his way to freedom, he’d seen the light at the end of that very long, exhausting, and painful tunnel. 

But now, knowing the obstacles he’ll face just on the street and the enormous response his presence in Dhaka will garner, there isn’t even the slightest bit of optimism to be found. He feels empty and hopeless; a darkness that threatens to consume him. Unable to shake the thought that this could very likely be his final hours spent with his children; the last time he’ll experience their hugs and see their smiles and hear their voices. And guilt is there too; painful regret that he’d willingly brought kids into a life like this -a MESS like this- in the first place. If he doesn’t survive, they’ll be the ones to suffer. There will be a baby he’ll never get to meet. A pregnant wife who will grief deeply and struggle immensely to keep their family from falling apart.

He tries not to think of all of that; wishing that the warmth and the sunshine and the sound of Tanner and TJ’s giggles -as they play in the backyard with a newly arrived Ovi- was enough to lift at some of the stress and strain that sits heavily upon his shoulders. Plastering a fake smile on his face whenever the twins glance in his direction or when they randomly rush over for no other reason than to just give -and receive- a hug. And he watches them from where he sits on the back deck; the way they shriek and erupt into peels of laughter when Ovi tosses them both into the towel and then makes a running leap in after them. Despite everything going on around them -the noticeable stress and tension that hangs heavily in the air, the presence of armed guards, the homesickness-the kids never let it get them down. So innocent and pure; loving life and everyone in it. And it makes him realize that maybe bringing them into this kind of existence hasn’t been a complete disaster after all. That he’s somehow managed to not fuck them up too badly despite what they’ve been subjected to.

“Looks like you have your hands full,” Nik comments as she approaches. 

They haven’t spoken -other than brief greetings or a handful of words- since she’d both thrown Ovi under the bus and Esme had confronted her with the proof needed to clear the kid entirely. Things have been tense and uncomfortable for all parties involved; Nik still vehemently defending her boyfriend (or whatever the hell he is) and Esme holding onto a lot of anger and bitterness over Nik spending years trying to sabotage her marriage and break up their family.

Tyler nods in agreement, then drops a kiss on the top of Declan’s sweaty head and tightens his arm around the toddler. Sound sleep with his stomach pressed against Tyler’s chest, both tiny arms circling his neck, and his cheek pressed against his shoulder. Addie naps along with her brother; stretched out along her father’s arm with her resting in the crook of his elbow. While she’d quickly rebounded from the incident in the wee hours of the morning, he’s still struggling; keeping her in bed with them until she woke up when the sun began poking over the horizon. Since then he’d hasn’t let her out of his sight; refusing any and all offers of help from the nannies. He can’t get it out of his mind; the wide open window, the denial from every staff member that he’d angrily confronted, the possibility that someone had gained access to only the house, but her room and gotten THAT close to her.

“I can’t take one of them if you want,” Nik offers. “I’m on a break and I don’t mind. Been a while since I got any baby cuddles.” She makes a move to take Addie from him, but his hold on the infant tightens; drawing her even closer into his body.

“Leave her.” It comes out harsher that he’d intended it to, and he gives a small, apologetic smile when Nik frowns and slightly recoils from the abruptness of the order. “She’s just comfortable,” he says. “No sense waking her up. She had a rough night. I just wanna let her sleep.”

“Want me to take him? Nik nods down at Declan. “I honestly don’t mind. And it would give you a break. You’re still favouring that arm.”

“I’m fine. THEY’RE fine. Just leave them.”

She holds her hands up in surrender, then gestures towards one of the empty seats. “You mind?”

“Do what you want.”

She sits down across from him, then gives Declan a smile when he briefly opens his eyes; regarding her sleepily before wrapping his one arm even tighter around his father’s neck and shoving a thumb into his mouth. Heaving a long, weary sigh as he turns his head away from her.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Nik grins. “Wonder which parent he gets THAT from.”

“Might be the only one that actually goes through the terrible twos. Just a couple months to go.”

“That’s hard to believe. Two already. I remember when you guys found out he was on the way. Talk about a surprise.”

“He’s never done anything half ass, this kid. Been trouble right from the start.”

“I think I know where he gets that from.”

Tyler gives a small laugh.

“You’ve come a long way,” Nik muses. “I still remember you in the hospital, being scared shitless when you found out about Millie.”

“I wasn’t exactly in the best to become a dad.”

“Mentally or physically?”

“Both, I guess. Two months before I was close to putting a bullet in my head. Or at least desperate for someone to do it for me. Then I came so fucking close to dying right when I decided I didn’t want to anymore. Guess I was worried about what kind of dad I’d be. If I’d be able to get my shit together. Not just for the baby, but for her momma. Especially for her momma.”

“But you did. Get your shit together. And pretty admirably, too. You shocked a lot of us. I don’t think anyone expected you to clean yourself up and settle down.”

“Guess it was time. Guess all it took was getting shot in the neck and having someone love me enough to put their ass on the line to save me.”

“Tyler, I would have…”

“You were willing to leave me there, Nik. You DID leave me there. So don’t even try to say you would have done the same thing. You’re nothing like her; you’ll never be anything like her. So just stop.”

“Wow,” she scoffs. “That’s kind of harsh.”

“Harsh? Considering the shit you've been trying to pull off for seven years? I’d say it’s pretty tame. What do you expect from me? You expect me to take your side over my wife’s? You expect me to just forgive and forget? ‘Cause that’s never going to happen. Every chance we’ve given you...every time you’ve shown up asking us to put shit behind us...you just turn around and fuck up. I don’t want to hear it anymore. Once this is over, that’s it. For good. We both walk away and we forget we ever knew each other. My wife and my kids are my two only two priorities. Making you happy? Not even in my top ten.”

She nods slowly as she considers his words. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“You go on with your life, I go on with me. We each do our own thing. There’s enough business out there for both of us; shouldn’t be a reason our paths have to cross. I gotta put my family first, Nik. I especially need to put my marriage first. And if that means cutting ties altogether, it’s what I have to do.”

“Because she’s uncomfortable with me being around.”

“SHE has a name. And I love her and I respect her. And it’s about time you did too.”

“Tyler, I…”

“Guess you heard about Nathan? About Asif’s people having him.”

She nods. “I heard.”

“You don’t seem too upset about it; the fact they grabbed your boyfriend and are probably torturing the shit out of him as we speak. You don’t seem too torn up.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He never was.”

“You got awful defensive over some guy you were just banging. Didn’t get too attached to this one, huh?”

“Why do you have to be such a dick?” Nik inquires angrily. “Just because I disagreed with you on the whole ‘Nathan is the mole’ thing? Or is this some left over bitterness from the time you were in Dhaka? I explained to you why I didn’t think it was a good idea to go back for you and Esme. I…”

“It’s a lot of things,” he impatiently interjects. “It’s that, it’s the fact you knew about Gaspar working for Asif and you never said shit and you still let us wind up there. It’s that you spent the last six and a half years trying to jump on my dick while I had a wife and kids at home. And it’s that fact that you had such a problem with Esme and I getting together while on the job, yet being on the clock never stopped you from hooking up with me or Gaspar or Nathan. You had the fucking nerve to make a big thing about Esme and I, yet you’ve been doing the same shit for years. You’re a hypocritical bitch and it’s about time someone told you that.”

She smirks. “Too late; your wife beat you to it.”

“Yeah? Well great minds think alike, I guess. I’m just over it. I’m done. All that matters to me is my wife and my kids. And it’s time you realized that and respected it and got off my dick for good. I’m serious, Nik. Once this is over, pretend you never knew me. Go on with like I never existed. Do us all a favour. Including yourself.”

“Just like that? After years of working together? Years of being friends?”

“Yeah, just like that. Because I’ve got someone that means a hell of a lot more to me than you do and I’m done letting you fuck that up. I appreciate you being here; I appreciate you agreeing to stay here and offering up your people. But it ends here. It has to.”

“Fair enough,” she says, and out of the corner of his eye he can see her intently watching him; her shoulders and her jaw tense as she uncharacteristically fights back tears. 

Yet he feels nothing. No guilt for hurting her feelings. No regret for the things he’s said. And absolutely no sympathy considering all of the tricks she’d been playing through the years and all the lies she’s been telling.

“Do you still think Nathan’s the mole?” she asks.

“I don’t know what to think,” Tyler admits, and glances down at Addie as she moves against him; wriggling onto her side so her stomach and face press into him, one of her tiny hands tightly fisting his t-shirt. “Seems a little too coincidental; him showing up out of the blue after a week and a half. A little too neat and tidy if you ask me.”

“He didn’t look so neat and tidy on the video,” she points out.

“Didn’t look as bad as he should for someone that’s supposedly been getting the shit kicked out of him for a week and a half. Something’s not right. Where the fuck has he been all this time? You know as well as I do that Asif’s people would not have waited for this long to let us know they had him. You’ve got to admit; that’s a little weird.”

“I won’t deny that.”

“And you are telling me the truth, right? That you haven’t heard from him? Been in contact with him at all?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that, Tyler. I wouldn’t put all of this...your children...you...Esme...at risk like that. I’ve screwed up; I’ve made a lot of bad decisions and I’ve hurt both of you. But I wouldn’t do something like that. Not something that would jeopardize all of us. Especially your children.”

“I swear to God, if I found out it IS him and you’ve been protecting him all this time…”

“I would never...ever...do that to you or your family. I haven’t spoken to him, he hasn’t tried to contact me. I have no explanation for where he’s been or why he’s just showing up now. It’s just as strange to me as it is to you, believe me.”

He sighs heavily. “I need more proof. I need more proof and I’m running out of time.”

“You leave tomorrow morning?”

He nods.

“And you think it’s a good idea? Taking Esme with you?”

“Anil couldn’t get the info that I wanted. I need an intel person.”

“I have intel people, Tyler.”

“Someone I trust. She proved in Dhaka...especially on that bridge...that I could trust her. There’s no one I trust the way I trust her.”

“It’s dangerous; both of you there. If something happens to the two of you…”

“Nothing’s going to happen to us. Especially to her. I’ll take a bullet for her; in a heartbeat. I already have. As long as she gets back to the kids…”

“They need their father, too. Those kids love you to the moon and back. And it would destroy them if something happened to you.”

“They’d get over it. But they wouldn’t get over losing their mom. And honestly, neither would I. I wouldn’t be able to do this all by myself. Raise five kids? On my own? There’s no way in hell I could do it.”

“I think you seriously underestimate yourself.”

“I know my limits. And I love my kids; more than I ever thought I could possibly love another human being. But I couldn’t do it. And I don’t wanna to do it. This. I don’t want to do this without her. So if I lose her…”

“Who you gonna lose?” Millie inquires as she steps out of the house; crossing the cement patio in her bare feet and standing behind his chair; both arms circling his neck. “ Who you gonna lose, daddy?”

“No one.” He turns his face into hers and kisses her cheek. “I’m not not going to lose anyone.”

“Were you talking about mommy?” Millie flips her hands over and runs the tops along his cheeks, giggling at the way his beard feels against her skin. “Where you gonna lose her?”

“I’m not going to lose her anywhere? What’s that on your hands?”

“Mommy painted my nails,” Millie rests her chin on his shoulder and then stretches out her arms, wriggling her fingers to show off the bright pink and purple polish. “Do you like them? My toes match. We had a girl’s afternoon; manis and pedis and facials. And we ate lots of snacks and drank orange juice out of fancy glasses. It was our special treat ‘cause you guys are going away together tomorrow. So mommy spoiled me today.”

“We’ll only be gone for days. At the most.”

“Three days is long enough. Do we get to go home after?” She once more circles his neck with her arms, standing on her tiptoes in order to rest her cheek against his. “I miss home.”

“IF everything goes okay and mommy and I get things done, we’re going home right away. Day after we get back here. Sound good?”

She gives a sigh of relief. “Sounds perfect. I like it here, but I wanna go home.”

“I know you do. I wanna go home too.”

“I miss my own room. And my toys and my bike. I especially miss the beach and going surfing with you. Know what I miss the most?”

“What’s that?”

“Our Saturday morning’s together. I miss watching the sunrise with you and then helping you make us breakfast. And we go surfing and shell and rock hunting and hiking in the forest. I miss all that. When it’s just you and me. When we get alone time and I don’t have to fight for your attention. We have really good talks when we’re alone.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “We do. Where’s mommy?”

“She’s packing for your guys’ little trip. She sent me to ask you if you know where Fredrick is.”

Tyler frowns. “Who’s Fredrick?”

“Daddy1” Millie gasps, genuinely offended. “Fredrick! You know Fredrick! The koala you gave me. When I was born. You bought him at the store in the hospital. In Sydney.”

“I know where you were born. I was there when it happened.”

“Mommy said you almost fainted!”

“Mommy needs to stop telling all my secrets.”

“Do you know where he is? Mommy went to change Addie’s blankets and Fredrick wasn’t there. Addie always sleeps at night with Fredrick. I gave him to her because I was happy to finally have a sister. Do you know where he is? Mommy’s looking for him. She said you got Addie out of bed last night and maybe you moved him and put him somewhere and you forgot.”

Did he even see the bear last night? Normally it’s tucked into the left hand corner up by Addie’s head. Would he have even noticed it considering she was screaming bloody murder and cold to the touch and all he could think about was the wide open window? He’s pretty sure it…Fredrick...wasn’t there. And the mere thought of it makes his blood run cold and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Did you?” Millie asks. “Did you move Fredrick and forget?”

“I didn’t touch Fredrick.”

“Are you sure? Sometimes you forget things.”

“I did not touch Fredrick. I don’t know where he is. Maybe one of your brother’s took him; thought it would be funny to hide him.”

“I’ll kick them both in the ass if they did. Fredrick is family. You don’t fuck with Fredrick.”

He scowls. “Amelia!”

“Sorry,” she gives a sheepish smile and a tiny giggle. “Sorry Auntie Nik for the bad language. It just slipped out. I was mad.”

“It’s okay, sweet pea. I understand. I get mad too and say bad words.”

“Not as bad as daddy, I bet. Especially when he’s driving in the car and other people drive too slow or don’t use their blinkers. This one time, when we were in town, we were crossing the street where we were supposed to, and this guy came flying up in a car and he almost hit me and Tanner. You should have heard the language that came out of daddy’s mouth. He was so mad! I thought he was going to pull the guy out of the car and kill him. Mommy had to step in and calm daddy down. Then she told the guy to fuck off herself. Daddy was so proud of her.”

“That’s two F words in two minutes,” Tyler informs her. “That’s enough. No more, okay?”

“I had to tell the story and it’s not a good story without the actual word!”

“Why don’t you go and ask your brothers about Fredrick. And no kicking anyone’s ass. Got it?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Amelia Grace…”

“Tyler James…”

He frowns.

“That’s your name!”

“You don’t call me by my name.”

“Mommy does.”

“Well mommy is a grown woman and my wife. You’re six. And my daughter. No first names, remember?”

“It’s disrespectful.”

“Exactly.”

“I love you, though. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I’m sorry, daddy. I thought it was funny, but it wasn’t.”

“I love you, too.” he pecks her cheek. “Now go and ask your brothers about Fredrick.”

A pout curves her lips. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” She presses a kiss to her lips, then bounds off in the direction of the pool.

“She’s quite the spitfire,” Nik laughs.

“You think? She’s definitely her mother’s daughter.”

“There’s some Esme in her; I can see it. But she is definitely more you. Wait until she’s a teenager.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. I don’t like the thought of her growing up.”

“But she is; growing up. And she’ll keep growing up. You can’t stop it or slow it down. No matter how much you want to,.”

“I know,” he sighs. “But she’s my baby. The first one after...well...AFTER.”

“She definitely came at a time when you needed it the most.”

“Never in a million years did I think I’d be a dad again. I didn’t think I deserved a second chance at it.”

“And now you’ve been given five chances. So you must be doing something right.”

“I must be. Haven’t screwed any of them up too bad. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a damn good job. And it’s nice; seeing this side of you. Always is. It grounds me for some reason; when I get to see you being Daddy Tyler.”

“Being a daddy’’s pretty much the only thing I have to be proud of. I’m just hoping to get more chances. At being their dad.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Nik assures him. “You’ll get out of this in one piece.”

He sighs heavily. “I sure as hell hope so.”

****

“You really think this is a good idea?” Kyle inquires, as he leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest as he watches his sister move about the bedroom; throwing dirty clothes in one basket and pulling clean items from another. The latter being neatly folded and placed in two duffle bags that sit in the middle of the bed.

“There’s nothing good about any of this,” Esme replies. “Not a single fucking thing is good about this.”

“You don’t HAVE to go. You realize that, right?”

“It’s not that HAVE to go. It’s that I’m needed there.”

“Selfishly needed there.”

“Don’t start,” she warns, as she snags a t-shirt from the basket of clothes; vigorously shaking it before folding it against her chest. “Don't make this personal. I know how you feel; I’ve only spent spent almost the last seven years hearing about it.”

“I thought you left this behind you. The job. I thought you gave it up.”

“You never fully give it up. Just because you walk away from it, doesn’t mean it won’t suck you back in somehow. You’re never truly away from it.”

“Well you would if you actually walked away from it instead of keeping ties to it.”

“Kyle,” her eyes are narrowed as she glares at him. “...we are NOT having this conversation.”

“Why do you do this? Why do you keep letting this happen? You wouldn’t get sucked back in if you were away from it for good. If you…”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

“...were away from him.”

“What did I just say? I said we’re not having this conversation. I know how you feel; you suddenly don’t like Tyler. I get it. And quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. This isn’t your life, Kyle. I thought you were different. I thought you were the one who DIDN’T listen to mom’s crap and follow along with it.”

“This has nothing to do with her.”

“This has EVERYTHING to do with her. And your inability to yank your head out of her ass. You and Tyler used to get along. You were the only one that actually gave him a chance. You were the one that always defended me and him against mom. So what the fuck?”

“I never realized just what this life entails. What it takes out of you. The kind of stress and worry and shit that comes with it. How doing what he does…”

“He’s a mercenary. You can say it. It’s not a bad word. And there’s worse things he could be doing. Way worse.”

“Worse than killing people for money?”

She sighs. “We’re not getting into this again. That’s not ALL he does. There’s more to it. Just because you’re hung up on the whole killing people thing…”

“You know what I’m really hung up on? The fact that it doesn’t even bother you that he DOES kill people.”

“It’s part of the job,” she reasons. “It comes with it. He does what he has to do to get shit done and stay alive. Simple as that. And it’s not that it doesn’t bother me. Do I like that he sometimes has to kill people? Do I wish there were other ways he could handle things? Of course I do. But it’s what he does and I support him. It doesn’t have to make sense to you.”

“How does killing people for money even make sense? How can you even try to rationalize it?”

“What do you think I actually did when I was actively in the game? When I would take on a job? What do you think I did?”

“You weren’t killing people. I know that much.”

“I lied and I conned and I got people to trust me. Whatever way I had to. And not just normal people, Kyle. Dangerous people. Very dangerous and very powerful. I lied to them, I made them comfortable enough to let me into their circles, they confided in me. And then I gave them up. To guys like Tyler. There’s just as much blood on my hands as there is on his. Stop with this judgmental shit. It’s his job. It’s what he does. And he doesn’t need your blessing or your permission!”

“I don’t understand why you put up with this!” He exclaims. “This life! Don’t you want better for yourself?”

“I have it pretty damn good. Did you forget what my life was like before? The shit I went through with Mark? What he put me through? All his abuse? Did you suddenly forget about all of that?”

“You don’t think this is a form of abuse?” Kyle counters. “Forcing you into a life like this? Keeping you in it?”

“You did NOT just insinuate that my husband is abusive. He has never...ever...raised a hand to me or spoken down to me or treated me like complete and utter shit. He hasn’t beaten me or forced himself on me. He hasn’t…”

“He’s controlling. Manipulative. He’s…”

“Tyler? You’re talking about Tyler? MY Tyler? When the hell has Tyler ever been controlling or manipulative? Give me one example.”

“How about when he didn’t want you volunteering at the school? Or going to that moms group? Or being friends with Allison?”

“Okay, first of all…” she angrily shoves a pair of jeans into her own duffle bag. “None of those things were about control. He wanted to protect me. Yeah, he gets a little paranoid. He doesn’t trust a lot of people. And he especially doesn’t trust them with me. Do you realize the shit we’ve been through? The times we’ve almost lost each other? He goes a bit overboard; I’ll admit that. But controlling and manipulative? That is NOT Tyler. And as far as Allison goes, he was right about her. She might not have been up to anything bad, but she still lied and she still weaseled her way into lives and got near my children. Defend her all you want. She was still in the wrong.”

“For the right reason.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kyle. Look, I don’t care what’s going on with you two. You’re a grown man and I’m staying out of it. Like you should be staying out of my relationship. You’re my brother, not my father. Dad wouldn’t have even stuck his nose in all of this.”

“Dad would have showed up in Australia seven years ago and dragged your ass back home. That’s what he would have done.”

“I was twenty nine years old! I didn’t need my daddy to come and rescue me. I didn’t need to be rescued at all. I fell in love with someone and I made a new life for myself.”

“Fell in love with him or the idea of him? Someone big and tough who could protect you and take care of you like Mark wasn’t able to. Was it him you fell in love with or the picture you painted of him in your head?”

Esme scoffs. “That’s reaching, Kyle. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Why do you do this?” He stomps into the room, roughly grabbing both of her wrists, stilling her movements. “Why do you keep putting up with this?”

“First off, you’re hurting me. And you put one bruise on me, you’re going to have a whole world of hurt unleashed on your ass. That’s six foot three and about two forty. That’s a fight you will not win.”

Kyle loosens his grip, but doesn’t release her entirely. 

“Second, why do I keep doing what? What the hell are talking about?”

“Why do you stay? Why do you stay and let him drag further and further into this fucking craziness? Why do you put up with that?”

“He doesn’t drag me into anything. I knew what I was getting into. Right off the hop. I knew right from the start he was a mercenary. I knew all the stories, all the rumours. I went into it willingly and I stay willingly. He’s my husband, Kyle. He’s the father of my children. What else am I supposed to do? I support him. And you know what, sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes the past comes back like this. People come looking for revenge. That’s not Tyler’s fault. You think he wants this to be happening? You really think he WANTS to be here? Do you think he wants there to be threats against me and the kids? This isn’t fun for him either.” 

“Do you really want to know what I think?”

“No. But I bet you’re still going to tell me.”

“I think he’s a selfish fucking prick for even getting you mixed up in all of this...this kind of life...in the first place. I think it was selfish that he even hooked up with you at all. And that you were pretty goddamn stupid for going along with it.”

“I’m a grown ass woman,” Esme counters. “And it’s none of your business what or WHO I do. We were two consenting adults that wanted to fuck and that’s what we did. Multiple times, actually. He didn’t force me into anything; he didn’t pressure me or manipulate me, none of that. And he’s selfish? Because he wanted a life? Because he found someone he wanted a life WITH? That makes him selfish?”

“He should have just stopped at fucking you. He didn’t need to drag into anything more. Couldn’t he just fuck you and leave you?”

Esme scowls. “I can not believe you’re talking about your own sister like this. What the hell is your major malfunction? I moved on with my life. I got away from Colorado and away from mom and away from the rest of the family and their bullshit. I met someone and I fell in love with him and I married and I had his children. Sure, we didn’t meet in a conventional, normally way. And things that happened between us and how they happened were weird and they were done in questionable taste in a very questionable place. But it DID happen; we both wanted it and at the end of the five days we both realized we wanted to see if we could make something out of it.”

“Worst mistake of your life. It was…”

“And you know what?” she continues. “We did make something out of it. We made something pretty damn amazing. In fact, we had FIVE incredible little things. And yeah, we’ve had shit times. We’ve fought and we’ve hurt each other and there were times we didn’t think we were going to make it. We were so close, so many times, to just ending it.”

“Why didn’t you? Would have been the best thing for you. And those kids.”

“Because we love each other. And it sounds cliche, I know. But that’s all it is. We love each other. And you might not understand it, but the bond we have? That kind of thing can’t be replaced. Or replicated. What we went through on that bridge? That tied us together in a way you could never comprehend. Now you need to back off. Because that is my husband and the father of my children and I will defend him no matter what. So you need to get off his ass, once and for all.”

Kyle smirks. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re selfish, too. For getting mixed up with him. Bringing kids into this mess.”

“Hear what you want. I really don’t give a shit. I’m selfish because I fell in with someone and wanted a life with them? But you thought nothing about hooking up with the woman who’s spent years trying to fuck my husband. That’s a real brotherly thing to do. Shows how much you respect me.”

“You know he did, right? More than once. Fucked her. In the last six years.”

“Is that what she told you? That he cheated on me with her?”

Kyle nods.

“You know she lied about that, right? She admitted to Ovi she did. After he told Tyler what she said and Tyler gave me the heads up AND confronted her. My husband has his issues; he’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. But he’s not a cheater.”

“Because he tells you he isn’t?”

“Because I trust him. And because I know he loves me and that he’d never do anything to break our family apart It shows that you don’t even really know who he is and that you’ve never cared enough to get to know him. I don’t know what Tyler you know or you think you know, but it’s not MY Tyler. Now are we done here? Because I have shit to do.” She yanks her hands out of his grasp. “I’m leaving for Dhaka in the morning and I don’t have the time or the tolerance for your shit.”

He grabs her by the upper arm, fingers biting painfully into the flesh. “No. We’re not done.”

“That fucking hurts!” Esme angrily shows him backwards with enough force to cause the back of his legs to connect with the bed and send him tumbling backwards. “I won’t even waste my own energy hurting you. I’ll get someone a hell of a lot stronger to do it for me. Don’t you ever…ever...put your hands on me. You can underestimate Tyler all you want, but he could end you with one punch. And you’re pissing me off to the point where I’d let him. So why don’t you just…” she grimaces; a sharp pain in her lower stomach nearly taking her breath away, a hand instinctively and protectively covering the spot. “...fuck off already!”

“What’s going on?” Tyler asks as he steps into the room, an awake and content Addie -with a thumb shoved firmly in his mouth- laying stomach down on his forearm. And Esme knows that look; a mix of annoyance and rage that has been simmering for far too long. Even if he hasn’t been standing in the doorway long enough to have seen Kyle grab her or had been lingering in the hall and heard their conversation, he knows when a situation just isn’t quite right; able to read a room and body language and expressions quicker and better than anyone she’s ever known.

“Nothing.” She gives a reassuring smile, hand briefly rubbing her stomach before it drops to her side.

“You alright?”

She nods. “Kyle and I were just talking. Sibling stuff. Did you find Fredrick?”

“I haven’t seen him. And wasn’t his name Patrick? I thought his name was Patrick?”

“It was. That’s what Millie originally named him. She gave him a new name when she gave him to Addie. Don’t ask me. She’s your daughter. She gets her weirdness from you.”

“She’s all you in that category. And I have no clue where the damn thing is. I checked in the nursery; it’s not there. And the boys swear they didn’t take it.”

“Well it has to be somewhere,” she reasons. “It can’t get up and walk away on its own. Maybe it fell out of the crib and one of the dogs grabbed it. Or someone took it out and moved it and can’t remember where they put it. Did you move Fredrick last night?”

“Who the hell is Fredrick?” Kyle pipes up.

“He’s Addie’s stuffed koala,” Esme irritably explains. “It WAS Millie’s. Tyler bought it for when she was born and Millie carried it everywhere with her until Addie came along and she gave it to her. Tyler even went dumpster diving looking for it once after Millie left it at a restaurant and a worker said they threw it out. Daddy to the rescue. Fredrick was in the dumpster.”

“Someone also left Fredrick...Patrick back then...sitting on the roof of the car…” Tyler says, and jerks his head in Esme’s direction. “...and I didn’t know and pulled away. Guess who had to go back and look for three hours later when Patrick turned up missing and Millie was crying herself to sleep.”

“He drove two hours there AND back to find Patrick...or Fredrick...whatever the hell his name is. And he found him.”

“In the garbage,” Tyler adds.

“Never underestimate what a dad will do. Especially for his baby girl.”

“Speaking of baby girls...as in our first...she’s waiting downstairs because she said you promised to do crafts with her or some shit. And those are her EXACT words.”

“Oh crap! I forgot. Will you finish this? All the clothes from the blue basket get folded and packed. Here…” she gingerly plucks Addie from his arm. “...I’ll take her. She’s going to want to eat soon. Again.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Didn’t seem like a normal conversation.”

“It was nothing,” she assures him, then stands on her tip toes as he leans down to kiss her. 

“I saw you grab your stomach.”

“It’s nothing,” she promises. “Just a little crampy. Nothing bad; nothing I haven’t had before. I’d tell you if it was something else; if there was something you needed to worry about.”

“Alright.” He presses a kiss to her temple, then to the top of Addie’s head. Waiting until she steps from the room and halfway down the hall before watching her over his shoulder; brow furrowed and his lips set in a stern line. A mixture of concern and anger.

“If I could just squeeze by,” Kyle says, and attempts to slip from the room.

“Yeah...I don’t think so…” Tyler blocks his way, their chests half an inch apart as he backs his brother in law into the room. “...you and I are going to have a talk.”

“There’s nothing we need to talk about.”

“There’s plenty for us to talk about.” 

Kyle smirks as he’s backed up against the nearest wall. “I’m not scared of you.”

“I don’t give a shit. I don’t need you to be scared of me. And I don’t care if you don’t like me or respect me or if you see me as some selfish asshole that manipulated your sister into marrying me and having a family. I don’t give a fuck about any of that. You know what I DO give a fuck about, though? Your sister. My wife.”

“You heard her. She’s fine.”

He clamps a hand down on Kyle’s shoulder when he attempts to step away; aggressively shoving him back into the wall.

“What are you going to do?” Kyle scoffs. “Beat me up?”

“Don’t tempt me. Because I’m all out of patience and I’m full of rage and I have very little sanity left. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you’re not going to bully her. Not on my watch.”

“Who do I think I am? I’m her brother.”

“I’m her husband. And maybe Mark was the kind of guy that let you and the rest of the family pull that kind of shit, but I’m not. I won’t put up with it. You won’t treat her like that. You can try, but you won’t get away with it.”

“But you do it yourself. Bully her. Control her.”

“No. That was her ex husband. I have my issues and I admit to them. But I have never...ever...bullied her or controlled or manipulated her. And I never will. Because I love her too fucking much. That is the love of my life. That is the mother of my children. And I would put a gun in my mouth if I ever thought about hurting her.”

“But you drag her into all of this?” Kyle argues. “Into this bullshit life? You love her so much that you’d subject her to this? People threatening her, people threatening the kids. HER kids.”

“I’m going to make something very clear to you. I will kill anyone that touches her or those kids. I won’t even think twice about it. No one touches her. No one.”

“I never…”

“I saw it. I saw you grab her by the arm; I saw the way she defended herself. You’re damn lucky you didn’t keep it up because I would have come in here and beat your ass.”

“Oh here we go,” Kyle snorts. “The big tough guy. All show and no go.”

Tyler snatches his brother in law by the throat. “If you ever...and I mean ever...touch her again...or talk to her like you did again...I will fucking end you. No one touches her like that. No one disrespects her. Hear me?”

Kyle smirks.

Tyler tightens the hold on his neck. “Do you fucking hear me?”

“Yeah…” his brother in law chokes out. “...I hear you.”

“Don’t ever treat my wife like that. I ever hear that or see that again. I will end you in the most painful way possible.”

“That a threat?”

“No,” Tyler says, as he removes his hand from Kyle’s throat and heads for the door. “That’s a promise.”


	74. Chapter 74

They’re scheduled to arrive in Dhaka at ten in the morning; a three hour flight -on a jet paid for and chartered by Anil- that has spent in silence. Leaving the kids had been harder on them than on the kids themselves; promises to behaving leaving little lips and bright, optimistic smiles on little faces and not even a single child sized tear shed. Completely oblivious to the enormity of the situation; the suffocating weight of stress and worry that burdens their parents, or the anxiety that comes with returning to a place that holds so many bad memories. Tyler had done his best to rein in the tremendous fear that threatens to devour him. It’s two fold; that Mahajan’s people will manage to get to them before the job -in both Dhaka and Mumbai - are finished, and the realization that he may never see his children again. That those moments in the front foyer holding them and stroking their hair and kissing their cheeks just very well may be his last. 

It would have been so easy to stay. To just say ‘fuck oit’ and tell Anil to find someone else; choosing to stay with his family and keeping tem safe instead of worrying about other people. But he knows there’s no one else; no one with the skills and the experience that he possesses. And he’d given his word; verbal confirmation and a handshake just as good as signing your life away on a dotted line. He’ll do what he has to do to get the job done. To get Neysa and Aarav out safely and stick to his word that he’ll end things once and for all on his end; relying on -and trusting in- Anil to get to Mahajan and stop any and all threats and the man’s power and influence. Without him dead, any work in Dhaka will be for nothing. With the older Mahajan alive, the danger lives on as well; he’ll still badger Ovi about taking over the ‘family business’ and the threats against Esme and the kids will continue and there will always be people willing to carry out the dirty work. His family would never be able to live in peace; targets constantly on their backs, always having to watch over their shoulders or worry about every little thing that moves in the shadows or goes bump in the night. That isn’t the life he wants. Not for them. They deserve so much better than that. And they’ll only be spared that kind of miserable existence one of two ways: Mahajan’s death or his. 

She sleeps for the majority of the trip. Shoes kicked off and legs tucked underneath her, body turned sideways in her seat and her hand on his stomach and head against his chest. It’s a mixture of things; frazzled and fragile nerves, fear and worry, and that crippling exhaustion that she always experiences in the first trimester. Since news of returning to Dhaka -and the danger surrounding it- broke, she’s been extra ‘needy’. Having to be in near constant physical contact with him; tightly holding his hands or making her shoulder or arm are pressed against him or that her body is nestled into his. He knows all of her fears and worries just as well as he does his own. They’re powerful and all consuming; she can’t sleep without waking up several times a night in a sweat soaked panic, she barely eats, she’s irritable and overly emotional. And he’s tried to give her what she needs; endless reassurances that everything will be fine -whether he believes it himself or not- and long, quiet moments filled with just holding her as tight as he can and stroking her hair and placing kisses on her cheeks and her temples.

She needs that from him; those times of simple and ‘innocent’ intimacy. That physical connection that exists outside of sex. Letting her desperately cling to him during the more vulnerable and terrified moments; knowing that she’s worried about never getting the chance to be that close to him again. So he holds her while she sleeps; an arm wrapped tightly around her and a hand resting on the top of her head. Feeling her move against him with each slow, soft breath; thinking about how good she smells and feels and how it’s always seemed as if their bodies -despite the significant height and weight difference- just ‘fit’. Seamlessly and effortlessly moulding together and responding to one another in a way he’d never experienced before. He’d noticed it that first night seven years ago; lying with her in that cramped bed in that crappy hotel room. The way her form would instinctively respond to his; curving against him and fitting into him like a piece of puzzle that he’d never known he’d been missing. And it HAD scared him; feeling even the slightest bit of affection and tenderness towards someone he’d just met. But it hadn’t scared him enough to get him to stop, or push her away.

His eyes flicker open when he feels her move against him; her cheek rubbing against his chest before she lifts her head and her hand slips from his stomach and moves to her face in order to rub sleep from her eyes. It’s the first time he’s ever noticed so much of Tanner in her. That same disoriented and confused expression whey they first wake up; furrows in the brows and the narrowed eyes and the frown that curves the lips. In many ways Tanner IS just like him; the hair and the eyes and even the same ears and jaw line and mannerisms. But unlike the others -aside from Addie who is already the spitting image of her mother- there’s so much of Esme inside of Tanner;. And that’s a good thing. A damn good thing.

“Sleeping beauty awakes,” he chides, combing his fingers through her hair; fingers tangled in the dark, silky tresses as he draws her towards him and presses a kiss to her brow. You okay?”

She nods. “Just a bit of headache. How long was I asleep for?””

“Almost the whole flight. Close to three hours.”

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she laments. “At all.”

“Well did have five little bodies in bed with us; that might have something to do with it.”

“TJ had his feet in my back all night. And they’re as cold as yours, I swear.”

“You think that’s bad? I won't tell you where Declan had both knees all night.”

She laughs at that, then drapes her arm across his stomach and rests the side of her head against his shoulder. “I am so head achy and so nauseous.”

“You probably wouldn’t be so nauseous if you actually ate,” Tyler points out. 

“I can’t eat because I am nauseous,” she counters. “And we know why I’m nauseous. Can I not have one pregnancy where I feel amazing? Can’t I for once be one those lucky as fuck pregnant women that don’t get sick or have any real problems and always look so gorgeous and glowing and all that shit?” 

“You always look gorgeous when you’re pregnant, what are you talking about?”

“Baby, I love you, but I swear you’re fucking blind.”

“My eyesight is just fine. You just don’t see yourself the way I see you.”

“Yeah? And how is that? How do you see me?”

“Some way I’ve seen you from the beginning. Fucking amazing.”

She smiles and presses a kiss to his shoulder and rubs his stomach. “You have such a way with words. Who says romance is dead? No wonder I don’t get rid of you.”

“I can think of a few other reasons why you don’t.”

“You mean how you get things off the high shelves and open really tight jars for me? Or how you get the socks that get stuck at the bottom of the washer and how you get all the snakes and the spiders out of the house?”

“All that too, I guess. I was thinking about the things I do when we’re alone.”

“Oh, THOSE kinds of things,” she grins. “Those kinds of things are the sole reason I do keep you around.”

“I knew it.” He leans down and presses a kiss to her lips, then the bridge of her nose. “You really aren’t feeling good, are you.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t remember it being THIS brutal with any of the others. “

“I do.” He pushes her hair behind her ears and over her shoulders, and she gives a giggle when he lays his palm against her face, then a sigh when his fingers and thumb massage her temples and forehead. “You were pretty bad with Declan.”

“Everything was difficult with that kind. I mean, he was almost ten and a half pounds when he was born. It was like giving birth to a toddler. Addie was nice and easy. I’ll take another Addie; she was quick and effortless and I barely felt a thing.”

“That’s because she barely weighed five pounds. She was pretty damn tiny.”

“But healthy. And that’s what matters. That’s all I want; a healthy baby.”

“I want you BOTH healthy.”

“Once we get home, I will let you wait on me hand and foot. I’ll let you dote on me and spoil me. I know how much you like doing it.”

“I know how much YOU hate it; being treated like that. Miss Independent, ‘I don’t need no man.’”

“I’ll admit; I do like it sometimes. I do like letting you do all of that. And I appreciate you that you WANT to do it. I don’t care what you say; you ARE beautiful . You’re cute and you’re sweet and I love you.”

“I know you do. And I love you. More than you could ever know.” He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose and then moves his palm to her forehead; thumb massaging one temple, forefinger rubbing at the other. “It’s going to be okay.” Those words are more for her benefit than his own; he’s already accepted his potential demise. All he can do is bust his ass to get Neysa and Aarav -and even Nathan- out alive and hope for the best when it comes to himself. “It’s all going to work out.”

“I think we should go away when all this is over,” Esme muses. “Just us. Even if it’s just for a week. Just me and you. Well, little bean, too.”

“Little bean doesn’t have much of a choice when it comes to tagging alone. How’d that ever start in the first place? The whole little bean thing?”

“You said Millie looked like a bean at the first ultrasound and it stuck. They’ve all been little bean since. It’s cute; all the little names you come up with for the kids. Like your little peanut.”

“It’s ‘cause she is my little peanut. She’s tiny. Like her momma. I’m always going to call her that. Even when she’s all grown up and old enough to get married and have her own kids. I just hope I get to see all of that. I hope I get to see her first birthday.”

“You will. Like you always say, you’re not a rookie. You know what you’re doing. You’ve done hundreds of extractions. Safe AND successful ones.”

“This isn’t like any of those.”

“So there’s a bit more to it; there’s a lot of obstacles in the way. But I have faith in you. I know that you’ll do whatever it takes to get out of there; to get home to your family. You have a lot of reasons to stay alive. A lot of motivation to walk away from all of this.”

“You’re awful optimistic all of a sudden.”

“Not really,” she admits. “It’s all bullshit. I try to convince myself because if I don’t, all I’ll think about is the worst case scenario. And it’s pretty fucking bad and I don’t want to think about it. So let’s just pretend that everything’s going to be okay; let’s talk like it will be. Because the alternative is NOT something I want to dwell on.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” Tyler promises, as he slowly runs his fingers through her hair. “To get myself out of there. But if I can’t…”

“Don’t,” she begs. “Don’t get there, Tyler. Please don’t. Don’t say anything else.”

“IF I don’t, I need you to promise me that you’ll do whatever it takes to keep the kids safe. You take the money...you empty the bank account of every last cent...and you go. You take them and you go and you don’t look back. Because if even one of these assholes makes it out of there and I don’t…”

“Stop…” Esme pleads. “...just don’t…”

“...you have to go. You take the money and the kids and you go. And you make a life for yourself and them and you pretend like I never existed. You change your last name, you change theirs. There can’t be any ties to me, you know. So you do whatever you have to to keep them AND you safe. Understand? Tell me you understand.”

“I know what I have to do; we have this talk at least every six months. I know what I have to do, I just don’t want to have to do it!” She sits up and angrily shoves her feet into her shoes. “I can’t just move on; I can’t just bury you and pack up my kids and my entire life and pretend that the last seven years never happened. And I don’t understand how you expect me to. I can’t just lose you and forget about you.”

“I never said…”

“Would it be that easy for you? If something happens to me, you’ll just be able to forget I ever existed? That WE ever existed? Is it going to be that simple for you?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Nothing…”

“If I died today, you’d just move on? That would be it? The last seven years will have meant nothing to you? You’ll just get over it? Just move on with your life and find someone else. Is that what you would do?”

“No. That’s NOT what I would do. Because I wouldn’t need to. You have to for a reason. For five...six…” he nods down at her stomach. “...very good reasons. Because if I’m not around, who protects you? Who protects them? It’s not the same; you losing me and me losing you. It’s not. And you know that.”

“I know what I have to do. And I know why I have to do it. I’ve always known it; we’ve talked about it since Millie was a baby. About what I had to do to protect her. But don’t ever tell me that I have to forget about you. That I have to pretend like you never existed.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t…”

“Because you DID happen. And the last seven years happened! And if something does go wrong and I do lose you, every time I look at those kids I’ll think of you. Every time something good happens or one of them reaches a milestone or does something amazing, I’m going to think of you and how I wish you were there to see it. So don’t tell me I have to forget about you because that’s impossible and it’s unfair. And fuck you for even expecting that of me.”

“Baby…” he lays a hand on the back of her neck. “...I didn’t…”

“Maybe it would be easy for you. Maybe you’d be able to just move and forget me. Maybe the second I’m put in the ground you’d be able to find someone to take my place. But I’m not you!”

“Is that what you think? You think I’d do that? That I’d just find someone else? I don’t want anyone else. And I wouldn’t fucking do that; I wouldn’t just find hook up with another woman and make a new life.”

“But you expect me to do it? You expect me to just move on? Are your kids supposed to forget about you, too? Do I tell your six years old daughter that she has to pretend you never existed? Is that what I tell her?”

“No. Of course not. That’s NOT what you tell her.”

“They’re kids, but they’re old enough to remember you and it’s unfair that you expect them not to. They’re little kids, Tyler! And what you’re asking me to do is bullshit and you know it!”

“All I’m asking you do, all I’m telling you do it…”

“I know what you’re telling me to do. And I know what I have to do. No matter how fucking bad it will hurt. And I’ll do it; I’ll take the kids and I’ll go. But fuck you for telling me that we have to forget you. You’re a fucking dick for even saying that!”

“Esme, settle down,” he implores. “You took what I said totally out of context and…”

“I love you, but I’m tired of this. I’m tired of it and I fucking hate this life!”

Silence descends on the cabin. Sighing heavily, he rakes a hand through his hair and runs a palm over his weary face; observing her out of the corner of his eye when she begins muttering a slew of profanities. Fighting as she struggles to get her seat belt done up; unable to see the clasp through the flood of tears that spill down her face. And when she becomes more frustrated and the quiet tears turn into loud, body shaking sobs, he lends his assistance.

“Calm down,” he gently orders, forehead resting against hers as he tends to the belt. “...please just calm down.”

“You know, considering how many times you’ve made the mistake of telling me to calm down, you’re lucky to still have your dick.”

“Well at the risk of you chopping it off, you DO need to calm down. It’s not just you I’m worried about.”

“Had I cut your dick off a long time ago, I wouldn’t be this way would I.”

“Even when you’re not pregnant, you’re still kind of irrational.”

“I will kill you in your sleep. Don’t underestimate me; I’m little, but I will bring you to your knees.”

“Oh believe me, I know you will. And not in the fun, sexy way either.”

She gives a small laugh. 

“I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“I’m not crying because of you. I’m crying because I can’t get the stupid seat belt done up!”

“Well you’d stop fighting me and let me do it…”

She relents. Holding her hands up in surrender and then giving a sheepish smile and pressing a kiss to his cheek when she snaps the belt in place.

“Are you done?” Tyler asks. “You got it all out?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Let’s not blame this one on the baby.”

“I’m stressed and I’m worried and I’m scared and I don’t want to go back there. It’s too hard; it hurts too much and I just want to turn around and go back. I don’t want to go there.”

“You think I want to? That’s the last place I want to be.”

“I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t hate this life. Because we have a good life. We have an amazing life and amazing kids and I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t hate my life, I just hate this part of it. And I AM tired of it; I’m tired of being scared and worried and having to imagine my life without you. I can support you...and I DO...but I don’t have to like it. I’m just worried. About you.”

“I know you are.”

“And I’m not blaming the baby, but I AM really hormonal and it’s driving me crazy. Because one minute I want to fuck you senseless and then the next I want to throat punch you. And I’m sorry for that; wanting to throat punch you sometimes.”

“I kind of deserve it sometimes, I think. I’d rather you fuck me than throat punch me, though.”

“Fucking you is what got me into this hormonal mess. Why can’t I just say no? Why can’t I just tell you to leave me alone and roll over and go to sleep? I was such a good girl before I met you; I was pure and innocent and now look what you’ve done.”

He smirks. “There was nothing pure and innocent about you when we met, but nice try.”

“Hey, you’re only the third guy. Ever. So that’s kind of pure and innocent.”

“Someone who is pure and innocent would NOT have let me do the things you let me do.”

“You corrupted.”

“Bullshit. We both know you’re lying.”

“Maybe you turned me into the mess I am now,” Esme reasons. “Maybe you should be proud of yourself. That you’re THAT good at what you do; that you managed to corrupt me and turn me into a nympho. Ever thought of it THAT way? That your skills turned me into the way I am?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Nope,” she giggles, then bites down on her body lips. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“I’m used to it. I’m sorry that I made you cry. I probably didn’t say things that way I SHOULD have said them.”

“You think?”

“I don’t expect you to forget me. To act like I never happened or that we never happened. I didn’t mean it like that. But I just want you to be safe; you and the kids. That’s all I want.”

“We’re safe when we’re with you.”

“But if something does happen…”

“No….” she circles her neck with her arms and buries her face in his chest. “...we’re not talking about this. I won’t talk about this.”

He rubs his hands up and down her back. “Baby…”

“No.” she forcefully repeats. “We’re not doing this. I can’t do this. Not right now.”

“Alright,” he relents, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and then wrapping both arms around her tiny body. “...not right now.”

“I can’t lose you,” she whimpers against him. “I just can’t.”

He wants to tell her she won’t; that everything is going to be okay. That they’re going to make it out alive. BOTH of them.

He tightens his hold on her instead.

*****

Their temporary home sits on the outskirts of the city centre; only two blocks from where they’d spent that fateful night at Gaspar’s. A three story single family home in what’s considered an affluent area of Dhaka; owned by a colleague of Anil’s who’d offered it up as a ‘safe house’ until the job is completed. 

His own stress level has been on the rise since they touched down. All the memories -the horrifyingly bad ones, at least- flooding through him at once and nearly causing a panic attack before they even left the airport; Anil securing them a rental car under a fake name and paying by wire transfer from an offshore account. And the tension and anxiety had been so overwhelming that he’d purposefully gone forty minutes out of the way to avoid having to take the Sultana Kamal Bridge. He wouldn’t have been able to handle travelling over it; he’d been silently praying for days that he wouldn’t HAVE to. It had been bad enough seeing it from the air; the effects of the PTSD clutching at his chest and turning his stomach and transforming the normal flow of cars and pedestrians into a war zone. All he could see was what existed seven years ago; blood and spent bullets and dead bodies strewn among burnt out vehicles. He could see it as clear as day; he could smell the gunpowder and gasoline and taste his own blood and sweat and hear the cries of the injured and dying. 

By the time they arrive at the house he’s calmer; the extra forty minutes in the car effectively bringing his blood pressure and his anxiety to a manageable level. And for several minutes they sit in the driveway with the engine idling and neither speaking a word; the home before them eerily similar and bringing back a lot of bad memories and a world of pain. That night seven years ago should have gone so different. They should have been safe and it should have been the first step on their way to freedom and all the plans they’d made.

SHOULD HAVE BEEN.

“We can just say ‘fuck it’ and rent a hotel room,” Tyler suggests. He hates that look in her eyes; that traumatized, haunted look that he’s seen way too many times in the past few days. Despite knowing what she’d gone through in Dhaka and the things she’d seen and the things she’d had to do to keep him alive, he often underestimates just how much it HAS affected her. And just how deeply and badly it continues to. There’s a lot of healing left to do.

“It’s not safe at a hotel,” Esme says. “You know that.”

“Right now, I’m more worried about you being okay. And if being here is just going to make things worse...if it’s just going to upset you and stress you out more…”

“I’ll be okay.” she assures him, and leans across the seat to peck his cheek. “You worry too much.”

“I’ve got a damn good reason to worry. TWO damn good reasons.”

“Once we’re in there AND I get comfortable and I convince my brain it’s not seven years ago and this isn’t Gaspar’s, I’ll be fine. We’re safe here. And we’re together. That’s what matters, right?”

“That’s ALL that matters. But if you’re not okay, at least tell me, yeah? So I can make it...YOU...okay.”

“Those lings are going to stay on your forehead and around your eyes if you keep worrying and frowning so much,” she teases. “I’ll be fine. I just need to accept being back here and not dwell on the past and at least try and get comfortable. And it's not like we’ll be here for long, right? A few days at the most.”

“I’ll try to make it as short of a stay as possible, I promise.”

“I think that kind of falls on me; how quick I can get what you need. I figure I have two days…” she crosses her fingers. “...to get shit done.”

“I was thinking twenty four to thirty six hours,” he admits.

She frowns.

“No pressure,” he adds, then leans in to kiss her. “You’ve got this. All of this.”

“You have a lot of faith in me, Tyler Rake.”

“If you get me off that bridge alive, you can do anything.”

“WAY too much faith in me,” she declares, and kisses him; long and soft and sweet, his face cradled gently in her hands.

****

The inside of the house is a relief; cheerful with its snow white walls adorned with vibrant, eye-catching art and it’s bright orange couches and chairs adorned with pillows of various patterns and bold, bright colours. It’s open concept and it’s airy and it helps to loosen the anxiety hanging over the situation, and he finds that for the first time since leaving Mumbai, he can actually breathe easily. Somewhat comforted by the elaborate security system and the pleasant surroundings and the thought of not being too close to the city center.

“What’s it like up there?” he asks, as Esme returns from a tour of the top floor. Like Gaspar’s the stairs lead into the open concept kitchen, dining area, and living room. 

“It’s really nice. It’s colourful and it’s cherry and it’s going to make staying here a lot easier. There’s even…” she pauses, a frown on her face and her eyes on the holster on his hip.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” he reasons.

“...there’s even one of those massive infinity tubs in the master ensuite,” she says, and she continues down the stairs. “You know where I’ll be every minute of my down time.”

“As long as you don’t expect me to join you.”

She rolls her eyes and then places her hands on hips as she stands in front of him. “Regardless of what you think, taking baths don’t make you less manly.”

“I don’t want to smell like flowers. I saw what you packed; it’s all your girly shit.”

“Well then you should have packed your own damn bag. And I am a girl, remember?”

“Oh I remember that very well.”

“I have to show you something.”

He grins. “Right here in the kitchen?”

She slides one of her hands off his hip and reaches around to pinch his ass. “Don’t be a pig. I can show you THAT upstairs. And before I show you what I have to show you, you have to promise you won’t call me crazy.”

“I can’t make those kinds of promises.”

She glares up at him..

“I promise I won’t call you crazy.”

“Okay, first, I have to ask you a question. When was the first time we had sex after Addie was born?”

“I dunno. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question. Think.”

“I guess…” he shrugs. “...she was three weeks old. About that.”

“Okay, so it happened then. Say it was that first time. That would make me what? Eleven weeks?”

“Ten, eleven, I guess.”

“Can you explain this to me then?” She lifts up the front of her t-shirt and runs a hand over the visible bump in her leggings. “How the hell does this happen overnight? And don’t say ‘what’ because I damn well know you can see it. Everybody would be able to see it if I didn’t wear a baggy top today. You have some explaining to do.”

“It’s a baby bump. So? I’ve seen five already. It’s cute.”

“Cute? At eleven weeks? How big IS this baby? I didn't show this soon with Declan and he was massive! What is this? This should not be here yet.”

“You showed this early with the…”

“Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare.”

“Well you did. I’m just pointing out that…”

“This is your fault! You realize that, right? Because you some damn powerful swimmers that apparently don’t take no for an answer. You were supposed to tell me that the doctor said to use some kind of protection for up to eight months.”

“I honestly forgot.”

“And just for that, you’re going to be on dirty, shitty diaper duty for the first three months. How is this even possible?” she nods down at her stomach. “Explain this! How does it just show up?”

“I noticed it yesterday,” Tyler admits. “When you were naked after we…”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“It’s YOUR body. I thought you already knew.”

“This is so your fault.” She drops her t-shirt down over her stomach. “I’m blaming this one solely on you.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. We decided to have another one. It just happened sooner than we thought it would.”

“Yeah, WAY sooner, thanks to you. And now I’m already starting to show and we won’t be able to hide it much longer.”

“Once we get home and you see a doctor and we get past the first three months, then we’ll tell people. We agreed on that, yeah? Let’s not have a repeat of what happened the last time we told people too soon.”

“You realize that’s not what happened, right?” She wraps her arms around his waist and presses her body against his. “It didn’t happen because we told people too soon. We didn’t jinx it.”

“I know.” He loops her hair behind her ears, then drags his knuckles along her jaw before taking her face in his hands. “I’d just rather not tell anyone yet. Just in case.”

“You’re worried about it, aren’t you. That it’ll happen again.”

“It’s already happened twice. If we count Mark.”

“That was a blessing in disguise if you think about it. That would have been a disaster; having a baby with him. And I don’t know what happened to us. I mean, I did everything right. I was eating well and taking vitamins and being careful and…”

“It just happened. There’s no reason.”

“I thought it was my fault. That maybe I did something wrong. And I kept thinking about it and going over it and…”

“Baby...come on...you’re getting emotional. There’s no need to.”

“I felt guilty. I felt like I caused it in some way.”

“You know what? That’s what Mark put in your head the first time around. You didn’t do anything wrong. Not then, not with ours. It just happened.”

“I was so scared. That you’d blame me. That you’d hate me. And I’m sorry; that it happened. I’m sorry that…”

“Stop,” he pecks her mouth to silence her. “You’re stressed and you’re hormonal and you’re letting things get to you. Just stop.” He presses his lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger for several seconds. “You hungry? Fridge and cupboards are stocked. I’ll make us something to eat.”

“Later. I’m not that hungry.”

He scowls. “Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“You need to eat. Little bean is counting on you.”

“And I will eat. Later. I WILL eat whatever you make. But right now, I’m tired.”

“You slept on the plane.”

“And I’m still tired. I just need a couple more hours. You know I’m always like this in the first trimester. I can’t seem to sleep enough. And right, I badly need sleep. Like really, really, really badly.”

“And then you’ll eat. Because you haven’t been. And you need to.”

“I promise you, I will eat. I know you worry and I love you so much for it. I do. But I’m fine and according to my stomach, our baby is growing very well. I’m okay. WE’RE okay. And right now, we need sleep.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, and pecks her lips.

“And I think you should sleep with me.”

“I’m not tired.”

“At the risk of sounding really needy, I really want you to come and sleep with me. Not sleep if you’re not tired, but at least lie with me. Just life there and stroke my hair and hold me and let me sleep on you. That’s what I want; that time with.”

“That’s what I want too.”

“Just for a little while. I just want to be in your arms. I NEED to be in them. And you’re not going to deny your wife...your pregnant wife...are you?”

“No,” he says with a grin, and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not.”

*****

He manages to rest for three and a half hours; drifting off mere minutes after his head hit the pillow. Lulled to sleep by the warmth of her body pressed against his and the repetitive motion of his fingers moving through her hair and that familiar, yet still alluring smell that clings to her. He doesn’t move for another thirty minutes; staring up at the ceiling as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing as she sleeps soundly next to him; on her side with her ass pressed against his hip and her head in the crook of his elbow and both arms wrapped around his forearm. She doesn’t budge until he’s forced to flex his fingers and squeeze them into a tight fist to rid his hand of pins and needles; feeling the movement of the muscles against her. And she gives a long, content sigh as she rolls over to face him, eye still closed as she drapes an arm across his chest and rests her head on his shoulder.

“I used to watch you sleep.”

Her eyes flicker open and she raises her head to look at him. “What?”

“Seven years ago. In the hotel room. I used to watch you sleep.”

“You did?”

Tyler nods. “How fucking weird is that? How weird am I? That’s fucked. We barely knew each other. And I did something like that?”

“There’s nothing weird about it. What makes it weird?”

“What did we really know about each other? Outside of fucking.”

“We were getting to know each other. We’d always talk afterwards and some of those talks were pretty intense. It wasn’t exactly standard pillow talk. We had some serious conversations.”

“Still. It’s creepy as hell; watching someone sleep.”

“You’ve admitted you do it now. That you watch me sometimes.”

“That’s different. You’re my wife. You weren’t back then.”

“I was your pretend wife.”

He frowns.

“It’s not creepy. Why would it be creepy? You admitted to smelling my hair.”

“Okay, that is NOT what I said. What I said was that I wanted you to stick close enough that I COULD smell your hair. Now that I WAS smelling it.”

“What would you think about? While you were watching me sleep?”

“I already admitted I watched you sleep. You want me to talk about THAT too?”

“Go big or go home, right? Tell me. What did you think about…?”

“Esme…”

“Tell me,” she implores, and reaches up to push his bangs off his forehead. “...tell me what you’d think about.”

“Isn’t one confession enough? I admitted to watching you sleep. Why do you need to know anything else?”

“Tell me,” she insists, and placess a series of feathery kisses along his jaw. “...please? I don’t get these kinds of confessions out of you very often. I want to hear it. Please?”

“For fuck sakes…”

“If you’re worried I’m going to laugh at you, I promise I won’t. It’s probably so sweet and adorable and…”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

“Tell me. I want to hear it. I’ve told you every single one of my embarrassing confessions. I deserve to hear one of yours.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “I would think about how beautiful you were. I liked how your skin looked in the moonlight and I liked your freckles and your long eyelashes and how it always looked like you were smiling while you slept. And then I’d think about how the hell we ended up where we were and if you’d want anything to do with me after it was all over. And that I hoped you did.”

“You actually thought about all that?”

He nods. 

“Baby, that is so beautiful. It’s beautiful and it's so sweet and it’s so heartfelt and…”

“Fuck me,” he growls.

“Are you blushing?” She shoves a hand into his hair and turns his head towards her. “Oh my god, you are. You ARE blushing!”

“I don’t blush!”

“You’re blushing right now.”

“Fuck!” He snags her pillows and holds it firmly over his face. “Fuck!”

“What? What’s wrong with blushing? Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I don’t fucking blush!”

“Yes, you do.” She peeks under the edge of the pillow. “You’re totally blushing. You’re so red. I haven’t seen you blush in years! It’s only happened twice since I’ve known you. Aww, Tyler…” she pries the pillow away from his face and tosses it aside. “...you’re so adorable.”

“Stop!”

“No. I will not. You are adorable. You don’t think mercenaries can be adorable?”

“Not this one.”

She climbs on top of his, straddling his stomach. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“I just admitted to watching you sleep. To thinking things I should not have been thinking about a girl I just met. It’s weird and it’s creepy as fuck,”

“Well I think it’s beautiful.” She speaks between pecks to his lips. “And you have nothing to be embarrassed about. So you were having the feels for me…”

“Oh God...fucking shoot me now…”

“I was having the feels for you. What’s the big deal? Sometimes people connect right away. It happens. Look where we ended up. So what if other people think it happened too soon? So what if it was scary that it was happening so fast? All that matters is where we are now. And believe me, I never thought my fake husband would end up being my real husband. But I’m glad he did. He’s a keeper.”

Grinning, he reaches up to clear hair away from her face, then runs his palms along her shoulders and down her arms. “How long you going to keep me for?”

“I don’t know. How long are you willing to stick around for?”

“You mean IF I make it out of here?”

Esme frowns. “We are not talking about that. We are not using those words. THAT word. There’s no ‘if’; you are getting out of this. And then we’re going to go home and we’re going to go on with our lives and raise our kids and have another baby. And things are going to be amazing. Because we deserve that.”

He inhales deeply, then releases a long, shaky breath. “I’m scared.”

“I know you are.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared. Not even seven years ago. Not even when I thought I was dying on that bridge. I mean, I was. Scared. But not like this.”

“Back then you didn’t have everything to lose. Not like you do now.”

“I don’t want to die. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to leave you or the kids. I’m not ready to give up this life. OUR life. Seven years is not enough time. It’s not early enough.”

“This isn’t a death sentence, Tyler. It doesn’t have to end like that. You know it doesn’t.”

“Kind of fitting, don’t you think? Kind of makes sense. Look where we are. This place didn’t kill me the first time. It won’t fuck up a second time.”

“That means nothing. It’s just a place. It’s just a city like millions of other cities. They lured you here to fuck with your head and it’s working. That’s the only reason you’re here. No more, no less. And things come in threes, right? That’s the old saying? You survived the first time, so you’ll survive the second.”

“This makes the first time look easy. And how fucked THAT was. This place is hell for us. It’s nothing but bad memories and horrible shit and…”

“It wasn’t all bad,” she argues. “Two very good things came out of her. Us and Millie. And I know it’s hard to think that way; that it’s hard to see past all the shit in order to get to that silver lining. But our daughter was made here. WE were made here. This is where we started. And we’ve come a long way since then. We got out of this place once, we’ll get out of it again.”

“I just want you safe. That’s all that matters. As long as you and the kids survive…”

“Listen to me…” she tugs firmly at his hair. “...we need you to survive, too. Don’t do this, Tyler. Don’t resign yourself to your fate like this. Because it does NOT have to end that way. You’re going to get out of there and we’re going to live a long life. We’re going to grow old together and we’re going to spoil grandchildren together and we’re going to drive each other totally insane. Because you’re right; seven years is NOT enough. Not by a long shot.”

Reaching up, he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her down into a kiss; fingers tangled in her hair as his lips move softly against hers.

“Promise me,” she pleads, as she wraps both arms around his beck and tucks her head under his chin. “Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to get yourself out of there. That you’ll stop at nothing to get back to me and the kids. Promise me, Tyler.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says, as he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I promise.”


	75. Chapter 75

Koen arrives shortly before ten in the evening. A paper bag full of bottles of booze under one arm and a tattered and weathered backpack slung over the other; looking slightly worse for wear, even for him. He’s always been dishevelled and unkempt at best, but the pace and the intensity of the job has taken its toll on him; his beard thicker and and boasting more strands of gray, his face and body remarkably thinner and marred by both old and fresh bumps, bruises and contusions that will definitely scar. But that old familiar glitter is still in his eyes; the one that speaks of mischievousness and trouble and gives away his quick and sometimes cutting tongue before he even opens his mouth. The last three weeks have been hell on everyone involved; physically AND mentally. Bodies being consumed by near constant pain, little sleep and poor diet while their brains are subjected to fear, stress, and the overwhelming worth that comes each step out the door and onto the street. 

But it’s almost over; the finish line finally in sight. With the list complete, only Mahajan himself and Asif’s people remain; the latter extra hurdles they never expected to confront. No one ever stopped to consider that Mahajan’s reach extended further than India, or that anyone would be able to get to Neysa and Aarav. Nathan is nothing more than a ‘tag along’; extra weight that has to be carried. And his true involvement and whether or not he IS the mole, is yet to be determined. To an untrained eye, it would be easy to see Nathan as another victim; the multitude of injuries and the defiance caught on video. But there’s too many unanswered questions to just let him off the hook. Too much suspicion and things that can’t be explained revolving around his disappearance and sudden reappearance, and it would be foolish -and possibly deadly- to let your guard down around him.

“Am I ever fucking glad to see your ugly face,” Koen says, as he sets both bags down on the kitchen table and then tightly embraces Tyler.

This isn’t one of his usual hugs. It’s warm and genuine; filled with enormous relief and a little gratitude that they've both survived long enough to get a moment like this. And when he pulls away -holding Tyler at arms length, a hand coming up to clasp him on the back of the head before tightly cupping it- there’s something even more unfamiliar in his eyes: a shimmer of tears and honest, pure affection. Normally Tyler would jump on it and rib his old friend about something like that; in the same way Koen would do to him if the situation was reversed. But now is not the time. The last three weeks have felt like three years; everyone involved is exhausted and hurting and relying on nothing more than adrenaline -the hope of it all sending soon- to keep them going. And there’s the strong possibility that someone -or more than one person, even- won’t make it out alive. The realization that the person standing in front of you might not survive and this could very well be the last time you ever see them.

“You good?” Koen ruffles the hair at the back of Tyler’s head. “How you feeling? You sure look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“I’m alright, I guess. Could be better, could be worse.”

“What’s the pain like? That guy fucked you up pretty good.”

“I’ve had worse.” It’s not entirely a lie. When he’d woken in the hospital seven years ago, the agony had been intense; there hadn’t been a single inch of his body that hadn’t hurt. Since then he’s lived in chronic pain. Some days he’s able to manage and others he can barely get out of bed in the morning. This is a new level of discomfort; increasing and worsening mobility issues, the pins and needles in his right hand, the need for more and more meds to just take the edge off.

“Well you look good. Hell of a lot better than the last time I was with you. Which doesn’t take much, considering you were covered in your own puke and piss and I had to undress you and toss you in the shower.”

Tyler smirks. “I remember when that used to be a sign of a really awesome Friday night.”

Koen cracks a grin at that. “We’re both getting way too old for that shit. And you’ve past it, thank Christ. I honestly thought one day I’d show up at your place and find you dead. About time you smartened the hell up and got your shit together.”

“Guess all I needed was a kick in the ass.”

“A kick in the ass from the right person, you mean. ‘Cause I spent years kicking you in the ass and it did nothing but make you worse. I guess the kick had to come from a hot little brunette to have any effect on you.”

“Yeah…” Tyler grins. “...I guess it did.”

“Can’t say I blame you. She’d be all the motivation I’d need, too. Figure we should be both thanking our lucky stars that she came around when she did. Had it even been a couple months later…”

“Trust me; every day I’m grateful for that. Every goddamn day. For the past seven years.”

“Good. Because you should be. Because even though you were a fucking wreck, she stuck around. She could have easily taken one look at you and thought ‘damaged goods’ and hauled ass on out of there. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have blamed her. You were a lot to handle. She must be made of tough stuff, because she wasn’t afraid of your shut or to put a foot up your ass.

“She’s still not afraid of that. And she is. Tough. Strong. A lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”

“That’s exactly what you need,” Koen declares. “A strong woman. Someone to challenge you and to keep challenging you. Although I do question her sanity. No one in their right mind would hook up with the likes of your sorry ass.”

“I lost my sanity a long time ago,” Esme says, as she descends the stairs. “Why do you think I have five kids? Do you think anyone with a shred of sanity left would do that to themselves?”

“I thought it was because he couldn’t stay off ya and you don’t know the word ‘no’.”

“I admit, it IS hard. He’s devastatingly handsome and can be very persuasive.”

“Devastatingly handsome?” Koen scoffs. “Sweetheart, you are blind as shit. How’s it going, kiddo?” He embraces Esme warmly, then presses a kiss to each cheek. “Looking lovely, as always.”

“Now who’s blind as shit? I look like the offspring of a dumpster fire and a train wreck. But I appreciate you trying to feed my ego.”

“Don’t even argue with her,” Tyler says. “For every good thing you bring up, she’s got five bad things that exist only in her own mind.”

Esme sighs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Tyler is either completely blind, or totally biased. Koen, if your wife asked you if she looked like a mess...and not a hot one...would tell the truth?”

“Telling the truth is the reason I have so many ex wives. But in all fairness, my ex wives WERE messed. Had any of them looked like you, I’d probably still be married and the happiest sonofabitch on the planet. Now tell me…” he slings an arm across her shoulders and pulls her into his side. “...he been treating you right? Because if he hasn’t…”

“He’s been a complete gentleman. Except for the times I don’t want him to be. And those are X rated and not for your precious little ears, so…” she presses a kiss to his cheek, then moves towards the fridge.

“I do not need to know about all the kinky shit you two do. You been keeping him in line? Making sure he pulls his weight? Because you tell me just one bad word, and…”

“He’s been amazing. Even more amazing than usual. Sorry, Koen; I’m not leaving him for you. Not yet anyway.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance?” He grins, then nudges Tyler with his elbow. “You into sharing, mate?”

He scowls. “Fuck you. That’s my wife. What’s wrong with you?”

“Remember that one girl in Melbourne? About twelve years ago? The blond with the big…”

“There’s a woman in the room!” Esme pipes up, and snags a vitamin water from the fridge. “I do not need to hear these things.”

“You didn’t mind sharing her,” Koen points out.

“That was a random at a bar. That…” Tyler nods in Esme’s direction. “...is my wife. The mother of my kids. I don’t share. Not when it comes to her.”

“As much as I’d love to stay down here and listen to raunchy and disturbing stories from my husband’s sexual past, I have a bubble bath calling my name,” Esme says. “And quite frankly, I prefer to pretend he was somewhat innocent and virginal when we met.”

Koen snorts. “There’s been nothing innocent or virginal about him since he was about fourteen.”

She frowns. “I’m ignoring you now. I’m turning my ears off. Because I do not need to hear or know about these things. I’m going to go upstairs and pamper myself and do girly shit and you two can stay down here and talk about your sexual conquests. But I swear to God, if my ears start to burn, I will beat the hell out of both of you.”

“I would never do that,” Tyler assured her. “Talk about you like that.”

“He lies,” Koen speaks up. “He talks about you like that all the time. The things I know about you…”

“Fuck off,” Tyler snarls. “I’ve never talked about her like that with you. That’s wishful thinking on your part.”

“I’m just warning you both.” She places a hand on her husband’s hip, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down to press a soft, brief kiss to her lips. “I am in no mood for fuckery.”

“What are you in the mood for?” Koen quips, the mischievous glitter back in his eyes as he bounces up and down on his heels. “I hear chubby, balding guys can really get shit done.”

Tyler glares at him, then slaps him upside the head. “What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s my wife.”

“Sorry Grandpa Koen,” Esme smirks. “I’m a one man woman.”

“Grandpa Koen?” He feigns insults, a hand clasped over his heart. “That’s harsh. Why do you have to break a bloke’s heart like that?”

She grinning over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs. “Goodnight, boys.”

****

Two hours and a bottle and a half of scotch later, they sit at the kitchen table, reminiscing on days long past. Military missions served together and the camaraderie and the rare laughs and lighthearted moments while overseas. Hiking and camping and hunting trips that they’ve taken -along with Rata- and the handful of times they’d simply packed up and travelled for weeks on end; nothing where they ended up or how they got there. 

He was nineteen when he first met Koen; fresh out of basic training, too cocky for his own good, and in desperate need of an attitude adjustment and real experience to knock the chip off his shoulder. Koen had been a staff sergeant then; already grizzled and combat weary and sick of the ‘little shits’ like Tyler that passed his way; the ones with their heads shoved up their own asses, who thought they were something special for getting through training in one piece. Koen had made it his personal mission to make his life as miserable as possible; treating him lower than dirty in order to rid him of what Koen had called ‘pukey personality’. He’d seen something in that nineteen year old kid; the promise of becoming a damn good soldier. And it had worked; all the physical and mental punishment completely broke him; transitioning him into someone he no longer recognized. It had unknowingly led to the worsening of some things; the toxic masculinity that had been beaten into him thanks to his old man, and a propensity to drink way too heavily. Being that good of a soldier...as nothing more than a killing machine in his eyes...had made him feel invincible; each successful tour leaving him feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof. And had eventually led him to the job and that sick and twisted desire to seek out one suicide mission after another.

“You alright?” Koen asks, as he pours himself another drink. “You got a little quiet on me there.”

“I’m alright,” Tyler confirms, and runs a palm along the side of his glass. It’s only his second of the night. Starting off by promising to pace himself; not wanting to drink too much considering the amount of painkillers -well beyond the prescribed amount- he’s been taking. But he’d quickly realized it was more than that. He simply didn’t enjoy it anymore; all the cravings and the need and the taste for it somehow disappearing since the incident a week and a half ago.

“You sure? Haven’t seen you look THAT serious in a long time. What’s going on?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sounds intense.”

“About as intense as it gets.”

Koen sips his drink. “What’s it about?”

Tyler pushes his glass aside and reaches into the side pocket of his cargo shorts. Pulling out a handwritten letter -two pages long- sealed in an envelope. And he issues a heavy, shaky sigh and offers it to his friend.

Koen’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is this?”

“If anything happens to me, you have to give this to Esme. I need her to read it. She HAS to read it.”

“Fuck you, Tyler,” the older man snarls. “I’m not taking no death letter.”

“You have to. You NEED to. If anything happens to me…”

“Stop talking that shit. I won’t listen to it. I won’t…”

“I need you to fucking do this!” he snaps, then roughly grabs his friend’s hand and shoves the letter into it. “She needs to read it. And I need you to give it to her. You keep it and if anything happens to me, you make sure she gets it. This is important to me, okay? I need her to read it. And I need you to promise me that you’ll make sure she does.”

“Why wait? Why wait until it’s too late? Why not tell her these things now? So she knows. Wouldn’t you rather she knows before? Why the fuck…?”

“She knows. She knows I love her. She knows I love her with everything I am and everything I have. But there’s things in there I can’t say. Or I feel like I can’t say properly. And I NEED her to know those things. If something happens to me, it’s important she knows. I need you to do this.”

Koen downs half of his drink and then stands up, reluctantly sliding the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? The things I don’t fucking do for you. Taking a goddamn death letter.”

“Just promise you’ll give it to her. If I don’t make it out of here, promise me you’ll make sure she gets that. You have no idea how important it is to me.”

“I’ll make sure. What about your kids? They might like something from their daddy. You know...if…”

“I already did something for them. A video. Ovi has it. He’ll make sure they see it. And that Addie will watch when she’s old enough to understand.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell him about the new baby, but mere though of it...the realization that he could leave a pregnant wife behind and there’d be a child he’d never get to see- is just too fucking painful. Ovi knows; he’d made the kid take a vow of secrecy after telling him to make sure all the kids saw the video when they’re old enough. Even the one that’s still inside their mother’s belly.

“Well let’s hope she never has a reason to read it,” Koen says. “And that those kids never have to see that video. You do whatever it takes to get your ass out of there. Alive. And I’ll do whatever I have to on my end to make sure it happens. This isn’t it. It CAN’T be it. Not when you just found all of this. A wife and kids. A family. A REAL goddamn family. This can’t be it.”

“I sure as fuck hope it isn’t.” He doesn’t bother to hold back the tears that manage to escape; hot against his skin as they slip down the sides of his nose and his cheeks. His chest burns and aches. Not the kind of agony that comes with anxiety, but the suffering that comes with heartache and grief and tremendous loss. Not even the swallow of scotch -in an attempt to clear the lump of emotion from his throat- helps, and he places an elbow on the table and his palm against his forehead. Eyes closed as he struggles to keep it together.

“It’s alright,” Koen’s voice is surprisingly quiet and calm, and there’s an audible creak as he leans forward in his hair; hand both heavy and comforting against the back of Tyler’s head. “It’s alright now, son. It’s okay to be like this. You can be this way with me. I got you.”

“If it was just me, I wouldn’t give a shit,” his voice cracks with emotion as the tears continue to fall. “Seven years ago, I wouldn’t have cared if I made it out. But now I have her and I have my kids and I can’t...I can’t leave them. I’m not ready to leave them.”

“No one says you’re going to. It’s not a sure thing. You’re a tough, stubborn bastard.”

“I don’t want to die. I don't want this life to be over. Before her, I was ready. I wanted to die; I wanted all the bullshit to be over. I hated my life and I hated myself and I didn’t fucking care if someone put a bullet in me. And I then I met her and everything changed. I changed. She didn’t look at me like I was a pathetic, cowardly piece of shit and she made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a long time and I never thought I’d feel again. And maybe it was wrong; how things happened, where they happened. But it felt right. For the first time in a long time, something felt right. Something felt good. It felt fucking amazing. And I should have pushed her way. I should have stopped it. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t want to lose her.”

“It was a weird situation maybe,” Koen says. “But it doesn’t mean it was wrong. Look how things turned out. Look at the life you made. Together.”

“I don’t want that life to be over. I don’t want to leave her. Or my kids. I want to grow old and gray with her and I want to see my kids graduate high school and go to college and get married and have kids of their own. I want ALL of that. But I’m fucking terrified none of will happen. That when I left my kids this morning, that was it. That I’ll never see them again. That I won’t even get to see Addie take her first steps or celebrate her first birthday. There’s so much I don’t want to miss and I’m scared I will.”

“I know…” Koen’s fingertips dig into his scalp as he firmly massages it. “...I know…”

“Everything that is good in me is because of her. Because she found it and she brought it out. And she’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. Her and those kids. And I’m not ready to leave them.”

“And you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen. And so will I on my end. I’ve got you. I’ll bust my ass to make sure you get back to your family. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, and uses his elbow to push his friend away. “I hear ya.”

“You good? You get it all out?”

“I think so. I guess I needed to do that; get it out.”

“You’ve been trying to hold it together for her,” Koen reasons, and returns to his seat. “But even guys like you need someone you can fall apart with. And I guess that someone is me; lucky bastard that I am.”

Tyler gives a small laugh, then uses the back of his hand to clear the remaining tears away. “There’s something else.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Esme knows what she has to do; if something happens to me. She knows to take the money and the kids and leave. But I need someone to keep their eye on them. I need someone to make sure they’re okay. No matter where they end up. And I know this a hell of a lot to ask…”

“I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“Wherever they go, I need you to go with them. You don’t have to stay forever. Just until she’s doing alright and the kids are settled and doing okay. And if you could do that for me…”

“I already said I would. I’ll make sure they’re alright. Nothing will happen to them. Not on my watch,”

“But I swear to God, if you even think of making a move on her, I will come back and haunt your ass.”

Koen laughs at that, then reaches across the table to tousle Tyler’s hair. “You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to get out of this. You’re going to walk in there, get shit done, and you’re going to walk back out and go back to your family. And then all of this...all this talk...will have been for nothing.”

“I hope so,” Tyler says, and downs the remains of his drink. “I really fucking hope so.”

****

It’s just past one in the morning when he steps into the master bedroom, moving about it’s darkened confines with the aid of the moonlight. Removing the holster and gun from his hip and placing it in the top drawer of the nightstand, then slipping out of his shorts and t-shirt; tossing both on top of the open duffle bag that sits in front of the closet. And he briefly lingers at the side of the bed, listening to her soft breathing and watching as her body rises and falls with each inhale and exhale. Sound asleep; on her side with her back towards the door. 

The pain in his chest and the knot in his stomach return with a vengeance; those thoughts of possibly never getting those moments with her again. He can’t get it out of his mind; how close he’d been to ending things only to find someone -when he hadn’t expected to- capable of snatching him off that ledge. Seven years. Spent with the person that saved him in every way a person can be saved. Who has proved time and time again that she loves every inch of him; all the good, all the bad, and everything in between. Every imperfection, every scar; both inside and out. Who taught him what it was to love again; to actually laugh and smile. And who has helped him make even more life; selflessly giving up her own body to do it. 

How do you ever tell that person how you feel? Especially when you don’t think there’s words that can even come close to describing it?

Slipping into bed behind her, he presses his front to her back; lips in her hair as he trails his fingertips across her shoulder and slowly down her arm. Over the curve of her elbow and down to her wrist before moving along the top of her hand and then each finger. Memorizing every inch through touch; her skin soft and beautiful. Pressing a kiss to the back of her head when she pushes her fingers through his and tightly squeezes.

“What time is it?” she sleepily inquires.

“It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Just after one.”

“You been drinking?”

“Just had a couple,” he admits, then moves their joined hands down to her stomach. Smiling at the feel of that little bump. It’s smooth and it’s soft and even after four others, it’s incredible. The mere thought that there’s a living being in there. One that he had a hand in making. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn't have had any. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you HAVEN’T drank. That you’ve fought as hard as you have. I wouldn’t have blamed you or thought less of you if you’d slipped. This has been hell on earth.”

“I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I NEVER want to be him again. You deserve better than that. So do our kids.”

“You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Regardless of what you think about yourself sometimes. I knew it the moment I met you; that you weren’t like everyone else. It was in your eyes. There was this softness and this vulnerability and it was unlike anything I’d ever seen in any of the other mercs I’d come in contact with. You were different. I remember the first time we were here, and we’d have those long, serious talks that went into the early hours of the morning and I’d wonder how the hell someone like you ever got mixed up in a world like this.”

“Yeah, well we both know the reason behind that. I didn’t exactly hide it from you.”

“But you could have. And you didn’t. Right off the hop you were so honest and raw and it was...I don’t know it...it was beautiful.”

“Oh fuck...not THAT word.”

“It was, “ she insists. “It WAS beautiful. Because you were just so out there with everything. You didn’t hold anything back. There’s nothing you DIDN’T tell me. You told me about your mom and your dad. Your ex. Austin. You were just so breathtakingly real and honest and it was refreshing. To be with someone like that. Who didn’t try and pretend to be something he wasn’t. It was raw and it was emotional and I SAW you. And you let me see you. That was definitely not just two people using each other for sex. Now, had you just rolled over and gone to sleep…”

He laughs into her hair. “I never wanted THAT.”

“It was surprising. Not the things you told me, but the fact you told me at all. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I didn’t expect that from myself,” Tyler admits.

“Why did you do it? Just open up like that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just trusted you. Guess there was something about you that made me feel comfortable doing it. A lot of what I told you? No one else knows that stuff. Not even Koen. Guess my instincts told me you were good people. Very good people.”

“You thought you could scare me away didn’t you. When you told me about Austin. You thought that would make me think less of you.”

He nods.

“You made a mistake. You were younger and you were scared and you made a bad decision.”

“Worst possible decision.”

“It didn’t even come close to scaring me away. It made my heart hurt for you. And him. But it didn’t make me think less of you. I could never think less of you.”

“So no matter what, you’ll always think the sun shines out of my ass?”

She giggles. “Always.”

He raises his head to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then rests his cheek against hers. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. I hadn’t been sleeping for very long. I’m having a hard time. I miss the kids.”

“So do I. But Koen called and checked up on them for us. Everything’s fine. They’re happy and they’re safe and they haven’t beaten the shit out of each other. Yet.”

“Yet,” she laughs. “That’s the key word. And we both know who the one beating the shit out of people will be.”

“Yep. Your daughter has quite the temper.”

“She’s just my daughter now, is she? And who do you think she gets her temper from?”

“You.”

“Oh bullshit. She’s just like you and you know it. And you’re proud of it, too. Don’t even try and deny it. I know you how much like that fact that she’s your mini me.”

“She’s my baby. My first. Well, my first after...you know…”

“Your miracle baby.”

He smiles and places a kiss to her temple. “Exactly. She’s one that made me a dad again. Never thought in a million years I’d get another chance at that. And then she came along. I mean, you did have a little part to play in all of it.”

“Just a little. I only carried her for nine months. And then what happens? She comes out just like you. Even the nurse in the delivery room had to point it out; how she had your eyes and your nose and your ears and your hair. I was like, well fuck you too then.”

Tyler laughs and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“I remember when the nurse gave her to you and you just tucked her into you and she stopped crying and she just looked up at you with those huge eyes.”

“And I cried.”

“Yeah…” she smiles and tightens her hold on his hand. “...you cried. And it was beautiful. You were so happy that she was finally here. I think it was the happiest I’d ever seen you. It was like all the pain and all your past was just gone and your face was so soft and so perfect. Nothing existed outside of her. And you looked at her like you couldn’t believe she was even real.”

“She was beautiful. She still is.”

“I think at that moment...seeing you with her...I fell so in love with you. Even more than I already was. And it was kind of crazy and scary, because I already loved you a hell of a lot. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone THAT much. Sometimes I still don’t. I’ll watch you with Addie or playing with Declan or helping TJ and Tanner with their homework and I’ll think ‘God, I love him’.”

He grins against her ear. “And you have the nerve to call me sappy?”

“I can’t help it. I’m feeling all sappy and emotional. I think it’s the fact we’re back here. Of all places. It makes me think about us. How we started and where we’ve ended up. All good things. All very good things.”

“I was thinking about when I woke up in the hospital and you were there. How you were the first person I saw and I was so fucking relieved you were there. I didn’t know if you even made it off the bridge. And even if you did, if you’d stick around.”

“Of course I stuck around,” she releases her hold on his hand and rolls over onto her side to face him. “I went to all that trouble to keep you alive. You really think I wouldn’t stick around to see the result of my handiwork?”

“I guess not.” He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose then drapes a leg over her and places a hand on the small of her back.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re worried, aren’t you. About tomorrow. Or today. About me going out there.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You know how you always say you’re not a rookie? Well neither am I.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make me feel any better about it Especially when you have my baby in there.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ve had seven years of learning from the best. And Koen will be with me. He’ll make sure I’m okay.”

“He better. Or it’s his ass.”

“You have to trust me. I’d never do anything to put myself...or this baby...in harm’s way.”

“I do. I do trust you.”

“What if I can’t get the information? What if no one will give me any? Then we’re totally fucked. And not a good, fun way either.”

“If that happens, we go to plan B.”

“You let them know you’re here.”

Tyler nods.

“What’s plan C?””

“There is no plan C.”

“Maybe there should be. So we don’t have to rely on plan B.”

“Baby…” he skims his knuckles up and down her spine. “...we talked about this.”

“I’m allowed to change my mind And I’m changing it. That is NOT a good idea; letting them know you’re here. What ever happened to the element of surprise? It goes a long way. They want to lure you here, but they don’t need to know you’re here.”

“I’ll only go to plan B if you can’t get me information.”

“Okay…” Esme frowns. “...that is a lot of peer pressure. I haven’t done this in awhile. Since before Addie.”

“Addie’s only three months old. It’s not like she’s a year or a couple years.”

“So what? Ten months? Since I did this kind of thing? We found out about her during all of that.”

“Who’s the one that found out where Ovi was?”

“That took me four days.”

“It took Nik a week just to narrow down Dhaka,” he points out.

“Four days is horrible. My track record was way better than that before. Four days is embarrassing.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I should have had it in twenty four hours. Thirty six at the most.”

“I’m kind of glad it took as long as it did. I had a pretty good five days.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that much. It wasn’t a TOTAL failure. But four days? For me? That is shameful.”

“If it makes you feel better, it only took two from the day you showed up on my porch to convince me to sleep with you.”

“Oh, I had to convince you now, did I? You admitted you would have done it the first night had I wanted a booty call.”

“Well then you should be very proud of yourself. It only took you a couple hours to convince me to give it up.”

“Sorry if I don’t feel my ego inflated because you were horny and desperate.”

“Hey, if I’d been desperate, I would have fucked Nik.”

“That…” she scrapes her nails along his jaw and then taps a fingertip against his chin. “... is a very good point actually. I’m glad you held out an extra couple of days. I hope it was worth it.”

“It was SO worth it.”

“I was very impressed. When I see you naked. I had expectations.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You did?”

“I did. Very high ones, actually. You lived up to them. And then some. You definitely fit the old ‘big hands, big feet’ adage. I wanted to see if it was a myth. I quickly found out it was not.”

“You also thought the G spot was a myth.”

“I found out pretty quick that it isn’t. You were really on the ball those five days.”

“Had to leave a lasting impression,” Tyler reasons. “Wanted you to come back for me.”

“You left a lasting impression, alright. One that lasted nine months and weighed eight pounds, three ounces. That’s quite the impression to leave.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. That’s the one good thing...the one amazing thing...that came out of all that bullshit. Besides us.”

“Nice to see you finally admit we’re a good thing,” she teases. “I think we’re pretty amazing. But hey, that’s just my humble opinion.”

“We are. We are pretty amazing.”

“And we’re stronger together than we are apart. You’ve always said that. And that’s why we need to trust each other. With this. We have to trust each other more than we ever have. That’s the only way we’ll get out of here. That we’ll BOTH get out of here.”

He gives a small smile of agreement, then runs his palm up her back and all the way to the nape of her neck; squeezing lightly as he pulls her into a kiss. Long and slow at first; closed mouth upon closed mouth and their bodies brushing against each other. It’s her that takes the first step towards turning it into something more. Fingers pushing into his hair and tightly gripping it; pressing her body against his as her tongue pushes its way past his lips and teeth. Quickly transforming the moment into something much more desperate and needy.

“I want you,” she breathes, her lips finding the side of his neck, teeth scraping against the tattoo and the scar that mars the skin. “I want you and I need you. I need to feel you inside of me.”

He shudders at her words, then leans his weight into her and pushes her onto her back. Her fingers still in his hair and her eyes fluttering closed as his hands and his mouth behind their slow, torturous worship of her body.


	76. Chapter 76

He’s up at the crack of dawn; torn from sleep by throbbing, excruciating pain in his right shoulder and what he’d thought was the baby crying. The latter is nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him; years spent with little ones in the house, body and brain used to their habits and schedules. The former is very real. A cold sweat covering from head to toe and causing nausea to build in his stomach; the burn of bile present in the back of his throat. It’s horrendous; a pained groan erupting from deep within his chest and his eyes tightly screwing shut. His entire body contracts as a defensive mechanism and his breathing hitches and then speeds up; ragged, gasping breaths through parches lips and aching lungs. It burns; a white hot poker stabbing in the right trap and the spreading fire down to the tip of his fingers. He’s spent the last decade -and then some- in pain; the first Dhaka trip and the injuries sustained making the agony more pronounced and near constant. But this...the sweats, the nausea, the tears that prick his eyes and the numbness in his hand...has elevated his suffering to an entirely new -and concerning- level. And he muttered curses through gritted teeth as he scrambles into a sit and reaches across his body with his left arm. Eyes closed and perspiration trickling down his temples and gathered on his forehead and the nape of his neck as his fingers dig and press into the tight, aching muscles.

“What’s wrong?” Esme’s voice is groggy and her eyes heavy lidded as she rolls onto her back and peers up at him. Concern curving her lips and one of her small, warm hands coming to rest against the small of his back. “You alright?”

His eyes are still screwed shut, hand now tightly clasping the trap muscle. “I’m alright.”

“You don’t look or sound alright.” She moves her messy hair out of her face and behind her ears, then pushes herself up into a sit and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Did you fall asleep on it?”

“Yup.”

“Want me to rub it?”

“I want you to go back to sleep. You need to rest.”

“I think I know what my own body needs. This isn’t my first rodeo, remember? I’ve only done this four times before. Do you need pain meds?”

“I don’t know what I need. A new fucking body, maybe. Can you do THAT?”

“I like your body just the way it is.” Placing a kiss on the nape of his neck, she wraps an arm around his waist and rests her head against his back. “It’s a temple; big and beautiful.”

“It’s ancient and crumbling is what it is.”

“It’s beautiful,” she insists, and then presses her fingertips into the middle of the shoulder blade; drawing a string of expletives from his mouth and even more sweat from his pores. “When we get home, you’re getting that looked at. Even if I have to physically drag you to the doctor.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“You can’t go on like this, Tyler. You just can’t. Chronic pain is bad enough. But THIS level of it? You need some kind of relief. You can’t live like this. And you shouldn’t have to.”

“You know I hate going there. To the specialist.”

“I know you’re stubborn as fuck and that you’ll somehow miraculously heal yourself or just learn to live like this. What do you have to be...I don’t know...so YOU.”

“His office is in the hospital,” Tyler reasons. “You know how I feel about hospitals.”

“Do you want to end up in one? Because if you keep putting this off, that’s EXACTLY where you’re going to end up. You’re going to totally fuck your shoulder up and need surgery...massive surgery...and you won’t have a choice when it comes to going into the hospital, will you.”

“Why do you have to be like this?”

“You mean a rational, concerned, and loving wife?”

“I was going to say a pain in my ass, but okay.”

“I love you, insufferable dick. And I want you to be okay. And you are far from being okay.”

“I will go and see the specialist. When...IF...I get home.”

“I’m going to ignore the word ‘if’ because it’s way too early to fight with you. You know how much that pisses me off; when you talk like that.”

“I’m only being realistic.”

“No, you’re being fatalistic and I hate it.” She presses a series of kisses across each of his shoulders and the nape of his neck, then curls both arms around his waist. “Just let me worry about you,” she grumbles. “Let me take care of you. I like doing it; loving on you and taking care of you. Makes me feel useful.”

“You are very useful, trust me.” He reaches back to wrap an arm around her, turning his body sideways and pulling her into him. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” he says, lips against her forehead.

“I was already halfway there,” Esme admits. “I’m so nauseous.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you really are. But I appreciate the apology. I should have brought some of that tea from Mumbai. The one that Tanner's favorite nanny showed you how to make. That stuff worked.”

“I could go downstairs,” Tyler offers. “See what’s in the kitchen. Might get lucky and find something that will help.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I woke up to take care of YOU, remember?”

“I don’t need you taking care of me.”

“I think you do. Sometimes, anyway. And deep down, I think you actually enjoy it. I think you like when you get to stop being hard ass and you let me take care of you.”

“I will admit to it or deny it. And I appreciate you wanting to do it. But I don’t need it. You took care of me seven years ago; enough to last a lifetime.”

“And I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, well right now? You need to take care of yourself and little bean. That’s what’s important.” He presses his lips to her temple, allowing them to linger for several seconds. “That’s ALL that’s important.”

“Little bean and I are fine.”

“I saw you; grabbing your stomach when you were ‘talking’ with your brother.”

“That was nothing. Just mild cramping like I’ve had with all the babies. I’m fine, honest. And if I’m as far along as we think I am, we’re about out of the danger zone. We may even be out of it already. Which means it’s even less likely that something will go wrong. Isn’t that what the doctor said last time? That my body tries to reject it the first trimester?”

“I don’t want to talk about last time. You’ve had two pregnancies since then. Two healthy babies. They both made it safe and sound.”

“Addie was touch and go at first. And she is very tiny.”

“But she’s healthy. All that specialists said so. And she’s tiny like her momma. It was bound to happen; one just like you.”

“I deserve that much, don’t you think? At least one that looks like me?”

“You did.” He winces and groans when he stretches his legs out and then lies back down; pulling her into his arms and tucking her tightly -and protectively- against him. “I’ll even let you have the last one.”

“Oh how generous of you.” She wriggles onto her side, placing her head on his chest and a hand on his side. “You’re willing to give me TWO of your spawn?”

“I don’t want to ever hear you say I never do anything nice for you.”

“You do a lot of nice things for me. I’m lucky. I’m very, very lucky. You’ve made five children in six and a half years a lot easier to deal with.”

“Well you make it awful easy. I honestly couldn’t have picked a better mother for my kids.”

She raises her head to look at him.

“What?”

“I think that is one of the sweetest, most beautiful things you’ve ever said to me. And you’ve said some pretty good ones.”

“It’s true,” he combs his fingers through her hair, pushing them through the dark, silky strands and then settling his hand between his shoulders. “Everything that’s amazing about them came from you. And they’re beautiful and they’re happy and healthy and they’re incredible. And that’s all because of you.”

“I seem to remember you playing a pretty important role in making those children. I sort of needed your cooperation and your DNA.”

“Kinda stops there. Sometimes I think that’s all I’ve given.”

“You’re kidding, right? You have given so much more than you. Both the kids and I think that. You’re an amazing dad. Look how much they love how; how much they idolize you. Think of all the things you’ve done with them and FOR them. And I’m not just talking about regular dad stuff; dirty diapers and late night feedings and walking the floor for hours with colicky babies and making school lunches and getting them on the bus. I mean all the OTHER stuff. Who’s the one that gets up every Saturday morning to watch the sunrise with Millie and then spends the whole morning and early afternoon with her? Who’s the one that’s been teaching her and the twins to surf? Who rough houses with Declan and gives Addie baths in the kitchen sink?”

“That’s just normal dad stuff. Any dad would do all that.”

“No. They wouldn’t. Not every dad devotes nearly every waking moment he has to his children. And you do. When you’re home, they’re your entire world. You make the time and you make the effort and you don’t let anything or anyone stand in your way. You’re an incredible dad and I wish you gave yourself credit for it. Our kids adore you. I adore you.”

“Yeah?” he grins and pecks her lips. “I kinda adore you too.”

“We’ve come a long way from that apartment in Sydney,” she muses. “I remember being so scared when we brought Millie home. It was so real all of sudden; we went from a two person family to three. She was suddenly there and it terrified me. And you were so calm and so good with her. With BOTH of us.”

“I think you cried more than she did.”

“I was so frustrated! She wouldn’t settle for me and I thought she hated me. My own baby.”

“She didn’t hate you. She just liked me better,” he teases.

Esme frowns and playfully bites his shoulder. “And she still does! It’s all about daddy. Daddy is the one true love of her life and her entire universe revolves around you. Imagine what she’s going to be like as a teenager?”

“I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Tall and thin and beautiful. All the boys will be after her.”

Tyler scowls. “Why do you have to say things like that?”

“You can bury your head in the sand all you want. She’s going to be so beautiful and so popular. She is going to turn a lot of heads.”

“I’ll bust a lot of heads.”

“I think she’ll be more than capable of doing that herself. She’s only six and she’s so strong! And I’m not talking just physically. Her whole personality is so vibrant and strong. And she’s so confident and she takes no shit. If she carries that into her teen years? You won’t have to worry about guys getting too ‘handsy’. She’ll break some faces.”

“I’m still going to worry. She’s my baby. My little girl. My little sea monkey.”

Esme grins. “You haven’t called her that in so long. I wonder if she even remembers it. You’ll have to call her that and wait for her reaction. I remember when you first called her that.”

“First time we ever took her to the beach,” he smiles. “She was what? A couple weeks old?”

“She just turned two weeks. And she’d the cutest little bathing suit; bubblegum pink with white polka dots and frills on the bum. Remember her little hat? It had flamingos on it.”

“I actually DO remember that.”

“You were the proudest dad on the beach,” Esme recalls. “You were the proudest dad ANYWHERE. You were so pleased with yourself’; that you’d created this beautiful, tiny little human. I remember your goofy grin; it started when I was pregnant and you get that grin every time you touched my stomach or someone asked you about the baby. And you’ve been like that with every single one.”

“That’s ‘cause I am proud of myself. I’ve made some pretty damn good looking kids.”

“Yes, you definitely have. And I remember that day on the beach. It’s the most social I’ve ever seen you; showing her off to everybody. And you took her in the water and she wasn’t even scared. Even at that age she knew; daddy would never let anything happen to her.”

“She loved the water. Even then. I knew right away I had my surfing buddy. My little sea monkey.”

“Weird how those memories just pop up. How you think about them out of nowhere. Earlier I was thinking about when we did the twins’ cake smash and TJ buried his whole head in it.”

Tyler laughs at that. “That shit was everywhere. He had blue icing and vanilla cake up his nose and in his ears. He was covered in it.”

“And you joked about using the power washer to get him clean and my mom took you seriously and flipped out and threatened to call CPS on us. She went batshit insane.”

“She IS batshit insane.”

Esme sighs. “Was there anything good that happened there? In Colorado?”

“I delivered Declan in our living room. Never thought I’d add THAT to my resume.”

“I never thought in a million years that I’d give birth in my own home, never mind have my mercenary husband deliver the baby. And it would be the biggest one too! He would be the natural birth. The over ten pounder! It couldn’t have been teeny little Addie. It had to be Declan. With his huge head and shoulders.”

“I was so proud of you. I mean, I’m proud of you every time. But that? That was fucking amazing.”

“I don’t think my body ever recovered from it. That kid was a tank even then. Imagine HIM as a teenager?”

“He’s going to be a big bastard. We should put in every sport we can think of. He’ll crush everyone.”

“I don’t know if that’s his personality. He’s big, but he’s so sweet and cute and affectionate. Reminds me of someone else I know.”

He lightly and playfully tugs at her hair, pulling her head back and kissing the end of her nose. “Don’t you start with that.”

“I don’t care what you say or how much you argue with me. You ARE sweet and you are cute and you are affectionate. You had to learn how to be; how to give it and receive it. But you honestly give the best hugs ever.”

“Ever?”

“How can you not? Have you seen the size of your arms? They are amazing and they FEEL amazing. And you’re a pretty good kisser, too.”

“Just pretty good?”

“Listen buddy, I’m not in charge of stroking your ego. Stroking other things, but not your ego.”

He grins. “You stroke other things very well.”

“You’ve yet to complain and it’s been almost seven years.”

“I have no reason to complain, believe.”

“You know…” she muses, as her fingertips softly and lazily traces the tattoo that covers his ribs. She knows then all by heart; every stitch of ink, every scar, every imperfection. “...you’ve been a really good sport these last seven years?”

“How you figure?”

“You’ve managed to somehow put up with me. With all of my bullshit.”

“Your bullshit nowhere measures up to mine.” 

She flips over onto her stomach; fingers abandoning the tattoo in favour of exploring his ab muscles and the cut of his hips. “You think there is? Bullshit.”

“Is this a trick question? Is it one of those questions where no matter what I say, I end up on your shit list? Like when you ask me if you look fat in something?”

“I want to know. What kind of bullshit do I bring?”

“Is this going to lead to divorce? Because I really don't want a divorce. I kind of like being married to you.”

“Look, I already admit I bring bullshit. I just want to know if we’re on the same page or not. I promise you, I will not get upset. This is not a trick question. This is us having a mature and calm conversation.”

“I’m still scared.”

“Get your shit together!” she playfully scolds, and presses a kiss to her chin. “Just tell me. I will get mad. This is just us having a rational talk.”

“Baby, when you’re pregnant? There’s nothing rational about you.”

“Tyler James…”

“Esme Michelle…”

She gives a dramatic gasp. “You haven’t called me that since we got married!”

“That’s how you know I’m being serious. Like when you get pissed at the kids and use their middle names.”

“If I tell you what my bullshit is, will you agree or disagree?”

“I might…”

“I promise I won’t get upset. You don’t get upset when I call you out on your bullshit, do you? So if I call myself out…”

“Fine,” Tyler sighs. “I’ll play along.”

“Well for starters, I when we first hooked up...and I mean we started living together and playing house...I know I had the bad habit of comparing you to Mark. Well not really comparing, more like worrying and fearing that you were going to turn out just like him. Even though rationally I knew you wouldn’t, I was still scared it would happen. And I tried pushing you away, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I guess I was trying to protect myself. And you hung in there; no matter how hard I made it for you.”

“I loved you,” he reasons, and gently pushes his hand through her hair, fingers slowly slipping through her before his hand comes to rest in the middle of her back. “Why wouldn’t I hang in there? I’d been running from hard shit all my life and suddenly had the one thing I didn’t want to run from. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“And I know sometimes I still do. Bring him up. And I don’t mean to and I’m not doing it to hurt you and I’m not comparing you to him. There is no comparison. Just some habits die hard and I can’t just let go of. Yet you put up with it. For some reason.”

“I’m not the guy who takes off any more. No matter how bad things get it. And they’ve gotten pretty fucking bad.”

“But we work through it all. Even if sometimes giving up would be the easiest thing to do. We work at it. And believe me, my life would totally suck without you in it. I’d miss you way too much; you’re too big of a piece of my world ever lose you from it. So I’m sorry; for being an insufferable bitch sometimes. For worrying too much and stressing too much and basically just being a pain in your ass. And maybe it’s actually the kids you stick around for, but…”

“Baby, I’m not just ‘sticking around’. I’m in this for the long haul. Because I love you and I’d be pretty fucking lost without you. And THAT’S why I worry. Because I can’t do this without you. This life. There is no life if you’re not in it.”

“You’d have the kids. You’d have to keep going for them. Because you’re their daddy and they need their daddy. Especially if they don’t have a mom.”

“We’re not even going to consider that.” He presses a kiss to her brow, then lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his chest. Eyes closed as he lightly massages her scalp, the fingers of the other hand skimming up and down her back. He doesn’t even want to consider it; that she’ll be the one that doesn’t make it. As hard as the kids would grieve over losing him, it would be far worse if they lost her. She’s the one that’s been with them the most; single handedly caring for them during his frequent and often prolonged absences. The one that carried them for all those months inside of her; sacrificing her own body -and sometimes even her sanity[ to nurture them and protect them and help them grow. Her role in their lives surpassing his.

“You should take a shower,” Esme says, her hand combing through his damp hair. “You got pretty sweaty. Are you feeling any better?”

“It’s almost gone now.” It’s a lie. The ache...the burn...it’s still very much alive.

“Let’s go take a shower,” she suggests. “It’s a pretty awesome one. It’s massive and it’s got five shower heads and benches to sit on. We could have a lot of fun in that shower.”

“Are you trying to drop hints?”

“Maybe,” she places a line of kisses along the scar near his left shoulder. “Is it working?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It’s working.”

****

It’s seven in the morning when he finds Koen in the kitchen Standing at the stove in just a pair of tattered old sweat as he prepares breakfast; an overly generous amount of eggs and bacon and already buttered toast. And despite the hint of nausea that lingers, he finds his stomach grumbling. Stress and worry has seen him eating very little over the last three days, and the smell of the food cooking and freshly brewed coffee is highly appealing. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Tyler comments, as he snags a mug from the cupboard by the sink and moves towards the coffee maker, pausing to grab a bottle of prescription meds -one of four- from their resting place on the counter. “Can’t imagine why your wives left such a stunner like you.”

“Well we can’t all be beauty queens like you, blue eyes. I’d ask what happened to you…” Koen eyes him up and down, smirking at the deep, red fingernail gouges that crisscross his back and cover his ribs. “...but judging the noises last night AND this morning, it’s pretty obvious.”

“Gotta set an example, yeah? Teach you how you should be treating and pleasing your women.”

“You can wipe that shit eatin’ grin off your face. No need to rub it even further; I’m already jealous enough. Why you have to walk around like that? No shirt, pants practically hanging off ya.”

“‘Cause I can. Why? You questioning your sexuality?”

“I already did that when I saw what you were packing down there. Can’t you just put some clothes on? Us mortal men can’t get any lower in our confidence that we already are. And your girl already knows what you look like. So unless you’re trying to impress me…”

“In your wildest and wettest, mate.” Tyler pours himself a cup of coffee, then takes a single sip before setting it on the counter. Twisting open the cap on the pain meds, he dumps half a dozen into his palm. He’d taken four only a couple of hours before; but they’ve done very little to take the edge. “Don’t fucking look at me like that,” he grumbles, then swallows the pills dry.

“I’ll look at you any goddamn way I want,” Koen retorts. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I gotta do to function.”

“You need that many to function?”

“What if I do? Get off of my ass.”

“Doctor tell you to take that much?”

“Fuck the doctor,” Tyler snarls. “I know my own body, okay? I know what it can and it can take a hell of a lot more than what he prescribed.”

Scowling, Koen grabs the bottle off the counter and studies the label. “Dilaudid. That’s some pretty strong shit.”

“Seems pretty mild to me. It’s doing fuck all for the pain.”

“You know this is some hard core stuff, yeah? And you’re taking THAT many?”

Tyler snatches the bottle from his friend’s hand and shoves it into the front pocket of his jeans. “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

“Esme know you’re taking those?”

“Of course she does. And she knows why I’m taking them.”

“Does she know you’re popping them like candy?”

“There’s some things she doesn’t need to know. And that’s one of them. She’s got enough to deal with.”

“So why put more on her? That last thing she needs is you becoming a junkie again.”

“I was not a junkie.”

“Like fuck you weren’t,” Koen growls. “You need rehab for that Oxy shit. And now this? You want to be an addict all over again? Because what I just saw? You’re well on your way.”

“I don’t take that many all the time. Just once in a while; when things are extra bad. And right now, they’re pretty fucking bad. So unless you’re the one going through this, mind your business.”

“I’m just saying…” Koen turns back to the stove. “...you’ve come a long way; beat a lot of demons. Last thing I want is you fucking yourself up. Fucking EVERYTHING up. Do you want to lose your family? Because that’s how you lose your family. Getting hooked on shit like that.”

“Won’t make a difference if I die here, will it.”

Frowning, Koen fills a plate with food and holds it out to him. “I’m going to ignore that. How about shut your fucking mouth by putting some food in it.”

Smirking, he accepts the plates and carries it and his coffee to the table. Visibly wincing when he drops down into one of the chairs.

“Esme’s not coming down?” Koen asks, as he prepares his own plate. “I made enough for the three of us. And then some.”

“She’ll be down later. She’s not feeling well.”

“What happened? You two get a little carried away? You fuck her into a comatose state?”

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you. She’s just not feeling well. She’s nauseous.”

Koen slides into the chair across from him. “Bad nerves? Bit worked up about today?”

“Something like that.”

“Why am I getting the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

“She’s just not feeling well. She’s under a lot of stress. She misses the kids, she’s worried about them, worried about me. You blame her?”

“Always is stressing herself out about your sorry ass. There’s something else going on, though. Something more serious. You’re always protective of her, but you’re even more so all of a sudden. I noticed it last night; you’re totally on edge and you’re watching every little move she makes like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.”

“I worry, okay? I worry about her. I’ve got reasons to worry. I’ve got five little kids that need their mother. And if anything happens to her…”

“It won’t. Not on my watch.”

“Better not. Because if anything does, I will beat the ever loving shit out of you. Something happens to her when she’s with you. I will fucking kill you. I’m not even joking.”

“Easy, mate, easy. No need to get that wound up. I won’t let anything happen to her. I won’t anyone ruffle even one single hair on her head.”

“You better hope not. ‘Cause you’ll see a side of me you’ll wish you never had.”

Koen nods in understanding, then takes a swig of coffee before both men dig into their breakfast. No more conversation; a subtle tension hanging in the air, accompanied by the scraping and tapping of cutlery against porcelain. And after several minutes, Tyler swallows a mouthful of piping out brew and sighs heavily.

“She’s pregnant.”

Koen stares at him, eyes slowly widening, fork pressed against his lips.

“We don’t know how far along. Can’t be any more than ten weeks.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s why she’s not feeling well. She’s been pretty sick; all hours of the day. She hasn’t had one yet that hasn’t made her sick all the way through.”

“You’re NOT joking?”

“We decided we wanted another one. But we didn’t think it would happen THIS soon. And really, it should have happened at all.”

“I thought you got things taken care of? The old snip.”

“I did. So either the doctor fucked up or he was telling the truth when he said there was still a chance of it happening and we should be careful for a few months. Which, obviously, we weren’t.”

“Jesus Christ! Are you being serious right now? You’re not just yanking my chain?”

“Do I look like I’m joking? Do I sound like I’m joking?”

“For fuck sakes, mate! What is wrong with you two?”

“There’s nothing wrong with us. We’re married. We wanted a big family.”

Four was a big family. Then you added the little princess. Five wasn’t enough? What the fuck…?”

“What the hell does it matter to you how many kids we have? We have the money to take care of all of them. Especially now. And I didn’t tell so you could get on my ass about it. It happened. It is what it is.”

“Some fucking timing you two have. Out of all the time to find this out…”

“It can’t be any worse than knocking her up with Millie the first time here. Nothing can beat that.”

“I remember when you said little red was the last one. And then Addie. So what the hell?”

“She’s pregnant. We’re having a baby. And that’s why you better make sure you watch her ass. Because if something happens to her...to THEM...I will fucking hurt you. I won’t even think twice about it. You take her out there and you bring her back in one piece. Because that is my wife. The mother of my kids. My entire fucking world. And if anything happens to her…”

Koen directs a kick to his sun under the table when Esme appears on the stairs, pulling her damp hair away from her face and securing it with an elastic band that dangles from her teeth. And she pauses at the bottom landing when she notices him intently watching her.

“What?” she asks.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he cheerful greets. “I’d ask if you slept good, but I don’t think you got much rest. Not based on the racket you two were making.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Did your virginal ears not like hearing that?” she teases, making her way to the stove; a hand against her stomach and a grimace on her face as the sigh and sleep of the food makes her queasy.

“Go sit down,” Tyler gently urges, as he sidles up beside her; curling an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll get you something.”

“Baby, I can get my own.’

“I know. But maybe I want to do it for you. Humour me, please?”

Smiling, she stands on her tip toes as he leans down to kiss her, then snags a piece of toast from the heaping plate on the counter.

“Now what?” she inquires with a laugh, as she joins Koen at the table. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

“You got him just spoiling your ass, don’t ya?”

“I do. And you know why? Because he loves me and wants me to be happy. And one day, you’ll find a woman you feel that way about. Someone you’ll want to spoil and wait on hand and foot.”

“Not bloody likely!”

“In the very least, you’ll learn a lot by listening to us. About how to please a lady.”

“Excuse the hell out of you! I have no problem in that area!”

“Your own two hands are NOT considered ladies,” Tyler informs him. “Whether you name them or not.”

Koen scowls and shoots him a middle finger. “So tell me…” he leans forward in his chair, regarding Esme seriously. “...are the noises for real? Or are you just stroking his ego?”

“I don’t stroke egos. Other things, but not egos.”

“There’s no way they’re real. No way.”

“Listen, just because you’ve never gotten that response from a woman, doesn’t mean it’s bullshit. I don’t fake. Ever. At least not with him. Those noises are as real as real can get. And before you ask, I’m not telling you what he does to get that kind of response from me. Don’t be creepy.”

“Creepy’s his middle name,” Tyler says, as he sets a plate of food and a mug of tea down in front of his wife; dropping a kiss on the top of her head before returning to his chair.

“You’ve got some skills, I’ll give you that,” Koen grins at him. “You DO know how to keep the little lady happy. I’m impressed with you.”

“His skills ARE impressive,” Esme sips her tea. “Very impressive. And why do you keep staring at me, Grandpa Koen? You’re freaking me out. Did the noises bother you that bad?”

“A little birdie told me something interesting about you.”

“They did, did they? Let me guess; the little birdie isn’t that little. More like six three, two forty?”

“I’m innocent,” Tyler informs her, and finishes off the remains of his coffee.

“You have guilt written all over your face. What did you do?”

“Heard that blue eyes here isn’t shooting blanks after all. That he’s put a wee bun in the oven.”

Esme stares pointedly at her husband. “You told him? I thought we weren’t telling anyone until we got home?”

“He threatened to beat it out of me.”

Koen snorts. “I did no such thing.”

“I told him you weren’t feeling well, he took it from there. He was worried about you so I just put his mind at ease. That’s it.”

“Which it didn’t do,” Koen laments. “It did not put my mind at ease. Not in the slightest. Are you sure it’s smart? You going out there? In your delicate condition?”

“My delicate condition?” Esme laughs. “What is this? The forties still? I’m not in a delicate condition. I’m having a baby. Which I’ve done a few times before. You both need to relax. I’m fine. I’m going out there to ask questions and get information. What could go wrong?”

Tyler smirks. “You just have had to put that out into the universe, didn’t you.”

“So now I feel like a bodyguard for two,” Koen frowns. “No pressure, right?”

“All you gotta do is follow her around and try to look intimidating,” Tyler says. “Keep your mouth shut and let her do the talking.”

“Which Tyler failed miserably at seven years ago,” Esme takes a bite out of her toast. “Because he hates not having control. It drove him insane. He was so bossy. And miserable. He tried to choke me.”

Koen’s eyes widen.

“I did not try and choke her,” Tyler argues.

“He was all pissed off and ragey,” she continues. “So he had a meltdown and grabbed me by the throat. Does that not qualify as choking?”

“You liked it,” Tyler reminds her.

“In the end I did.”

Koen scowls. “I do not need to know this stuff. I don’t care how kinky you all are, but it doesn’t mean I want to hear about it!”

“All you have to make sure of, is that you don’t blow it for me,” Esme tells him. “Stay quiet. Let me handle people. Because if you say something that gives us away..”

“You’re just there to make sure she’s okay,” Tyler adds. “And you better make sure she’s okay. ‘Cause if she gets back here with even one scratch on her, I’ll have your ass. I don’t care how long we’ve been there.”

“Tyler’s very protective,” she says. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

“Tyler has a reason to be,” her husband retorts.

“Just let me do my job,” she addresses Koen. “Don’t say anything, don’t get in the way, don’t jeopardize anything. You don’t fuck things up, we get out of there in one piece. You say something or do something that gives away who we really are….”

“All of Dhaka will come down on you,” Tyler finishes. “And you won’t get out of there. And she NEEDS to get out. I don’t care how you do. Just make it happen.”


	77. Chapter 77

“Easiest way to do this is to park on the east side of the Sultana Kamal Bridge,” Esme instructs, face emotionless and eyes riveted on the road in front of them. 

The closer they get to the city center, the more powerful the anxiety grows; gnawing at her stomach and tying it into knots and painfully tightening her chest. The mere thought of being in Bangladesh itself has been nerve wracking enough, but being minutes from the downtown core and from the single most traumatic event of her life has her body and mind rebelling. Incessant nausea accompanied by a pounding headache; her heart thundering in her chest and sweat gathering at her temples and along the nape of her neck. She feels light headed and repeatedly wrings her perspiration slicked hands together and bounces her leg up and down. The beginning of the ride had been tolerable, but when weather beaten high rises and smaller, derelict apartments began to appear on the horizon, the situation became far too real. It’s terrifying and puts her already frazzled nerves on high alert, and there’s nothing she wants more than to tell Koen to stop and turn around; go back to the house and get someone else to do the dirty work. To find a way back to Mumbai and her children; wait the situation out and hope and pray that they can go home sooner rather than later. But it isn’t that easy. She can’t simply walk away and wash her hands of it. Not when Neysa and Aarev are being held captive and especially not when her own family is being threatened. There’s not a single escape that doesn’t involve going directly into town. And unfortunately, the quickest way in -and out- is over that bridge.

“You sure about that?” Koen asks, a frown curving his lips. “Doesn’t seem easy. Or smart for that matter.”

“It’s way too crowded right downtown,” she reasons. “Especially at this time of the day. This is prime market hours. I’ve been here; I know what the streets are like and I know they’re crowded and damn near impossible to navigate in a car.”

“And if shit goes down, we have a hell of a long way back to our ride,” he informs her.

“If shit goes down, it won’t matter where we’re parked. Thirty inches away, thirty feet, thirty yards, thirty miles. If something goes wrong, we won’t make it back to the car no matter how close it is.”

“So how do we get back? If something does fuck up?”

“We don’t. At least not until nightfall. We find somewhere safe to hunker down until things have calmed and we can start moving again. And that’s IF we get that far. You do realize what will happen to us if we’re caught, right? If Asif’s people catch on or the cops figure out we’re connected to Tyler? Chances are, we won’t survive long enough to see the sun go down.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“I know places where we can hide out if we need to. But they’re only good if we can get to them. We have to get into town and be smart and be quick. The longer we’re there, the higher the chance of things going to shit. I learned that the hard way. I don’t want you to learn it too.”

“But if we…”

“You have to listen to me!” Esme snaps, and he blinks at the force in her voice. “I’ve been here before. I know the city and I know the market area and I am telling you that the best thing to do is park on the east side of the bridge. There’s a clearing there; it’s where we got Ovi out. And if you want to get out of this, you’ll learn from my mistakes. Because I made enough of them seven years ago and I don't want to make any now. I have too much to lose and I won’t let you fuck this up!”

Silence descends on the car, and she places an elbow on the ledge of her window and her palm against her forehead. Eyes closed as she battles both increasing nausea and the flood of tears that threaten to escape. It’s all too much; the sunlight glistening of the waters of the Buraganga, the cityscape in the near horizon, the faint outline and expanse of the bridge in the distance, even Amir Asif’s home -still occupied and majestic; looming down river. 

“I’m sorry,” her voice trembles. . “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“That was hardly yelling, kiddo. You’d make a great third wife if you think THAT’S yelling.”

She manages a small laugh. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just stressed and tired and scared. And this baby has me hormonal as fuck already.”

“You know, that last part could have been prevented had you just told him to roll over and go to sleep,” Koen teases, then drops a hand from the steering wheel and lays it on the back of her neck, gently massaging. “It’s okay, sunshine. I get it. I understand.”

“This place...Dhaka...that bridge...it’s nothing but horrible memories and a lot of suffering and a lot of trauma and nightmares and bullshit. I do NOT want to be here. I don’t even want to be in Bangladesh. Or Mumbai. I just want to be home; with my husband and my kids and my dogs. I want to wake up in the morning to the sound of the ocean and fall asleep to it at night. And I want to sit on my back porch and watch my kids play and hear them giggle and squeal. And I want to cuddle up to my husband knowing he’s safe and sound and that there’s no one out there that wants to hurt him. That’s all I want. And I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“It’s not. It’s definitely not.”

“I almost lost him to this place once, and I don’t want the second time to be successful. I know I pride myself in being a strong, independent woman, but I can’t lose him. I CAN do this life alone...raise the kids by myself...but I don’t want to. That man is my entire world; he’s my best friend and he’s my lover and he’s my confidant. He’s my ‘person’. And if that makes me weak and pathetic for saying all that, I don’t give a shit. It’s true. I love him in a way I thought I could never love another human being. And I’m not ready to let that go. To let HIM go.”

“It won’t come to that,” Koen assures her. “I’ll see to it. That it doesn’t happen.”

“Tyler showed up at a time in my life when I’d given up on ever trusting a man again. Mark was a terrible person, he destroyed me in every possible way and Tyler came along and he picked up those pieces and put them back together and he never once complained about it. He just did it. In his own way. He always talks about how I saved him, but he doesn’t realize he did the same thing for me. That he saved me in every possible way a person can be saved. If I'd never met him, I probably wouldn’t even be here. Because I was just as much of a mess as he was and just as ready to give up on everything.”

“I never realized it was that bad. That YOU were that bad.”

“There’s a lot of things people don’t know. That only Tyler knows. But believe me when I say that I was broken and I was lost and he found me. We found EACH OTHER. And he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care how cliche it sounds or who hears me say it. It’s the truth. And I didn’t let Mahajan or Asif’s people take him from me. I didn’t let them the first time, and I won’t let it happen this time either.”

“You’re a tough little shit," Koen praises. “You know that?”

“A tough little shit bawling like a baby in front of you? Yeah, that screams tough.” She uses the backs of her hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t tell Tyler I got like this, okay? He worries enough. He doesn’t need to know about my mental breakdown.”

“Your secret is safe with me, kiddo. But I’m afraid I have some things to say that might make you cry some more.”

“”Oh great! Just what I need; looking like a wreck on the job.”

“Now this is all between me and you, because we both know how embarrassed he gets about feelings and emotions and all of that crap. Just between us, yeah?”

Esme nods.

“First, I have to start off by letting you know that he is wildly and crazily, head over heels, in love with you. More than he thinks he could ever possibly tell you. So if he doesn’t say it a lot, just know he’s feeling it. That every time he looks at you, he sees his entire world in front of him. The most beautiful, incredible woman on the planet.”

“He told you that? That came out of his mouth? Was he drunk?”

“Stone cold sober. He does say things WHILE he’s drunk, but those are triple x rated, so…”

Esme laughs. “Of course they are.”

“He is terrified of losing you. Right scared shitless. And he isn’t scared of much and he certainly doesn’t admit what he IS scared of. He doesn't want to do this life without you, and he’s pretty convinced he wouldn’t be able to. I’ve seen women come and go out of his life; mostly one night stands or girls in different places he could go to for getting his rocks off.”

“Nik?”

“Nik meant nothing. He’s not lying when he says that. There wasn’t anything there; at least not for him. And I knew his ex. Sarah. Spent some time with her.”

“”Yeah, I had the pleasure of meeting her. When they shipped him from the hospital here to the one in Sydney. That was a...pleasant...experience.”

“He thought he was in love with her. High school sweetheart, mother of his first kid. She treated him like complete shit and they’re both at fault for how that whole thing ended up. But when you came along? When I first met you at the hospital and I talked to him about you? I could tell you were different. That what he was FEELING was different. And I saw how he looked at you; how his whole face just lit up when you walked into the room. The way he’d smile at you and how the whole tone of his voice would change when he talked to you. He had it bad even then; I could tell.”

“Maybe he was still caught in the afterglow of those five days.”

“It was more than that. We all knew it. And I’ve known Tyler a long time; I’ve seen him at his worst. And when you came along, I could see how badly he wanted to change. How much he wanted to be the man you needed him to be. That you deserved. And he worked at it. He STILL works at it. You could have easily walked away after Dhaka. Even with a baby in your belly.”

“I didn’t want to walk away.” Esme says. “I wanted to be with him. I wanted to see if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made something so amazing.”

“No way he was letting you go. He knew he had a good thing. He wasn’t going to fuck that up.”

“We were both a mess. And somehow we’ve managed to not make an even bigger one and not totally screw up our children.”

“Those kids are incredible. They’re beautiful. The best of both of you. And they’re here because you looked past just how messed up their daddy was and you saw the potential in him. He was screwed up, but you still managed to see he was a good person...a good man...under all that. And you gave him a chance. To prove that he mattered. That his life meant something.”

“His life has always meant something to me. And it means everything to his kids. He’s our entire existence. He’s the one that keeps it all together when it feels like it’s falling apart. And it WILL fall apart; if something happens to him. If he doesn’t make it out of here…”

“He will,” Koen insists. “I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure he gets out and gets back to you and those littles. I promise.”

She gives a small, hopeful smile.

“And thank you. For taking care of him like you do. For giving him this life. And for loving him like you do.”

“Your voice…” her voice cracks once more. “...you are going to make me cry again..”

“Some things just need to be said,” he reasons, and runs a palm over the top of her head and down her hair. “Just in case.”

****

“We have a problem.”

It’s difficult to make out what she’s saying; a mixture of poor signal and the near deafening sound of vehicle horns blasting and impatient, flustered yelling of people gathered around her. But there’s no mistaking THAT tone of voice. Fear and worry and a whole lot of anxiety. He had just managed to fall asleep -a combination of pure mental exhaustion and another handful of meds- when the phone rang; startling him awake and leaning him disoriented and lightheaded. The extra dose of dilaudid making his head spinning; drowsy despite the nap and sweat beading across his forehead and the back of his neck. And he grimaces as he sits up on the couch, wincing as he stretches his legs out in front of him and then reaches across his body to rub his shoulder. All those drugs and it STILL persists; that dull, incessant throb deep within the joint and the numbness in his hand.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“We parked on the south side of the Sultana Kamal bridge. I figured it was easier to walk in then deal with the traffic and the crowds around the market.”

“Good thinking.” he praises. “Definitely the best way to go. What's the problem?”

“They’ve locked the bridge down. All of the bridges, apparently. They’re not letting anyone through without showing proper ID.”

“You got it, yeah? The one Anil got for you?”

“I do. But that’s not the point. If they’re doing this, they know you’re here. How the hell would they know? We were so careful; coming from the airport. How do they know you’re here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Someone is feeding these people information. Someone inside. You need to call Anil and let him what’s going on; tell him he needs to figure this out. How are you supposed to do an extraction if you can’t even get into the city? They will kill you on sight, Tyler.”

“I’ll have to figure that out. Is it just the cops?”

“Military too. This is some serious fucking deja vu. As if being on this bridge isn’t bad enough…”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Esme admits. “They have pictures of my husband that they’re comparing to everyone that walks or drives across. So no; I’m not okay.”

“I need you to stay calm. I need you to get over the bridge, get shit done, and get back here safe and sound. I know it sucks; being there on the bridge. But I need you to stay calm. If they see you freaking out, they’ll know something is up. So I need you to settle down.”

“What do we do? If we can’t get out? What do you want us to do? If they lock the city down completely?”

“You call me. You call me and I’ll come and get you. You find somewhere to hide you and I will find a way to get there and get you out.”

“They’ll kill you. If they see you…”

“Better me than you.”

“And if we get caught?”

“Don’t fight them. Let them take you. You fight, they’ll make it worse on you. And if that happens...IF you get caught...I still come get you. Right now, I need you to just relax and get shit done, okay? In and out. No mistakes. Not a single fucking one.”

She gives an uneasy laugh. “No pressure, right?”

“You’ll be alright. You’ve got this. You’ve done this kind of thing hundreds of times.”

“Not when there’s so much at stake, I haven’t. I feel sick. Like really sick.”

“You’re working yourself up. Just try and stay calm. I wish I was there with you; I wish I was the one keeping an eye on you.”

“I wish that too. I’d feel a lot better about all of this if you were here.”

“And it should be me. With you.”

“Koen has things under control. I trust him. Not in the same way I trust or as hard and as deep as I trust you, but…”

“You’re going to be okay. You run into any trouble, you call me. You call me and I’ll get you out.”

“I love you, Tyler. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. You’ve got this. I know you too.”

“I’ll call if I need to,” she promises, and then disconnects the call. 

Sighing heavily, he tosses his cell onto the coffee table and then leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. It’s his worst nightmare; her out on the street without him to keep an eye on her. As much as he trusts Koen and knows his friend would stop at nothing to keep her safe, he also knows Koen’s limits. He hasn’t been on the job that long, and despite his years in the military, he simply doesn’t have the skill level or the experience that Tyler has. And it's hard as hell. Being able to do nothing but sit back and wait while his entire heart is out there walking around, putting itself in danger.

He feels nauseous, and both his head and his heart pound furiously. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his chin to his chest; attempting to steady himself -and his nerves- with long, slow intakes of breath through constricted lungs. It’s the start of a panic attack; he recognizes the fast, irregular heartbeat and the twisting and knotting in his chest and stomach, the perspiration that dampens his hairline. All he can think of is the worst case scenario; Asif’s people grabbing her and spending days...even weeks...making her beg for mercy and eventually death. Doing disgusting and horrendous things to her; abusing her in ways that will make his nightmares seem tame. And they’ll make sure he witnesses it; whether it be through photographs or videos or even forcing her to call him.

His eyes snap open as he reaches for his cell phone; prepared to call Anil and let him know of the hurdles awaiting him in the city center. Pausing when his eyes fall on the bottle of meds sitting nearby. He’s already tripled the recommended daily dose and it’s not even past noon. But there’s no denying the pain; the throbbing in his shoulder and knee and the gnawing in his stomach. And his hands violently tremble as he reaches for the bottle, resorting to using his teeth to twist off the cap. Feeling shame and guilt as he lets four pills drop into his mouth and then swallows them dry.

****

“Something’s not right,” Esme says, as she drops her cell phone into her bag. 

The heat is stifling and the humidity nearly unbearable; the Dhaka sun bright and punishing as it beats down on the pedestrians crammed shoulder to shoulder on the bridge. She refuses to acknowledge her surroundings. Choosing to walk along the curb as opposed to near the railing; keeping her eyes straight ahead and never looking down at the ground or out at the river. It’s still too hard; the memories still so fresh and vivid. Easily able to recall the exact spot in the cracked and dirty sidewalk when he’d been dying in her arms and she’d resorted to sticking her fingers in his neck to save his life. She can still hear the staccato of gunfire and the cries of the wounded and dying and smell spent lead and spilt gasoline. Still able to see the burnt out shells of cars and trucks and mangled, bloody bodies.

“There’s nothing right about any of this,” Koen grumbles, a hand resting protectively on the small of her back, keeping her half a step in front of him as they make their way to the checkpoint.

“That’s true. But I meant with Tyler. Something isn’t right with him.”

“He seemed fine this morning.”

“He is FAR from fine. Things have gotten so much worse since the night he was jumped. The pain is intense and he’s suffering more and more and I don’t know what else I can do for him, other than forcing him to go to the doctor when we get home.”

“Just keep loving on him like you do and taking care of him. I know he appreciates it; Even if he won’t admit. And Lord knows he’s stressed and he’s worried and he’s got a lot on his mind. Makes sense he’s not himself.”

“It’s more than that. He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded...off. He didn’t sound like Tyler. I KNOW his voice; I know its changes and all the different ways it can sound depending on his mood. And that? I haven’t heard that Tyler in a long time. Since our battle trying to beat Oxy. He almost sounds like he’s on it; he’s groggy and just out of it and his accent is even thicker. It’s hard to explain.”

“He was probably napping. You probably woke him up.”

“No. I know what he sounds like when he first gets up in the morning or when he wakes with the baby. It wasn’t that. I know it wasn’t. It’s weird, right? That I notice those things? The changes in his voice? That must seem weird to you.”

“He’s your husband; You spend that long with someone, you notice things. Even the smallest of them.”

“How come you didn’t stay married?” she asks. “Why didn’t any of your wives work out?”

“Marriage isn’t for everyone, sunshine. I happen to be one of those who can’t be married AND happy. I just can’t. Can’t be tied down like that. I like not having to answer to anyone. Doing what I want, when I want.’

“But did you love either of them?”

“Love is...subjective.”

“Humour is subjective. Love is love. You either feel it or you don’t. So did you? Love either of them? Tyler said he liked the second one. What was her name? Kim? He said she was really nice; that she seemed crazy about you. How come you didn’t hang onto her?”

“She was friends with Sarah. His ex. So once they split up for good, it kind of made things difficult between Kim and I. I know he fucked up...HUGE…but I also know what she was like. I know she was always cheating on him and doing him wrong. A lot of us didn’t even think the kid was his.”

Esme arches a brow. “Really?”

“We had our doubts. For good reason, too. He’s never told you that?”

“No. I guess he’s never felt a reason to. But knowing Tyler, it wouldn’t have mattered to him if Austin wasn’t really his. He would have loved him and taken care of him anyway.”

“That big heart of his is going to be his downfall one day.”

“Nik doubted Millie. Hell. I think Tyler even doubted Millie when I first got pregnant. Which is understandable.; I totally didn’t blame him for questioning it. But her? Even when Millie was a baby and even a toddler, she tried putting it in his head that Millie wasn’t his.”

“Which is bullshit,” Koen says. “I mean look at the kid and look at the father.”

“Right? She looks just like him! There’s no way he could ever deny her. Nik’s been a thorn in my side since day one. And I just…” she grimaces and lays a hand against her stomach. “...oh god...I feel so sick.”

“It’s the heat,” Koen reasons. “You shouldn’t be standing out in it like this.”

“It’s everything. The heat, the noise, all the people, the smell of the water...” she draws the neck of her t-shirt over her mouth and nose. “...this isn’t good.”

He moves his hand up to the back of her neck, keeping her moving forward. And when they reach the front of the line, he rummages through her bag for her ID and presents it -along with his own- to the police officer manning the checkpoint. 

“Bandha,” the officer orders in Bengali, motioning for Esme to remove the shirt from her face and the ball cap from her head. “Bandha!”

“Now what’s the point of that?” Koen questions. “She’s clearly not the bloke in the picture you got there. She’s clearly not a bloke at all.”

The officer ignores him, pulling a second picture out from underneath the photo of Tyler. A black and white shot of her from the job in Ireland. When she’d sported short, red hair and glasses. And she feels her stomach jump clear into her throat.

“Look, my wife isn’t feeling well,” Koen explains, as he wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her tight into his side. “We just found out a few days ago that we’re having a baby; our first. And she hasn’t been having a good go of it and the sun’s making it worse. It's obvious she’s not a bloke and she’s definitely not the girl in that picture. So unless you want her throwing up all over the place…”

“I really do feel sick,” she whimpers. “I need to get somewhere to puke.”

“I know, honey,” he presses a kiss to her temple. “And I’m sure this nice policeman understands.”

The officer looks towards the nearest colleague -likely a higher ranked officer -for help. And receives a nod to allow them to pass.

“Have you seen them?” The first officer inquires, showing the two pictures in her face.

“Haven’t seen them a day in my life,” Koen says, and quickly whisks her away.

****

“That was way too fucking close!” Esme finally allows herself a sigh of relief three blocks later, and tucks her hair back under her baseball hat. “Why the hell would they have a picture of me?”

“Asif’s people aren’t stupid. If they know Tyler’s in town, they also know he’s not dumb enough to show his hand just yet. Guess they figured he’d send you in his place.”

“This is fucked. Way more than I first thought it was. How do they even know Tyler is here? Nathan made the most sense as the mole; he disappears and then shows up out of the blue, being held captive by them? A week and a half later? That makes no sense. They would have let us know if they had him. They take pride in shit like that.”

“So you don’t think it’s him now?”

“I still don’t trust him. Something IS shady about him. But he wouldn’t know that Tyler is here. So there has to be someone else; someone on the inside. Two moles.”

“That’s reaching, don’t you think?”

“It’s the only way any of this makes sense. Nathan was the one who told Mahajan’s man where Tyler was that night and what areas of his body to target. They knew, Koen; they knew to go after his shoulder, knee, AND back. They even went after his neck; right where he was shot and the surgeon had to repair that vein. They knew. And then Nathan takes off and doesn’t show up until a week and a half later?”

“But they have him,” he argues. “Asif’s people. They have him and they’re fucking him up pretty good.”

“It’s all bullshit. I’m sure of it. And there has to be a way to prove it. Tyler can’t just go in there trusting him. He can’t. There has to be a way to find out Nathan is in on this. We just have to figure out what it is.”

“Whoa...whoa...whoa...you and I don’t need to do shit. We’re doing enough being here.”

“I’m going to ask them to let me see him with my own two eyes. When we find out where he is, I want to go in and see him for myself. I’ll know if he’s lying or not.”

“Are you fucking insane? You can’t go into something like that. That is not your job.”

“If it prevents Tyler from going in and Nathan backstabbing him? I’ll do it.”

“You think he wants you to? You think he wants you to go in there? Put yourself...and that baby...at risk? He’d never allow that.”

“I don’t need his permission.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but this is fucked. This is a horrible idea. Let someone else figure it out. This is not up to you. You’re doing enough. MORE than enough.”

“But if I…”

“No more,” he orders. “I won’t hear of this. Not a single word more. You mention it again, I will tell him. Hear me?”

“I hear you. I wont talk about it again. It was just an idea.”

“A stupid ass idea.”

She rolls her eyes.

“So what are we looking for?” he inquires, a hand on her shoulder as her eyes scour the market.

“It’s not WHAT I’m looking for. It’s WHO I’m looking for. And I’m hoping he’s still here.”

“You want to be a little more specific, or…”

“I met a vendor the first time we were here. He sold handmade jewellery. Tyler got me this…” she holds up her right hand; showing off the simple braided leather and beaded bracelet she sports. “...from him. But he’s way more valuable than just his jewellery. He keeps his ear to the ground. BOTH ears. He was able to find out things for me like that…” she snaps her thumb and index finger together. “...and if he’s still here, I’m hoping he can still help.”

“A lot can change in seven years,” Koen reasons.

“Nothing has changed here. It still looks the same, sounds the same, smells the same. That’s where we stayed,” she nods towards a rundown hotel across the street. “Third floor, second room. The balcony that has the rug hanging over the railing. THAT hasn’t even changed. I bet the toilet is still broken and I bet they haven’t painted the dirty walls or put in a proper shower head. Nothing’s changed; not a goddamn thing.”

For several minutes she searches the market. Attempting to blend in with the other shoppers; making small talk with both buyers and vendors, picking up various objects and studying them, purchasing food items for the safe house and small trinkets that would appeal to the kids. Koen sticks close to her side; hand never leaving the small of her back, never speaking yet offering pleasant smiles and nods in greeting.

“Here! Over here!” she suddenly exclaims, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him behind her. Pausing at a vendor tucked alongside of a busy laundry, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for the owner to finish up with a customer. And she notices the look on the older man’s face when he regards her; his eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side. And she sees the glimmer of recognition. “Do you remember me?” she asks. “I know you’ve seen a lot of people since we met, but…” she removes her head and shakes her hair free. “...do you? When we first met, you commented on my hair. About how long it was and how the sun made the red in it sparkle. Do you remember?”

A bright, wide smile spreads from ear to ear. “My friend!” he gleefully cries, and hurries around the side of the table to warmly embrace her. “You haven’t changed a bit!” He presses a kiss to each cheek. “As beautiful as ever!”

“Thank you. But believe me, I’ve changed a lot. How are you? You look wonderful. Life’s been treating you kind?”

“It’s been fair to me. I can’t complain. Well I could, but no one would listen,” he chuckles. “You’re back! In Dhaka?”

“Just for a few days. For work.”

“And your husband? He is still your husband?”

“He is. He is still hanging in there. We have five kids now.”

“Five children! Big family. Last time I saw you, you just had the one. A little girl.”

“Amelia. Millie. She just turned six. And she’s so smart and so beautiful. She looks just like her daddy. They’re back at the hotel; the kids wanted to go swimming and he offered to stay behind to take them.”

“Good guy that one!”

“Yeah, he is. A very good guy.And this is my brother. Kyle.” She lays a hand on Koen’s shoulder. “The one I told you about.”

“The fireman?”

“That’s me,” Koen smiles, abandoning his accent and shaking the hand offered to him. “Thought I’d keep little sis company.”

“I was wondering if you could help us.” Esme says, and begins admiring and surveying items for sale when she notices curious bystanders watching them intently. “I could really, really, REALLY use your help.”

“With what?”

“I need information. Do you still have an ear to the ground? You still have people you can trust?”

He nods.

“Have you seen the picture floating around? The man everyone is looking for? The mercenary?”

“Looks very much like your husband. I only saw him with a hat on when he was here though. And sunglasses. So I couldn’t say for sure. I didn’t think it was him. A mercenary? That doesn’t seem like a job for someone like him. He was always so friendly and good to me.”

“His name is Tyler Rake. My husband. And he IS a mercenary. Seven years ago, we came here to find a kid that had been taken by Amir Asif.”

“Mahajan’s kid?”

“That’s why we were here. And we found him and everything went to shit. All that trouble on the bridge? That was us. That was ALL us. And I need your help again. And I’m willing to pay. I’m willing to pay VERY well.”

“What do you need?”

“Amir Asif is dead, but in some ways, he’s very much alive. I know he has people trying to avenge him. Carrying on his business. And they've grabbed friends of ours.”

“A woman and a teenage boy,” the vendor says. “And a mercenary.”

“I work for the people that want them back. I need to get word to Asif’s people that I’m in town and I’m ready to negotiate. That I have access to the money they asked for, but I’d rather talk first. And I need proof of life. For all three.”

The vendor nods slowly.

“Can you do it? Get the word out? To the right people?”

“I can.”

“But will you. Will you do that for me?”

“I will.”

“I need it done right away. As soon as I walk away. It’s important it gets done right away.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen and small notebook, tossing open the cover and hastily scribbling her cell number. “Tell them to text first. They text with a number that I or one of my people can call. Tell them we want to talk and start negotiations. ASAP. But nothing will happen unless we see with our own eyes that everyone is alive. That is the only way they’ll get what they want. Tell them I’m in charge. Not them. And that I’ll give them their money, but I’m NOT giving them the man they want. That’s non negotiable and it’s never going to happen.” She tears the paper from the notebook, then removes a hundred dollars from her wallet and hands both to the vendor. “Thank you.”

“This is too much!” he exclaims. “Way too much! You are too generous!”

“You deserve way more than that, believe me. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“At least take something.” he says. “For yourself. Your children. Especially your little girl.”

Selecting three bracelets -for herself, Millie, and Addie-, she slips her hat back onto her head and bids farewell, giving an appreciative smile and a small wave as other customers approach. And she grabs Koen tightly by the hand as they slip into the crowd.

*****

He doesn’t hear the phone until it’s on the second ring, and he hastily rinses the soap and shampoo from his body and hair, leaving the water running as he tosses open the door. Wincing and limping as he hurries across the room and grabs the cell from the ledge of the sink. He’d thought a shower - alternating between ice cold and steaming hot- would help alleviate both the fogginess in his brain and the multitude of aches inhabiting his body. But so far it’s done nothing.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Relief rushes through him at the sound of her voice. Much calmer...brighter...than it was the first time around. “We just got back to the car. It didn’t start out too good though.”

He uses his shoulder to hold his phone to his ear and snags a towel from the back of the door, loosely wrapping it around his waist. “What happened?”

“They had my picture. At the checkpoint.”

“What the fuck..”

“It was an old one. From Ireland. When I had glasses and my hair was red and short. I almost passed out, I swear. And I had my hat on and my shirt over my mouth and nose because the smell of the water was going to make me puke and they were going to make me take both off.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Koen handled it. He told them I was his wife and that it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t the guy or the girl in the pictures. That I was pregnant and feeling sick and unless they wanted me puking everywhere, they’d let me through.”

“And they bought it?”

“Yup. But that was a close call. Way too close. And then I saw Farhad. On the way back across the bridge.”

“Did he see you?”

“No. I pretended I needed to tie my shoe and by the time I stood back up, he was past us already. I swear...when I saw him...I have never been that angry in my entire life. I know he was just a kid when he almost killed you, but I was so fucking angry. He’s out there walking around like nothing ever happened and meanwhile he’s caused so many fucking problems! If you run into him, you better end him once and for all.”

He uses a second towel to vigorously rub at his hair as he heads out into the bedroom. “Esme…”

“I mean it, Tyler. I won’t have peace until he’s dead. He’s not a kid anymore. There’s no reason to spare him now.”

“Baby, that’s revenge.”

“And sometimes revenge is needed. And I need it. I need that peace of mind that I haven’t had in seven years. So if you run into him…”

“What’s the chances of that? That I’ll actually run into him?” He hasn’t told her about Farhad’s involvement in Neysa and Aarav’s capture, or the pain and suffering he’s been inflicting on them. Nothing good will come of that; it will serve only to stoke that already simmering fury and need for revenge that’s been eating away at her for seven years. 

“What’s the chances I’d run into him on the bridge?”

He sighs, then grabs his discarded jeans from the back of the chair by the window. 

“That little bastard is still out there, walking around. Look at the damage he’s caused. To you. To me. To us. He shouldn’t get away with that. He deserves to pay for what he did. HE NEEDS to pay.”

“You’re just working yourself up. That’s the let down from the adrenaline talking. Or the hormones. Maybe a mix of both. In an hour you won’t feel this way.”

“I’ve felt this way for seven years. It’s not just going to go away. Not unless I know he’s gone.”

“We’ll talk about this when you get back. Talk. Not fight. There’s no sense getting into it now. Everything else went okay?”

“I got the word out. I don’t think we’ll have to wait very long.”

“You’re fucking amazing. And I love you. So much.”

“I love you too. I just wanted to let you know that we’re okay. I know you were probably worrying yourself sick. And Koen did a great job. He kept an eye on me; not a single hair on my hair was disturbed.”

“So he lives to see another day.”

“Basically,” she laughs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You definitely will,” he assures her, then presses END on his cell.

****

“That was pretty fucking intense,” Koen declares, as he guns the ignition and peels out of the clearing, leaving a cloud of dirt and dust in his wake.

“Right? I nearly peed myself a couple of times. You saved my ass on that bridge. And you go to live out one of your fantasies. You got me to be your wife for a few minutes.”

“I would have preferred a few minutes of something else, if you know what I mean.”

“Well you’ll have to keep dreaming about THAT. I’m a one man woman. You’ll have to live vicariously through him.”

“Lucky bastard,” Koen grumbles.

“He knows it too. But I’m pretty lucky myself. That’s something I should probably tell him more often. Even hard asses probably like to feel appreciated once in a while.”

“You ask me, you SHOW him how much you appreciate him.”

She smiles at that.

“So that was him? The guy on that bridge. That was Farhad?”

“Yeah,” Esme nods. “That was him. The little prick that shot Tyler in the neck. From behind. A total bitch move.”

“He looks like a little bitch.”

“That kid almost took everything from me before it even started. He’s the reason I can’t let go of that place. The things I saw, the things I had to do? That’s all because of that fucking kid. And I can’t forgive him and I can’t move on; I can’t leave the place behind if he’s still here. I just can’t. What if Tyler did die that day? I would have gone home and found out about Millie and I would have gone through it all by myself. She never would have known her dad. I wouldn’t even have had a picture to show her. All that I would have had was those five days in Dhaka. Those memories of it. That’s it.”

“But he DIDN'T die,” Koen points out. “He made it. Because of you. If you hadn’t stepped up and put your ass on the line…”

“Don’t do that,” she begs. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. I did what I had to do because I felt he deserved to live. And because selfishly, I wanted more time with him. But I don’t deserve praise and I don’t deserve praise for doing something anyone would have done.”

“Not anyone would have done it and you know that. You saved him. And not just on that bridge, either.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with it; people thanking me and praising me and thinking so highly of me. Tyler deserved to live and that’s why I did it. Because he’d more than made up for the mistakes he’d made and he deserved another chance.”

“And not everybody would see it that way, either. Would see HIM that way.”

“Well I saw him that way. I’ll always see him that way. And that’s why I want revenge. For him.”

“You want the kid to die?”

Esme nods. “And if that makes me a bad person, so be it. But it’ll give me peace. I’ll finally be able to let go of this place. I NEED to let go of it.”

“I’ll do it,” Koen offers. “I’ll take care of the kid. For Tyler. For you.”

“You’d do that? For us?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I would.”


	78. Chapter 78

She finds him asleep on the couch when she returns. Clad in just a pair of faded and well worn jeans, his chin tucked to his chest and hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. It’s the most comfortable -and vulnerable- she’s seen him in weeks. No tension in his shoulders and his face softer; all the worry, stress and pent up rage not furrowing his brow or narrowing his eyes or tightening his jaw. He’s at peace; not haunted by the demons and mistakes of his past or all of the violence and gore he’s both witnessed and partaken in. No nightmares of the moment seven years when he’d lay dying on a patch of filthy and cracked cement. His brain not torturing him with horrible visions of his wife and his children being brutalized and murdered. His breath slow and even, his face and body not contorted by pain. And she briefly stands in front of the couch and watches him; seeing so much of the three oldest in him during that quiet, calm moment. The way the ends of those dark, thick lashes skim the tops of his cheeks and a slight pout curves his lips; his hair falling across his forehead and over his eyes. She sees Millie especially. All long limbs and torso and the exact colour and texture of hair. The identical ears and the shape and line of the jaw.

As rough as he is -the embodiment of masculinity with his long frame and broad shoulders and impressive, hard muscles- he IS beautiful. What would lessen the appeal of most men, only adds to his attractiveness. The full, thick beard that appears much darker and coarse than usual, all of the tattoos and scars, the large, strong hands with their battered and damaged knuckles. All the things that others may see as imperfections, she views as beyond perfect; adding together to make him the man that she knows. The one that she’d fallen in love with seven years ago and continues to fall more in love with each passing day. 

She’d always laughed at those who claimed they experienced such a thing -or even dared to believe in it- finding that in her experience, the years -hell, even months- spent with someone made her resent them. She grew bored of the ‘same old, same old’. Easily annoyed by their presence and turned off by their voice and the mere look of their face; disgusted whenever they’d touch her or they’d move in for a kiss or they’d try to instigate something more. But she's quickly learned that her indifference and boredom had been the byproducts of NOT being in love. That she’d simply been infatuated with the thought of someone, not the person themselves. Mark had stripped away every ounce of hope she’d had of ever experiencing the real thing, and she’d vowed to never get that attached again; refusing to trust someone with both her body and her heart. Content -or so she’d thought- with being alone forever and never getting married again or getting the opportunity to have a family.

Tyler had changed all of that. Easily and effortlessly getting her to open up and trust him; quickly showing his softer, vulnerable, and broken side in order for her to be more honest about her own. Going out of his comfort zone and letting her see him for who he truly is -the good, the bad, the horrifically bad- so she’d feel more at ease with doing the same. It had been terrifying; falling so hard and so fast and being so willing to put all her trust and faith in someone she’d just met. But that moment on the bridge, when she’d chosen to put her own life at risk in order to try and save his, she had known it was the beginning; the start of shedding her old existence for an entirely new one. And when he healed and was able to head home and the weeks and months passed by and she’d found herself not able to get enough of him, she’d learned just what it was like to fall more in love with someone as time went by. Soon she began thinking about all of the things she’d miss if she’d lost him. The sound of voice and his laugh and the way his smile made the corner of his eyes crinkle. His clean and fresh and utterly masculine scent, how his hands felt when they cradled her face while kissing her, the weight and warmth of his body in bed next to her. And in the expanse of seven years, her attraction, lust, and love have only grown stronger and more powerful. All consuming and frightening at times, but so damn perfect.

Gently combing her fingers through his hair, she brushes his bangs away from his forehead and then leans down to press a kiss to his brow. Smiling at the long, content sigh that escapes his lips and the way his head briefly lifts before falling back and to the side. THAT’s Millie; the way she falls asleep in the car with her mouth slightly open and her hands tightly clasped in her lap. There’s so much of him in her; physical appearance, mannerisms and facial expressions. And that strong, assertive personality and hair trigger temper. And that ferocious, deep, and profound love and the desire to protect their family that inhabits every fibre of their being.

She carefully climbs into his lap; straddling him with a knee alongside either hip. Curling both arms around his neck and pressing her body against his as she sits upon those wide, muscular thighs; eyes closing as she tucks her head under his chin. And she melts further into him when his arms wrap rightly and securely around her, hands now clasped at the small of her back. He feels so good; the warm that radiates from his body, that solid expanse of chest, the weight of his head as his chin nestles into her hair. Seven years later and she STILL can’t get enough of him. The feel of his body against hers, the familiar smell that clings to his skin and his clothes, how those arms make her feel safe and protected. Something no one before had ever managed to achieve.

She’s unsure how much time passes; if it’s been minutes or hours since she’d closed her eyes and relaxed against him. Her body giving in to its own fatigue; the last of the adrenaline finally abating and replaced with a peaceful, almost happy calm. There’s still so much worry and fear inside of her, but she’s able to temporarily put it on hold; giving it to that enormous relief that comes with each successfully complete part of a job. And she feels his hold on her loosen as he wakes; one hand remaining at the small of her back and the other drifting up her spine and over the nape of her neck before settling in her hair. Lightly fisting the dark, silky tresses and gently pulling her head up towards him. Covering her mouth with his a long, slow, deep kiss that has her pressing her body even tighter against his and culminating in the tip of his tongue briefly sliding along her lower lip before his teeth capture it between them. 

Esme grins. “What was THAT for?”

“I need a reason to kiss my wife?”

“You’re ‘hey, nice to see you’ kisses aren’t usually like THAT.”

“Maybe I’m just glad you’re back. Maybe I was worried about you and anxious to get you back here safe and sound.”

“So that’s your ‘I’m glad you're alive’ kiss.”

“That’s my ‘thank god you’re back in one piece’ kiss.”

“I’ll take it,” she says, and kisses him this time. Soft and languid; her fingernails digging into the back of his neck when his tongue once more pushes its way into her mouth. His palms sliding down to cup her ass; tightly squeezing and pulling her firmly against him. “You’re in a mood,” she observes with a small giggle, and rests her head against his, the sides of their noses touching and their lips a hair’s width apart.

“Yup.”

“Must have been a hell of a nap you had to wake up in that good of a mood.”

“I wanted to be awake when you got back. Guess I just dozed. I’m sorry; that I wasn’t up.”

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t been sleeping well lately. Some nights you don’t even sleep at all. And you need to. Sleep. You’re not a robot.”

“If I was, I could get an upgrade; trade all the bad parts in for better ones. I need a serious overhaul.”

“When we get home, you’re getting looked at. And I don’t want to hear any excuses or bullshit. Because I WILL find a way to drag you there. This has gone on long enough; all the pain that you’re in. It’s been chronic for years and it’s getting worse. I KNOW it is. And you don’t have to live with. You deserve so much better than this.”

“I’ll go. I’ll call as soon as we get back. Make an appointment.”

“You’re not just saying that to appease me and shut me up?”

“I’m saying it because you’re right. It is worse. Way worse than I ever thought it would get. And I’m tired. Of the pain. I’m tired of trying to live with it and pretend I’m okay.”

She lays a hand on the side of his face and nuzzles his ear with her nose. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

“What about everyone else?”

“Fuck everyone else. Who cares what they think. You don’t owe them anything, Tyler. They don’t know half of what goes on or half what you’re going through. Once this is over and we get home, you have to take some time off; you need to get looked at and your body and your brain need to rest. This has been hell and you need to step back when it’s done. You HAVE to. Just run things behind the scenes and leave the dirty work to the people we’re paying. At least for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“That’s it? ‘Okay’? You’re not going to argue with me or try to give all kinds of bullshit about being fine and how I shouldn’t worry about you and you know what your body can handle? None of that?”

“None of that.”

“You’re getting very sensible in your old age,” she teases, and rubs the tip of her nose against his. “Thank you. For finally agreeing with me on something.”

He grins. “Only took seven years.”

“Only,” she laughs, and then rests her cheek on his shoulder. Lulled back into a state of relaxation when the fingers of one of his hands gently massage the back of her head and the other drift up the back of her shirt; repeatedly brushing against the small of her back.

“Where’s Koen?”

“He had to go back for a while. Yaz wanted an in person update on how things went. He said he’d be back sometime in the early evening.”

“How did things go?”

Started and ended a bit rocky, but everything in between went alright. Better than I expected it to, actually.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t call. When you got out. So I’d know you were okay.”

“What?” she gives a small laugh and pulls back to look at him, hands clasped together at the back of his neck. “I DID call you.”

Tyler frowns. “What?”

“How can you not remember? I called you when we got to the car. I told you how they had my picture at the checkpoint but Koen stepped up and saved my ass. I told you how I got the word out and saw Farhad. You don’t remember any of that?”

“Yeah...yeah…” he attempts a reassuring smile “...I do now. Now that you mention it.”

“How could you not remember any of that?”

“I just woke up. You know how I am sometimes when I first wake up. All disoriented and forgetful and shit. Sometimes I don’t even know what day it is or where the hell I am. And my brain’s a little fucked, remember? Short term memory issues.”

“What is going on with you?”

Both his hands move to her legs, slowly rubbing up and down her denim clad thighs. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He chuckles. “No, babe. I don’t. What…?”

“Look at me…” Esme places a hand on the side of his face, nails digging into his cheek as she forcibly moves his head forward. “...what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know what…”

“Have you looked in the mirror at all today? Your pupils are dilated, you’re sweating like crazy, your hands have been shaking for the last ten minutes. You’re looking at me, but it’s like you’re not even seeing me. What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on. I just woke up in a weird mood, I guess.”

“This is way beyond a weird mood. This reminds me of…” her eyes narrow, lips pursing tightly together. “...where are they?”

“What are you talking about? Where’s what?”

“The pills. Where are they?”

“What pills? What are you going on about?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Tyler. The pills. The ones that Anil’s doctor gave you before we left. The stronger ones. The ones you requested because the old prescription wasn't cutting it.”

“It wasn’t. I had to take six just to take the edge off.”

“And how many of the new ones have you taken? You know dilaudid is pretty hard core, right? That is one of the strongest ones out there. And it’s easily addictive and…”

“I’m not addicted,” he irritably interjects. “Not even close. Don’t…”

“Don’t what? Worry?”

“Freak out. Don’t freak out.”

“How many did you take?”

“I don’t know. A few.”

“Bullshit. You’re completely fucked up right now.”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “You woke me up and I was disoriented and I forgot that you called. Fucking relax. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? You’re fucking tweaking on pain meds.”

“You know what? You’re losing your shit for no reason. You’re blowing this way or proportion and…”

“Don’t you do that,” Esme snarls. “Don’t you dare and gaslight me.”

“I’m not,” he attempts to tone down the harshness to his voice, and lightly squeezes her thighs. “I’d never do that to you.”

“So you’re just treating me like I’m stupid, then. You think I don’t know what I’m seeing? That I haven’t seen this before? Where are they?”

“Esme…”

“Are they in the kitchen?”

“I…”

She shakes her head in both exasperation and disbelief, and then jumps off his lap and storms out of the room. “Where are they? Where are you keeping them? With the rest of the meds?”

“What are you doing?” Fear and regret surge through him as he joins her in the kitchen, watching as she opens the lid on the plastic container holding a variety of medications and dumps them onto the counter. Anger causing her cheeks to flush; her eyes dark and wild and her entire body trembling. Hands visibly shaking as she picks up the bottles one by one and reads the labels. 

“Where are they? They were in here last night; I was the one who put them with the rest of the meds. I know I put them in here. Where are they, Tyler?”

“Stop, okay? Just stop and let me explain.”

“Where are they? I will tear this whole fucking kitchen...this whole fucking house...apart until I find them. Is that what you want? You want to see me completely lose it?”

“No, baby. That’s not what I want. Just let me…”

“I’m not letting you explain shit! I am giving you two choices. You can either tell me where they are, or I toss this entire place until I find them. And trust me, the latter won’t end well for you. So you either start being totally honest with me or you let this escalate into the worst day of your life. Where are they?”

Sighing heavily, he reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and removes the bottle of dilaudid; fingers closing tightly around the plastic cylinder when she reaches for it. “At least let me explain. At least listen to me. Please? Give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“You give them to me and I’ll let you explain until you’re blue in the face. And it better not be bullshit. I’m not Sarah; I’m not your dumb ass ex wife that didn’t have the balls to stand up to you or even two brain cells to rub together. So stop treating me like that. Like her.”

He reluctantly releases his grip on the bottle, watching helplessly as she tears off the cap and dumps the contents into her palm. Brow furrowing as she silently counts the pills.

“Where’s the rest of them?”

“I don’t…”

“Stop lying to me!” Esme snaps. “You got this prescription yesterday. Sixty pills. You took two before bed last night. That left you with fifty eight. Even if you’ve already taken four today. There should be fifty four left. Why is there only forty two?”

“I might have accidentally taken too many today.”

“Accidentally or purposefully? Don’t bullshit me. Unless you want me walking out of here right now, don’t lie to me. You meant to take them, didn’t you.”

He nods.

“You’ve taken three times the daily dose and it’s not even four in the afternoon! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“They weren’t doing anything. For the pain. They haven’t been scratching the surface.”

“So you just kept taking them? Hoping it would magically happen? Or were you trying OD on them?”

“No. I wasn’t. I just wanted the pain to stop. That’s all I wanted. I just wanted it to stop.”

“When it didn’t after the first four, you should have called the doctor and told him. Jesus Christ, Tyler! I don’t know if you’re practically OD’ing right now or if you’re high as fuck or if you’re in withdrawal. Look at you! Look at how red your face is and how bad you’re shaking and how much you’re sweating! Was it worth it? Was the high worth this? Was it worth me freaking out?”

“No. It wasn’t. And it wasn’t about getting high. It was about the pain and needing it to stop. And when it didn’t, I kept taking them and I kept waiting for them to make things better.”

“When were you going to stop? When you passed out? When you aspirated on your own puke and choked to death? Is that when you were going to stop? You didn’t get enough of that life before we met? You wanted a little walk down memory lane? A little trip back to the good old days? Or maybe you were nostalgic about when you back on the Oxy and we split up for six fucking months!”

“Baby...please…” He takes a step towards her, attempting to lay a hand on her shoulder, only for her to glare at him and shove him away. 

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” Esme snarls. “And don’t you dare fucking touch me!” She dumps the pills back into the bottle; snapping the lid back into place and then angrily tossing them at him. “Take them! They’re obviously the most important thing to you if you’re willing to throw your entire life away for them.”

“I’m not willing to do that. I’m not trying to throw my life away,” the tears flow freely and easily; spurred on by regret, guilt, and pure shame. And the fear that he’s mere minutes...even seconds...away from losing the one thing...the one person...that seven years ago had made his life worth living. “It’s the pain. It’s the pain and it’s the worry and it’s the stress!”

“You don’t think I’m stressed?! You don’t think I’m worried? I can’t even be with my kids right now. My babies! Because I had to come here and help you. You brought me back to the one place I never wanted to come back to. Because you needed me. Because you needed MY help! And I gave in and I let you take me away from them. I left my children for you and what did you do? You turn into someone I don’t even know! I don’t know who this is standing right in front of me. It’s definitely not my husband, because he would NEVER do this. He’d never risk losing everything like this. How dare you bring me here...how dare you take me away from my kids...and do this to me!”

“I’m sorry. I thought I could stop. I thought I had it under control. I thought…”

“What was the one I think I told you I wouldn’t tolerate? What did I say was my breaking point?”

“Meds.”

“Meds. Exactly. I stuck by you seven years ago when you went into rehab; when you beat it the first time. And I tried to deal with it the second time and you got worse and worse and you wouldn’t get help and we spent six months apart until you decided to finally get your shit together! And you promised me, Tyler. When we got back together and you went through rehab again and you got clean again, you promised me it was the end of it!”

“I know. I know I did. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Not Mahajan, not Asif’s people, not the meds. None of it. And I did think I had it under control. I didn’t think I was that bad. I thought I’d just get over this hump and I’d be fine and I could stop.”

“I can’t do this.” She valiantly holds back the tears that shimmer in her eyes. “I can’t. I love you, but I just can’t. I love you with every fibre of my being. I love you with everything I am and everything I have. But I can’t be with an addict. And I told you I couldn’t. I told you I could handle the drinking, but not the meds. And you said you understood and that you’d never go back to them.”

“I know I did. What do you want me to say? I said I’m sorry. Do you want me to tell that I’m a huge piece of shit? That I’m EXACTLY what your mother said I was? That I’m turning out ton be my single worst fucking fear? That I’m total garbage that doesn’t deserve you? Is that what you want me to say?”

“No! That’s not what I want you to say. Because none of that is true! You’re not any of those things and you never have been! I’ve never seen you that way and I never will you. I love you. I have loved you through every bad, shitty fucking thing we’ve been through. There’s nothing that could make me stop loving you. That’s not what this is about. This isn’t about NOT loving you. This is about loving myself and loving my children and not wanting this life for them. I won’t live with an addict, Tyler. I won’t. And I shouldn’t have to and neither should they.”

“They’re my kids, too. They’re not just yours.”

“Then do what’s best for them! Because this isn’t it! Being an addict is not what’s best for them! And you of all people should know that they don’t deserve this. After everything your father did to you and put you through, you should be the one person who knows they don’t deserve this!”

“I would NEVER hurt them like that. Like he did with me. I would never, ever, lay a hand on them. Or you. I’d kill myself if I ever even thought it.”

“You don’t have to hit people to hurt them. So you don’t raise a hand to them; you break their hearts instead.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, unable to stop the vicious and bitter flow of tears. “I am so sorry.”

“Those kids love you to the ends of the earth and beyond. They idolize you. They practically worship the ground you walk on. And this is what you do? You hurt them like this?This is how you repay them for having all that blind faith and trust in you?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Neither do I,” Esme admits. “All I DO know is that I’m hurt and I’m angry and I’m heartbroken. Because I love you and I don’t want to walk away. It’s the last thing I want. But I can’t put my kids through this. I can’t, Tyler.”

“Are you going to leave?”

“I don’t know. I can’t leave right now, can I. Not in the middle of all this. I can’t leave you here alone to deal with it by yourself. I’d never do that to you. I said I’d help. So here I am. I can’t leave now. I won’t do that to you.”

“What about when we get back home?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I can tolerate a lot, but I can’t tolerate this. I just can’t. And it’s unfair of you to think I should. Or that your kids should.”

“What will you do? With them? Where would you take them? Would stay in Australia or go back to the States or…”

“I wouldn’t take your kids from you.”

“Well you kind of are if you take off.”

“I’d stay in Australia. So you could see them. I wouldn’t tear them out of your life completely. I would never do that to you. Or them. They’re happy there. They love it. And they love you. I wouldn’t cut you out of their lives. You’re their father. I wouldn’t hurt them like that. Or you.”

“So you are. Going to leave.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sounds like your mind’s made up. Like you already made your decision.”

“I haven’t. Because this isn’t a decision I even want to make. Please don’t turn this around and so I look like the bad person.”

“I’m not. I know I’m a huge pile of shit. That I’m a huge fucking failure. I know all that. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That I turned out to be exactly what everyone I would be. A complete and utter fuck up.”

“Stop it!” she orders. “I don’t care what anyone says or thinks. You’re not any of those things. You’ve got issues. You’re an addict and you need help. You need to get your shit together and you need to get clean. And…”

The doorbell sounds throughout the house, bringing an abrupt end to the heated and volatile exchange. And that melodic chime brings an immediate -and enormous- sense of relief; lifting the tension and easing some of the fear and the heartache and remorse that threatens to swallow him whole.

“Who’s that?” A smirk tugs at the corner of Esme’s mouth. “Your dealer?”

Tyler ignores the cheap shot. In fact, he knows he deserves it. In the same way he deserves every harsh truth she’s tossed his way. “Anil was sending a couple of guys. Said he had more gear for me.”

“You should get it then. It’s important.”

“It can wait.”

“If it’s things that are going to keep you alive, I’d rather you get it now. Because it’s important to me; you staying alive.”

He manages a small smile, then uses the heels of his palms to clear the tears away from his cheeks. And his heart gives a hopeful leap when she reaches out to grab his hands as he steps past her; her eyes locked on his as she briefly squeezes. Their fingers slowly grazing along each other as he walks away.

*****

She’s leaning back against the kitchen island when he returns; her eyes still glassy with lingering emotion but her tears long dried up. Hands trembling slightly as she tightly clasps a glass of water.

“That’s it?” she asks, regarding the lone cardboard box in his possession; his name written across the front in black permanent marker. “Where’s Anil’s guys?”

“Gone.” He sidles up beside her, setting the tightly sealed box on the counter top. 

“That’s kind of weird, don’t you think? That they wouldn’t stick around to make sure you got it? And what kind of gear could be in a box that size? Other than ammo or grenades.”

“Definitely not either of those. It barely weighs anything. Addie weights more than this does.”

“What did you ask for?” She takes a swallow of water and turns her stomach to the counter, standing on her tiptoes in order to see over the top of the box as he begins peeling off the layers of tape.

“Nothing. He said he was sending stuff.”

“I don’t know who taped it shut, but it reminds me how you wrap Christmas presents.”

Tyler frowns. “I’m not THAT bad.”

“Baby, this past Christmas? You used a whole roll of tape for three things.”

“They were big presents.”

“Sure they were,” she chides, and playfully leans into him with her shoulder. “Would you hurry up? The suspense is killing me.”

“It isn’t even yours. Relax.”

“Maybe it’s new knee or elbow pads,” she suggests.

“I don’t need those.”

“Your other ones are a hot mess. They’re the same ones you had seven years ago. The first time we were here. You wouldn’t let me throw them out, remember?”

“I like those ones. They’re my favourites.”

“Kind of like your favourite red underwear? With all the holes in them and the frayed edges?”

“They’re not my favourite underwear. They’re my lucky underwear. I was wearing those the days we made Declan and Addie. So they’re VERY lucky.”

“That explains the day you’re currently having. You’re not wearing them, are you.”

Tyler grins. “You’re a smart ass.”

“But I’m cute. I’m a cute smart ass.”

“I’ll give you that.” He peels off the last remaining layer of tape, feeling her hand on his back as she perches herself even further on her toes in order to see the content. “There’s nothing in there for you,” he teases. 

“I’m curious. I want to see. It’s like when Amazon delivers something I forgot I ordered.”

He smirks, then pulls back the flaps on the box. Eyes widening and his heart hammering in his chest when he spies the content. The faded and tattered gray ‘fur’, the one coal black eye staring up at him. He feels nauseous; bile burning the back of his throat. And his jaw tightens painfully and his hands grip the edges of the box with such force that the thick cardboard tears and his knuckles turn white.

“What the fuck…” her voice is barely above a whisper, and she takes a shaky, unsteady step backwards. “...Tyler...what the fuck…”

All words escape him. Profanities being screamed inside his head yet never making it to his lips. And he takes his own step back when she frantically rushes the counter; scooping the well loved stuffed koala from the confines of the box. Tears brimming in her eyes and her entire body trembling as gentle fingers travel over the surface of the bear. It’s tattered and worn down fur, the space when it’s second eyes used to bed, the purple and pink ribbon that Millie had wrapped around its neck three months ago; right before presenting it to her brand new baby sister. 

“Oh God…” she sobs, the bear falling from her hands; body teetering and swaying as shock turns to light-headedness. “...Tyler…”

“You need to sit down.” He wraps his fingers around her upper arm, steering her in the direction of the kitchen table. A hand moving to the small of her back as she guides her into one of the chairs. “Calm down, okay? Just try and calm down.”

“What the hell is going on? What the hell…”

“Settle down. Just breathe. Can you do that for me? Just breathe?”

“I think so.”

He runs a palm over the top of her head and down her hair, tightly squeezing her shoulder before stepping away to fetch her half empty glass of water and the bottle of anti anxiety meds from the container on the counter. The rage is profound; the desire for revenge and the news to get his hands -his BARE hands- around the necks of every one of Asif’s people stronger than it’s ever been. But he needs to hold it together. Despite everything that happened earlier...the intensity of their fight and the echo of harsh, heartbreaking words still hanging in the air...she needs him. And he needs to stow his own shit and take care of her.

“I don’t need those,” Esme protests, when she sees the bottle of pills in his hand. “I don’t…”

“You do. And you’re going to take them. They’re safe; for the baby.” He sets the glass of water on the table and drops to his knees in front of her, uncapping the bottle and plucking out two of the small, white pills. “Open up.”

“No, Tyler. No.”

“Open up,” he firmly orders, and then slips the meds into her mouth; a palm resting under her chin and gently pressing her mouth closed. Her hands still tremble violently, and he holds the glass of water to her lips; slowly pouring the liquid into her mouth, a hand cupped underneath in order to capture anything that escapes her mouth. “You need to stay calm, okay?” He returns the glass to the table, then takes both her hands in his; holding them as tightly as he can and placing them on her thighs. “Just breathe. I got you.”

“It hurts,” she winces. “My stomach.”

“Cramps?”

She nods.

“You want to go to the hospital? Get checked out?”

“We can’t leave. They obviously know we're here. If they leave, they’ll see us and they’ll come after us and they’ll…”

“Let them. I’ll fucking kill them. All of them. All that matters is you and that baby.”

“I can’t let that happen. I can’t let them get a hold of you and hurt you. I can’t…”

“I’ll call Anil. I’m sure he knows someone that can come here and check on things. You want me to call him?”

Esme shakes her head.

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I don’t think it’s anything serious. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the baby. I used to get cramps all the time with the others; when I’d get worked up or too excited. I think it’s just that.”

“If it gets any worse…”

“I’ll tell you. I promise.”

He raises her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of one, then the other.

“They know where we are.”

“Yeah. They know.”

“How? This is supposed to be a safe house. How did they find us? How…?”

“I don’t know, baby. I honestly don’t know.”

“Fredrick…” she glances towards the bear on the counter. “...how...I don’t understand…”

“It’s fucked up, I know. It is so fucked up. And I’m so sorry. That this is happening. That ANY of this is happening.”

“That night you went into Addie’s room and the window was open, he was gone then, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I never noticed. I was too busy worrying about her crying and being cold and the window being wide open. I didn’t think to look for the bear.”

“They came in through the window?”

“No. There’s no way. There’s no way they got onto the property. Not with all those guards keeping an eye on things. And I checked; during the day. There’s a garden right under her window and there were no footprints in the dirt, no indents from a ladder. Nothing. There was nothing there.”

“So it was someone inside?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

“Which means they’re still there. And our kids are still there. We need to go back. We need to go back to Mumbai and…”

“Listen to me,” he drops one of her hands and lays his palm on the back of her head. “We can’t. We can’t go back. Not when they know we’re here. They’re watching us; they’re watching every move we make and they’ll see us leave and they’ll follow and we’ll lead them right back to the kids. We can’t leave.”

“What do we do? Whoever it is, they’re still in the house. With our kids!”

“I’ll call Anil. And Nik. I’ll let them know what happened and they’ll take care of it. I need you to trust me. I know that’s a lot to ask, especially after what went down between us earlier, but I need you to trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

“The kids will be fine. I promise you. Nothing’s going to happen to them.”

“Look how close someone got to Addie. They were right in her room. They got close enough to take Fredrick. He was right beside her. When I tucked her in, she was looking at him and I moved him closer so she could see him better and touch him if she wanted to. I was so happy because she’s always so alert; she was paying attention and engaged with him and that’s a huge milestone and she’s reached it really early. And I thought I was doing the right thing by moving him closer to her. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing for her. I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I left her there. Usually we let her sleep in the room with us but she finally started getting comfortable in the crib and I wanted to be alone with you and I left her there and I should have brought her in with us. I shouldn’t have left her there alone and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he firmly repeats, and presses his lips to her forehead. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s okay. Just calm down. Everything’s going to be alright. You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Fredrick was right there. Next to her. They would have had to reach over her. They could have taken her. They could have grabbed her and they could have…”

“Shhh…” He places a kiss to her temple, an arm curling around her waist and the hand buried in her hair drawing her face down to his shoulder. And he feels her arms slip under his, followed by her palms against his back and her fingernails digging into his skin. “...just breathe...it’s okay, Esme. I got you. I’m right here.”

“They could have taken her. They could have taken Addie.”

“But they didn’t. She’s fine.”

“But they could have. They could have grabbed her. That’s our baby, Tyler. And they could have taken her from us and we never would have seen her again.”

“They weren’t going to take her. It wasn’t about Addie. They were never going to hurt her.”

Sniffling, she turns her head sideways and rests her cheek against his shoulder; nose presses into the side of his neck. “How do you know?”  
“It wasn’t about Addie. It was about fucking with my head. They don’t want to hurt her. They want to hurt ME.”

“I don’t want that happening either,” she whimpers. “I don’t want to lose her OR you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise.”

“When is this going to be over?”

“Soon. It’ll be over soon.”

“I just want to go home. I want to go and get our kids and go home.”

“And we will. Soon. I promise.”

“You have to make them pay, Tyler. Every single one of them. You have to make them pay for ever going near her. Every last one of them. You go in there and you make them pay.”

“I will,” he vows, and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “I’ll make them pay.”

*****

When he returns from calling both Anil and Nik, he finds her asleep on the couch. On her side with her knees pulled up towards her chest; cheeks raw from the tears she’d shed and the Addie’s bear tugged tightly against her. She’s exhausted; worn out by the hysterics surrounding the sudden appearance of Fredrick -and the unspoken message sent along with him- and their earlier fight. He’s wracked by guilt and remorse; torn apart by the realization that he’d broken her heart. Hurting her when all he’s ever wanted to was protect her. And now he’s single-handedly destroyed the one person who’d given him a second chance; who’d seen past all of his damage and the weight of his demons and his mistakes and never once judged him for them or held his past over his head. She’d given him everything; a new life, a love he’d never imagined he could feel and thought he deserved, and five incredible, beautiful children. He’d taken all of it for granted; foolishly assuming she’d stick around no matter how badly he fucked up. And now he’s paying the price; filled with the very real -and terrifying- possibility that he’s already lost her. That the second they return home, she’ll be gone. Taking his kids and his entire heart with her.

He grabs the throw blanket from the back of the couch and spreads it over her, gently tucking it around her body and then gingerly removing Fredrick from her grasp. Lifting her head with one hand and then tucking the bear underneath her with the other; employing it as a makeshift pillow to place her cheek upon. He removes the holster and the gun from his hip and sets it on the coffee table, then retreats to the easy chair across the room. The pain in both his knee and shoulder are intense, causing him to wince and groan when he lowers himself into a sit and stretches his legs out in front of him. 

There’s no relief for him now; flushing the entire bottle of pills the second he hung up the phone. As much as he wants them and craves them and NEEDS them, nothing good will come from having them even remotely close to him. He’s already on the verge of losing everything that matters, and he’s willing to take whatever steps he has to to prevent it from happening. He can’t lose her; life empty and meaningless without her. And he’d end up just as pathetic and worthless as he was before they met; spending his days in drunken and drug filled stupors. 

Tyler rests his head against the back of the chair and closes his eyes. It will be a long while before he’s able to rest again; brain plagued with fear and guilt and immense regret. And rage. Insurmountable rage. The mere thought of anyone getting that close to one of his kids...his baby girl...causes both his jaw and his fists to clench. He’s never been a fan of revenge. Believing that the need and desire for it does more harm than good; putting yet another burden upon an already weary shoulders. But now he wants it. He NEEDS it. 

He’s unsure of how long he sits there; eyes closed and pain radiating through his entire body, yet every once of his senses on high alert. Stomach twisting and clenching as his body tries to get used to not having it’s favourite vice. It’s alarming how quick it happened; how easily and effortlessly he became dependent on the drugs. But he’s optimistic that the side effects of sudden withdrawal won’t be that bad; he hadn’t been on them that long and the levels of the drug in his system are still relatively low. He’s battled worse. And won.

“Tyler?” Her voice is groggy, and tinged with hints of confusion and sadness.

“Yeah?”

“You’re awake?”

“I’m awake.” 

He hears the soft rustling of her clothes against the fabric of the couch, accompanied by the faint squeak of the springs as she climbs off of it. And within seconds he senses her standing alongside of him; eyes still closed as she pushes her fingers through his hair and then climbs into his lap. Turning her body sideways and draping her legs over the arm of the chair; both arms circling his neck and her head nestling into the space between his neck and shoulder. And he places a hand on her thigh and another on the small of her back, then turns his face into hers and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“You okay?” he asks, and runs his knuckles along her lower back.

Esme nods.

“Any cramps?”

“No. They’re gone. But I was scared.”

He rests his cheek against his forehead. “So was I.”

“Did you call Anil? And Nik?”

“It’s being taken care of. He’ll find out who it was. The kids are safe. Nik says they’re happy and having a good time. They miss us, though. And one of them’s a little...off.”

“That has to be Tanner.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“He’s just so sensitive. And he feels and he loves so deeply and so powerfully. He’s so much like you. You’re the same; you have all these emotions and all this love. And it’s beautiful. I just wish you were more like HIM; a little more about it all.”

“I’m trying. I really am.”

“I know. I know it’s hard. I know what it did; growing up with your father.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You don’t have to.” She kisses the side of his neck, lips covering the scar left behind from seven years ago. “Are YOU okay?”

“Not really, no.”

“Pain?”

“It’s bearable. I’ll deal with it. All I have to do is get through the next few days and then we can go home and I can get to the doctor and he can figure something out. Find out just what the fuck is wrong and fix it. Or at least try to.”

“Did you take any more meds?”

“No. I flushed them.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I did. I did have to. Because it was getting way out of hand and I couldn’t stop. I don’t think I wanted to. And I don’t want that; I don’t want to be that way again.”

“I’ll help you. You know I will. You know I’ll do whatever it takes to help you get better.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“And I don’t want to hear that talk. Because it’s bullshit. I love you and I’ll do whatever it takes to help you get past this. To help you get better.”

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to get home and watch you walk out. I don’t want to go through all of this...Mahajan...Asif...all this shit...just to have you walk away.”

“I need a reason to stay, Tyler. I need to know that you’re clean and you’re healthy and the kids and I are safe.”

His heart aches at those words. At the mere thought she’d feel anything but safe with him.

“You’re always safe with me. You know that. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Or them.”

“When you’re clean, you’re amazing. You’re a ten. A ten plus, even. When you’re lucid and sober, you’re the one that keeps everything together. But when you’re using, I don’t even recognize you. You’re a totally different person. And if I see it, the kids will see it. Especially Millie and Tanner. You know how perceptive those two are. If things continue and they get THAT out of hand, you won’t be in control anymore. The meds will take over and you know what you’re saying or doing. And I can’t take that chance; that they’ll turn you like that. Because I trust you, but I don’t trust THEM.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Whatever you WANT me to.”

“You have to want it too. Because if you don’t, it won’t work. And you know it won’t.”

“I’m not going back to the way I was. I won’t be that way; none when I met you, not when we split up. I refuse to be that guy again. And I’ll do whatever it takes NOT to be him.”

“If you have to get clean, Tyler. Whether that’s on your own with just me helping you, or you check into a rehab. This is the last chance. This is the third time we’ve been through this. And if it doesn’t stick this time…”

“It will. I promise it will. I can’t lose you. Or the kids. I just can’t.”

She raises her head from his shoulder and laying a hand on his cheek turns her face towards her; covering his mouth with hers in a kiss that’s so soft and so sweet it brings tears to his eyes. He doesn’t deserve this. Her. Not after everything he’s done to break her heart. Yet here she is, so willing and eager to love in spite of it all.

“What happens now?” Esme asks, as her fingers move through her hair and then trace the scars that mar his forehead, the left side of his face, and the bridge of his nose. “With this whole Fredrick thing?”

“Anil’s sending some guys to keep an eye on the outside. Koen and Rata are going to come and stay here; in case we need them. Asif’s people try anything they won’t get very far. And I think they’d be stupid to even make a mouth. These are street kids for the most part; they’re way out of their element.”

“That’s what we thought about those little assholes that attacked us in the alley seven years ago. And look how that ended up.”

“That was a lucky shot. Farhad. I turned my back and he took advantage of it. I knew better than that. I knew never to turn my back on a situation that could still be hot.”

She frowns. “You’re not really blaming yourself for that, are you? Him shooting you?”

“I’m just saying that I knew better. That was a rookie mistake. And I paid for it. Big time. I’m still paying for it. So are you.”

“You were already hurt,” she reasons. “You were already messed up. You shouldn’t even have gotten up after that sniper got you. A lesser man would have died then. He would have stayed down and given up. And you didn’t. It’s not in you; to give up.”

“Sometimes I think I should have. Given up that day. Just stayed the fuck down and given up.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Would have saved you a world of hurt.”

“No. It wouldn’t have. Because I would have gone back home and I would have found out I was having Millie and I would have had to have gone through all of that by myself. She never would have known you. I didn’t even have a picture of you. All that would have existed was her, and my memories of you. What would I have done when she got old enough to ask about you? When she wanted to know who her daddy is? So no, Tyler. You didn’t cause me a world of hurt, you saved from one.”

Swallowing around the lump of emotion wedged in his throat, he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t regret meeting you. I don’t regret what happened on the bridge. I don’t regret a single thing. I only regret I didn’t meet you sooner. Because THAT would have spared me a world of hurt.”

“That’s what you get for not taking a trip to Australia,” he teases, and she gives a small laugh.

“What was I supposed to do? Just fly there and try and find you? I wouldn’t exactly pick The Kimberley for my end destination.”

“Maybe we could have met somewhere else.”

“Like where?” 

“I dunno. The grocery store? The beach? A bar?”

“Oh that would have been interesting. Both of us drunk in the same place.”

“I would have so picked you up.”

“Bold of you to assume I would have let you.”

He frowns, and she giggles and pecks his lips.

“I would have loved to have met you fifteen years ago,” she muses. “What did you look like?”

“Pretty much what I looked like when we did meet.”

“Same hair?”

“Different.”

“That would have been a bummer.”

“What is it with you and the hair?”

“I like it. It suits you. It’s very sexy. How about if we met...I don’t know...twenty years ago?”

“I still would have been in the SASR.”

“Sexy. A man in uniform.”

He chuckles. “I was far from sexy.”

“I highly doubt that. There’s no way you couldn’t have been sexy. What about high school?”

“I was tall and skinny. That’s about it. I had longer hair. Like TJ wears his.”

“You were cute as hell then. I would have had a crush on you, for sure.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Why?”

“Because when I was fifteen, you were only ten.”

“That’s a very good point. I mean, I would have still crushed on you but it definitely wouldn’t have reciprocated. So to go back and time and meet you, I would have to meet military you. So, say I was nineteen, you would have been twenty four.”

“And married.”

She scowls. “Stop ruining it for me! Let’s pretend you weren’t married then. That you were still single. And we met in a bar. Or at the beach. Would I have liked what I saw?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t look that much different back then, I guess. A lot less scars, not as much ink. Not as much hair; had a brush cut back then. And I wasn’t as big.”

“Were you jacked?”

“A little. I worked out. Not near as much as I do now.”

“I would have hooked up with you. Those eyes would have reeled me in. Then I would have heard the voice and I would have been a goner. You wouldn’t have been able to get rid of me.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

“I love when you say all the right things,” she declares, and then once more settles her head on his shoulder. Fingers slowly -and repeatedly- running through his hair. “We’re going to be okay right?” She sounds close to tears once again. “We’ll get past this, won’t we? Tell me we’ll get past this.”

He tightens his hold on her; then drops a kiss on the top of her head. “We will.”


	79. Chapter 79

With the addition of several armed guards to patrol and secure the outside perimeter and Rata offering to take ‘first watch’ outside the bedroom door. He’s able to step out for some fresh air. He needs to get his head back in the game’ stop thinking and reacting emotionally and start looking at things -and coming up with solutions- from the viewpoint of a mercenary. It’s difficult; separating the two when it’s your own family are the ones being targeted. Damn near impossible, in fact. Both the anger and fear are profound; the mere thought of someone even planning on hurting his wife and children stokes the fire of rage and the need for revenge. It’s so easy to LET your emotions run things when the people you love...who you’ve spent years busting your ass to protect...will be the ones to suffer immensely if they fall into the wrong hands. He’s hardened and experienced, but he’s not dead inside. That had been proven when he HAD managed to fall in love with someone. What he’d thought had long shrivelled up and perished inside of him had just been lying dormant; waiting for that one moment...that one person...who was strong enough to break down the walls and tear through the broken, tattered mess he’d made of himself. And maybe he HAD known it right from the start; how livid he’d been when she’d intentionally ignored him and put herself in danger as sign that things were changing. That HE was changing. He’d certainly felt it the first time he’d kissed her; the way her body eagerly and excitedly responded to his, the desperation in which she’d kissed him back and never once hesitated when it quickly turned into something much more intense. 

It had been fear that held the feelings...held HIM...back. Scared of hurting her; worried that once she saw him...the real him...she’d be frightened off by all his issues and demons and she’d leave him a bigger mess than before. Mostly, he’d thought she deserved better than him; a soldier for hire with addiction addiction issues, a lifetime of bad decisions, and a propensity to destroy everything he touched. But she’d hung in there. Willingly putting her own life on the line to save his and sticking by his side; both after Dhaka and through all the bullshit and problems he brought her way through years. Remaining loyal and faithful no matter how hard times got, and never looking at him like he was garbage or a total failure. How do you NOT get emotional when the one person who loves you more than life itself...who’d helped you create five incredible little human beings...is the one with a target on their back? When you know all the horrible, vile things that will be done to her if the wrong people get a hold of her? How do you stop thinking and reacting with your heart when that someone IS your whole heart?

His brain hurts. It’s weary. Muddle. Frustrated. Overrun by multiple and equally powerful emotions. Anger. Guilt. Regret. His heart broken over the realization that he’d once again gone back on a promise and deeply wounded her. It seems to be commonplace. Inadvertently hurting her and his own stubbornness and hang ups making the situation even worse and then having to grovel his way to forgiveness. But this time it’s different. He’s crossed the line before; gone back on his word and disappointed her. But he’s never completely trampled it. At least not until now. She’s confronted him about the same issues before; given him warnings and ultimatums that had seemed serious at the time. But none of those had ever seemed this dire. This FINAL. It wasn’t just in the words and the thinly veiled threats, but in the tone of her voice; the frustration and anger, the disappointment and vehemence. It was in those wild, unhinged eyes and in every single gesture of her hands and the way her entire body trembled. She’s finally reached her breaking point; if he doesn’t get clean...if he doesn’t commit himself to it...she WILL leave. It isn’t just a threat. She’s strong and tenacious and while she doesn’t want to raise the kids alone, she’ll bite the bullet and do it. Everything she said had been true; all her points and arguments valid even if they had damaged his entire soul. He deserved it. Every single word. And as much as it hurts, he knows the pain he’s caused is a hell of a lot worse.

He glances over his shoulder as the screen door slides open; giving Koen a simple nod in greeting before turning his attention back to the dark of night and the glass of whisky clutched in his hand. He’d needed something to take the edge off; both the pain and the need for the long discarded pill just shy of unbearable. But he’s been sipping at for nearly an hour and it hasn’t made a dent; each swallow tasting more putrid than the last. It’s the disgust he feels; sickened by how quick he’d fallen back into old habits and how easily those habits had been able to control him.

“Things are looking okay in there,” Koen says, taking a swig of his beer before taking a seat beside him on the back patio’s top step. “All if quiet. Just the way we want it.”

Tyler nods in agreement. 

“How’s things out here?”’  
He shrugs. “As good as they get when you’re surrounded by armed guards, I guess.”

“Well that’s all fine and dandy, but what I was really talking about was you. How are YOU doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Not sure I’m doing to be honest.”

“It’s a hell of a thing; the bear just showing up like that.”

Tyler scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

“I don’t get why the hell anyone would do something like that. Get kids involved. A baby, at that. Takes someone pretty sick and twisted to justify dragging little ones into adult problems. They got an issue with you, that’s who they should be taken it up with. Leave the kiddos out of it.”

“It’s not really about the kids. It’s about using them to get to me. Because they know it’s what will break me; anything happening to my wife and kids.”

“They’re making it THAT personal?”

“They know they can’t break me any other way. They know they won’t be able to beat me out on the street or hand to hand. They know they have to weaken me first. And that’s exactly what they’re trying to do.”

“You sure of that? Because they got awfully close to that baby.”

“They would have taken her if they wanted her. They had every chance to grab her. They weren’t planning on hurting her. It’s all about fucking with my head. All the threats, all the sick and twisted shit they said they’d do to Esme and the kids...especially the girls...it’s all about screwing me up. And I gotta give them credit I guess; it’s working.”

“Come on,” Koen nudges him with his elbow. “You’re tougher stuff than that. You don’t break easy; if at all. Just take it from the source.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried drilling that into my head? That it’s all just words and I shouldn’t let them get to me? I HAVE tried. I’ve tried ignoring it and I’ve tried considering where it’s coming but. But every time I look at my wife or I think about my kids, all that creeps into my head is what’s been said. What I've been told will happen to them. You can’t love someone that much and just ignore it and act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not saying don’t let it bother you. I’m saying don’t let it bother you as much as it is.”

“That’s my family they’re talking about. My wife. My kids. I can’t just turn off how I feel about them. And I find it a little hard to take advice from a guy with two failed marriages under his belt.”

“You keep going like you are and YOU’RE going to have two failed ones. Or is that what you’re trying to do? Fuck yourself to the point she’ll say ‘enough’s enough’ and just walk out.’

Tyler scowls. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“You sure about that? First the meds, now you’re drinking too? You’re just pissing it all away, aren’t you. You’ve got a good thing...a damn good thing...and you don’t even appreciate it.”

“Is that why you came out here? To ride my ass? To make me feel like complete and utter shit?”

“You’re an ungrateful fuck, you know that? You get a second chance; you find someone that loves you despite all your bullshit, despite your past and your fucking job. Someone that sticks by you no matter what. And this is how you her? You shit all over her? And those kids? How fucking dare you do that to her.”

“How fucking dare YOU come out here with this bullshit,” Tyler angrily counters. “You have no clue what you’re even talking about. You have no idea what went down here today. How close she was to walking out of her. How close I came to losing my entire family.”

“What are you talking about? What…?”

“I’m drinking because I’m not on the meds anymore. Because I flushed them. And because I’m in so much fucking pain, I could put a gun in my mouth. Because I need something...anything...to numb this shit.”

Koen frowns “Don’t talk like that. Don’t talk stupid shit. About putting a gun in your mouth. Don’t…”

“There’s where I am. I’m right fucking there. I’m tired. I’m tired of the pain and I’m tired of all this bullshit and I’m tired of being away from my kids. This has to stop; the pain, this crap with Mahajan. It’s all gotta stop. Because I can’t keep going like this; I can’t keep living like this. I just can’t. It’s breaking me. And she deserves better than that. So do my kids.”

“And you think ending it would make things better for them? It would make things worse. They need you. A clean and sober you.”

“And I’m gonna get clear. Which is why I flushed the meds. It was them or her. I chose her.”

“She found out?”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods and takes a swallow of whiskey. “She found out.”

“How?”

“I was pretty messed up when she got back. The point I didn’t even remember her calling me when you just got done.”

“Jesus,” Koen mutters. “How many of those pills did you take?”

“Too many. I don't know if I was still high from them or if I was borderline OD’ing or if I was going through withdrawal. But I was fucked up and it was easy for her to figure out what was going on. She’s seen me like that before. Way too many times. More than I want to admit. “

“What happened?”

“She lost it. Rightfully so. Said a lot of things that hurt like hell but I needed to hear. About how it was her breaking point and I needed to get my shit together once and for all.”

“And yet she’s STILL here.”

“All that...all the times I’ve hurt her and I’ve broken promises and I’ve been a complete fuck up...and she says she still loves me. She just can’t live with an addict; can’t have the kids around that. And she’s right; she DOES deserve better than that and so do they. So that’s why I flushed the pills. Because losing them would cause a hell of a lot more pain than what I’m going through right now.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to smarten the hell up. I’m going to go see the doctor; find out what’s going on with my body and get it fixed. I’ll go to rehab if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family together. To be the man that she needs. That she deserves. I’ll stop at nothing to make that happen.”

Koen nods slowly, then turns attention to the beer in his hands. Draining it in a handful of long sips before setting the empty bottle on the step below. “You really thought she was going to leave?”

“I did. And it scared the shit out of me. I’ve already spent months away from him. And that was my doing too. You think I would have learned my lesson the first time.”

“What did you do? Get on your knees and beg?”

“Believe me, I would have done it if it had gotten to that point. I’m not above begging. But she said she couldn’t leave; not in the middle of all this. Said she wouldn’t leave me alone to deal with it by myself. Said she couldn’t do that to me.”

“Gotta give her credit; even pissed off and raging, she still loves your ass.”

“Nothing’s stopping her from leaving when we get back though. And she’s got every right to leave me. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. But it would fucking kill me. Because she’d walk out and she’d take my kids and I don’t think there’s anything I’d be able to do to get them back.”

“Sounds like you got your work cut out for you,” Koen muses. “And if you’re willing to put the work in..”

“I'm willing to do whatever it takes...whatever I have to...to make sure I don’t lose her.”

“If you really think she’s fixin’ to leave, you have to do whatever it takes to change her mind. Make sure you prove to her that it’s a one off. That this isn’t the way you want to be. And I know it isn’t; I know this isn’t how you want to be.”

“I just want the pain gone. I NEED it gone. And I thought if I could just use the meds until I got home, I could see a doctor and find out what’s wrong and get it fixed. I thought I’d just be able to stop and never touch them again.”

“You know that’s horseshit, right? You’re an addict; whether you like to hear that or not. You are. And that’s the kind of choices and decisions you can’t be making. And honestly? I think it’s a good thing she caught on this soon. Imagine if it had gone on longer? How deep would you have been into it? I would have been a hell of a lot messier, that’s for sure. She’s a tough little shit, ain’t she.”

Tyler nods. “Tougher than she gives herself credit for. Probably the toughest person I know.”

Koen scowls. “I’ll try not to be offended by that.”

Tyler smirks, then polishes off the last of his drink.

“Your girl was impressive today, by the way. The way she kept her cool on the bridge, how she handled the guy in the market, how she took seeing that little prick that shot ya.”

“What’s the chances of that even happening? That she’d see him?”

“She’s got quite the hate on for him. Wouldn’t put it past her to kill him with her bare hands. But she did good today. Real good. You should be proud of her.”

“I’m proud of her every day, mate. For a whole lot of different reasons.”

Koen smiles, then playfully tousles Tyler’s hair. “So what now? We just wait? Hope they call?”

“That's about it. I was hoping it would have happened by now, but…” he shrugs. “You know, part of me...a huge part...just wants to say ‘fuck it, let someone else deal with it’; just get the hell out of here and get my kids and go home. Get someone else to do the dirty work.”

“But…”

“But that would look like I’m running scared. And I’m not. I’m not scared of those little bastards. I’ve handled bigger and better. Only thing I’m worried about is my family; getting them the hell out of this mess. That’s all that matters.”

“You know, there probably are people who could get this shit done.”

“Maybe. But I gave Anil my word; that I’d be the one to to do this. I can’t back out now. Especially after the Fredrick thing.”

Koen frowns “Fredrick? Who’s Fredrick?”

“The bear. Do you not know the story of the bear?”

“Do I need to?”

“I bought him for Millie when she was born. She was like half an hour old and I went downstairs to start calling people and letting them know about her, and there was this bear in the window of the gift shop. And Esme hadn’t been in Australia very long and she was all about koalas so I bought the damn thing. It became this joke; every time we took Millie on a road trip somewhere, we’d bring the bear with us. So wherever we went, we’d take a picture of him and then we got home, Esme would print it off. She ended up making a scrapbook with all the pictures; gave it to Millie on her third birthday.”

“Okay, I know I have a cold, dead heart, but that is some seriously adorable shit.”

“Millie took that damn bear everywhere. Slept with it every night. And she started talking, she named him Patrick.”

“I thought his name was Fredrick?”

“It is. He became Fredrick. After Addie was born, Millie gave him to her because she was happy to finally have a sister. She gave Addie the bear and suddenly his name was Fredrick. I don’t know, mate. I don’t know why the hell that kid does the things she does. So yeah, that’s the story of Patrick. Or Fredrick. Or whatever the hell his name is.”

“And someone just took it?”

“Right out of the crib. Esme said she put it right next to her; that they would have to reach over her to get it. Someone was right there; right fucking there. Right across the goddamn hall form us. And I didn’t hear a thing. They went in there and I didn’t even know it.”

“You were asleep,” Koen reasons. “How could you have known? If they were creeping around…”

“Where were my instincts? They’re the one thing I could always count on; my gut picking up on something that’s wrong or someone that’s shady. But there was nothing. I didn’t suspect a single one of those people. How fucking pathetic is that? I do the job I do...I protect complete strangers...and I couldn’t even protect my kid and I was right across the hall.”

“They probably worked hard so you wouldn’t suspect a thing.” Koen says. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. There’s no way you could have prevented it.”

“I was fifteen feet away. IF that,” Tyler shakes his head in disbelief. “And they got close to my kid. How do I NOT blame myself?”

*****

An hour later he joins her in the bedroom; setting a bowl of ice cream down on the bedside table and then leaning over to peck her lips. Chuckling when she grabs him by the front of the shirt and yanks him down or something longer; his hand coming to rest on the mattress to avoid losing his balance and landing on top of her.

“What’s that for?” Esme inquires, nodding at the bowl as she pushes herself up into a sit.

“Peace offering.”

“I wasn’t aware you needed one. I thought we weren’t fighting anymore.”

“Guess it’s to guarantee we DON’T start up again.”

“No fighting, I promise. The last thing I want to do is fight with you. I didn’t want to fight with you in the first place.”

“Eat your ice cream,” Tyler gently orders, then drops a kiss on the top of her head before retreating to a nearby chair; wincing as he slowly lowers himself into it.

She watches him, an eyebrow arched and the spoon pressed to her lips. “Back?”

“Everything.”

“You didn’t have to flush the pills. I didn’t want you to stop taking them entirely; I wanted you to take them responsibly. It was kind of hasty; getting rid of them like that. I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I’ll be alright. It’s not that bad. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

“If it wasn’t that bad, you wouldn’t have resorted to taking so many. Why don’t you call Anil’s doctor? Ask or something else; something that will actually work and you won’t have to go overboard.”

“At this point, I probably can’t even be trusted with over the counter shit. I’ll be okay. I’ll deal with it for the rest of the time we’re here, then when we get home, I’ll get the doctor to fix me up.”

“Who knows how long THAT will be. I don’t want you suffering. That’s not what I wanted at all. I just didn’t want it getting out of hand. Not like before. And it scared me; seeing you like that today. Because I remember what it was like the last time it got out of control. And that nearly destroyed us. And I don’t want it destroying us.”

“It won’t,” Tyler assures her. “That’s why I got rid of them. I had to. I didn’t trust myself with them.”

“But now I feel like shit. Because I know how bad things have gotten. You barely sleep and when you do you’re restless and never really at peace. Half the time you don’t eat properly. And I know about your hand; I see you struggling to use it sometimes. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve got enough going on.” 

“I’m going to worry about you regardless. So you might as well just tell me about these things. Is there anything I can do? You want me to get an ice pack or a heating pad or I can massage it? Or maybe you can take a hot shower or a hot bath…”

“You need to stop. I’m fine.”

“Want some ice cream?”

“Regardless of what you think, it doesn’t solve everything.”

“I’m trying here, okay? I feel like shit. You dumped all those pills. For me.”

“I dumped them for me. So I wouldn’t lose my entire life. I’ll deal with it. I’ll get shit done here, we’ll go home, and I’ll get it all looked at. Okay?”

“Okay,” Esme reluctantly agrees, then turns her attention to the bowl of ice cream in her hands. 

The silence that follows is comfortable. Companionable. Still existing after seven years; content just to be in one another’s presence. It was something they’d discovered right off the bat; a quiet, comfy ease with one another as opposed to having to fill the minutes with mindless chit chat. He takes the opportunity to rest her eyes; legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. Actual sleep will be a rare commodity. The arrival of Fredrick and the unspoken messages accompanying him combined with the anticipation of a call from Asif’s people, have his senses on high alert. Expecting the arrival of a threat, but hoping it never comes. It’s good to be prepared; keeping your guard up at all times and always assuming trouble could be just around the corner of lurking in the shadows. 

The faint clinking of the spoon against the side of the bowl captures his attention; followed by the dish being placed on the nightstands and the sound of her clothes brushing against the sheets as she stretches out in bed. And when he opens his eyes and glances over, she’s flat on her back with her t-shirt pulled up to just above her navel, and the waist of her pyjama bottoms resting across her pubic bone. Eyes fixated on the ceiling as she runs her hands slowly over the sides and the top of her ever growing bump.

“What are you doing?”

“Just feeling the bump,” Esme says. “It’s bigger when I lie down. Does it look big?”

“I think it looks cute.”

“Do you have a pregnant woman fetish I don’t know about?” she teases.

“Only if the pregnant woman is my wife.”

“It’s weird to be showing this soon. It’s bigger, right? Than all the other ones at this stage? Does it look bigger?”

“I guess. I don’t know. Seems about the same as when you were having the boys.”

“You just HAD to put that out into the universe.”

“You asked me if it was like the others. I said yes; it looks like when you were pregnant with the twins. Don’t ask if you don’t really want an answer.”

“It’s growing on me. Both figuratively AND literally.”

He gives a small laugh; minutes passing by as he watches her. Contentment sparkling in her eyes as he palms continue to move over her bump. 

A grin is tugging at the corners of her mouth when she turns her head towards him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.”

“Why are you admiring me like that, then?”

“Because you’re beautiful. And I love you.”

It’s the first smile...genuine smile...that he’s seen on her face in days. Maybe even weeks. All of the stress and the worry and heartache briefly lifting; lips curving softly, eyes glittering in the soft glow given off by the bedside lamp. And when she rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, he doesn’t hesitate; leaning forward in the chair and taking her hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And in that moment, when she pulls away ever so slowly and her nails skim over his palm and along his fingers, he’s filled with a sense of hope. There’s love in her eyes. A tenderness and affection that nearly takes his breath away.

“I was thinking…” she says, as she scrunches her pillow up under her cheek and wraps both arms around it. “...we should probably add onto the house. We have a lot of space to work with and we’d still have tons of land left over.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking a couple more bedrooms; one for the baby and one for guests. An ACTUAL office considering we’re going to be running a business. Maybe another two or three car garage that we can use to store all the gear and other job related stuff. A bigger and better gym. You’ve been talking about that since we moved in.”

“Whatever you want, baby. Just make a list and we’ll get it done.”

“And Millie and the two T’s are asking for animals. They miss the goats and the chickens. So if we could build something to keep them in…”

“If that’s what they want, I’ll get it done.”

“You’ve very agreeable. Not even a single roll of the eyes or those wrinkles you get when you frown. Are you drunk? Sometimes you’re a very mellow drunk.”

“No. I’m not drunk. I just think it all sounds reasonable. And if that’s what you want to do, we’ll do it. Make a list and we’ll start on things when we get back.”

“I like that you’re being optimistic; about getting out of here and going home. Because you will; get out of here and go home.”

“We’ll know that for sure soon enough.”

“I already know for sure. I know you; I know you’ll stop at nothing to get out of there. You don’t give up. You don’t know the meaning of ‘give up’. And you what else I was thinking?”

“Your brain’s been busy.”

“I was thinking we really should go away. An actual trip. Alone. Just us. I think we deserve it. And need it.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere exotic. Somewhere tropical.”

“You don’t get enough sand and water at home?”

“As much as I love where we are, it’s different when you go away. I was thinking like Bali or Bora Bora or The Maldives. Stay in one of those suites that are built right on the water. That would be nice. AND romantic.”

“Romantic? Have we met?”

“You’re romantic in your own way. You just don’t do grand gestures or make a spectacle out of things. Which makes it even better. Other guys, you know it’s coming. With you, it’s always a surprise. It’s genuine. Just one of the many things I love about you.”

“You gonna make a list of those things, too?”

“If you want me to. If it would cheer up. I’ll do it if it will cheer you up.”

“Your smile is enough to do that. There hasn’t been a lot to smile about lately, has there.”

“It’s been...difficult.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“You look so tired. You sound tired.”

“I am,” Tyler admits. “Tired. In a lot of ways.”

“It’ll get better. When we get home and you see the doctor and they figure out what’s going on with you. Get it all fixed up. It will force you to slow down for a little while. And you need to. Slow down.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m old?”

“I’m insinuating that you’re human. And that you need to step back and let other people bust their asses. It doesn’t have to be you all the time. Just stay home and run things. Delegate. Don’t take everything on yourself. Because you’ll burn out and I don’t want that happening. I know you think I hate you right now. Because of our fight earlier and everything I said.”

“I don’t think you hate me. I think you hate that side of me. The one that’s so fucking weak that he gets sucked back into the same old shit.”

“You’re not weak, Tyler. There’s nothing remotely weak about you. And hate is a strong word. I don’t hate that side. It disappoints me.”

“Okay, you know what? That’s even worse.”

“But I love you. And I just want you better. That’s it. I just want you better. I don’t like seeing you like this. Not just the pain, but everything. I know you’re tired; I know you’re probably ready to just give up. But I need you to keep going. Our kids need you to keep going. Little bean needs that too. It won’t be much longer. It’ll be over soon.”

“I hope so, baby. I really do. Because I don’t know how much more I can take. It’s fucking breaking me down. And that’s what they want. They want to break my mind before they break my body. And it’s working.”

“They know what would hurt you the most,” she concludes. “What WILL break you. Anything to do with me or the kids. They know we’re your weaknesses.”

“Just proves it’s someone close to us. That knows us. Knows me.”

“I’m not ruling Nathan out. There’s something very sketchy about him.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“Do you think it could be Nik? Do you think it’s possible she’s working with him? Maybe they’re more involved than just fuck buddies or whatever she claims they are.”

“I want to say she wouldn’t do something like that, but nothing would surprise me anymore.”

“Just be careful. Err on the side of caution. Assume everyone we know could be in on it. That way no one will take you by surprise.”

He grins. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No. I’m just a paranoid wife. Who’s worried about you. Who loves you. And who really wants you alive and in one piece at the end of all this. Don’t trust anyone.”

“Present company excluded, obviously.”

“Obviously. I mean, you’re the only person I trust.”

“I think I’ve proven a few times that you shouldn’t.”

“Your issues don’t make me trust you any less. Because I know you’d do anything to keep me safe. I never never doubted that. You’re the only one who has ever made me feel safe. I can’t see that ever changing.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know. And I wish I could do the same for you. Protect you.”

“You do. In your own way.”

“Maybe,” she sighs, and rolls over onto her back once more, a hand resting on either side of her bump.

“Could you do me a favour?”

She looks over at him.

“Can you pull your pants up? It’s distracting me.”

Esme grins. “Maybe you need a distraction.”

“Not THAT kind of distraction.”

“I’m offended,” she pouts. “It hurts my feelings that I can pull my pants down and you don’t jump on it. Or me,”

“Trust me, I want to. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m technically on the clock.”

“That’s suddenly a problem? Do I need to remind you about seven years ago? When we were both on the clock?”

“This is different.”

“How?” 

“Because I’m trying to protect you.”

“You were technically supposed to be protecting me then, too.”

“Not the way I am now.”

“You can’t take a few minutes out of your time and oblige me?”

Tyler frowns. “A few minutes? Now I’M offended.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you can spare half an hour. What’s going to happen? You’re RIGHT here. Koen and Rata are downstairs, there’s all kinds of armed guards wandering around. You don’t need to constantly watch over me.”

“Can you please pull your pants up?”

She heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh, then obliges.

“And I DO have to watch over you. They were able to get to Addie and I was right across the hall.”

“So was I,” Esme points out. “I didn’t hear anything either.”

“But I should have. What a fucking time for my instincts to take a dump.”

“You were asleep. Your instincts were at rest. You’re really not blaming yourself, are you? Tell me you don’t think this is your fault. Tell me.”

“I should have heard something. Or at least picked up something before that.”

“Tyler, you have to be kidding me right now. It is in no way your fault. Not in the slightest.”

“Hard not to blame myself.”

“Well stop. You told me not to blame myself.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And neither did you. You were asleep. You didn’t think there’d be a reason to watch over her. So stop…” she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the top, pulling her t-shirt down as she stands and saunters over. “...just stop.”

He grins as she perches herself on his lap, arms circling his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to distract you.” She presses a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and onto his ear, tracing the outer edge with the top of her tongue. “Is it working?”

“Yeah…” His hands grip her hips, pulling her tight against him; raising his hips so she can feel the beginning of his erection straining against his jeans. “...it’s working.”

“Good…” she giggles, and pulls back to look at him. “...I really AM a distraction.”

“Yep. You are.”

“I think you should come to bed. At least for a little while.”

“You know it’ll be longer than five minutes, yeah?”

She grins and presses a kiss to his lips. “It better be.”


	80. Chapter 80

Her body is comforting; the warmth and the familiar weight of it laying atop his own. The feel of her skin pressed against his and the light, yet always alluring scent that lingers in her hair. His fingers more through it now. Slowly and gently combing through the silky, dark tresses; still damp with sweat following an intense and attentive session of love making. It had been so easy to lose himself in the moment. The escape. The sensation of hands and mouths moving over each other’s bodies as they took turns both worshipping and devouring one another. The way her touch alternated between gentle and greedy as her fingers and palms explored every inch of his shoulders, chest, and arms; legs securely wrapped around his waist and her heels pressing into the small of his back. It had been slow and tender at moments; long, soft kisses that saw closed mouth moving upon closed mouth, accompanied by whispers of love and praise. Other times it had been more frantic; a desperation behind aggressive, grabbing hands and tongues battling for dominance and much rougher, dirtier talk. Each minute...each SECOND...had been nothing short of perfection. The taste of her kiss and the digging and scraping of her nails against his skin. The noises that escaped from her mouth; the sound of his name, both soft sighs and whimpers, much louder begging and pleading and then her eventual release. His own had been powerful. His entire body locking up and then shuddering; eyes closed and his forehead pressed against hers as her heels dug into his ass as he emptied himself inside of her. She’d clung to him afterwards; arms tightly wound around his neck while he buried his face in the side of hers. And when he’d pulled back to look at her, there’d been tears in her eyes. There was no way to dismiss what he saw there; the fear and the worry and the anxiety. The realization that -whether it be through his demise or her own- it may very well be the last time they experience that kind of moment together. He’d done what he could to squash those thoughts; softly kissing her and quietly professing his love and adoration; fingertips moving over every inch of her face as if committing it to memory. 

Now he lays on his back with her tightly pressed against him. That warm, supple body spread along his; breasts flattened against his chest, her eyes closed and her lips and the tip of her nose against one side of his jaw as her knuckles repeatedly grazed along the other. The pain hasn’t subsided, but for the time being it isn’t as intense; the three glasses of whisky he’d ended up consuming, the intense orgasm, and the heat radiating from her body all working together to successfully take the edge off his suffering. And he knows he should move; climb out of bed and get dressed and back to business. Despite Rata and Koen being there and heavily armed guards on high alert, she’s still his responsibility; promising nearly seven years ago to always protect her no matter how high the stakes or how extreme the costs. She and the baby growing inside of her are his sole priorities, and he has to keep them safe and get them through the next few days and then back home safe and sound. Even if it means sacrificing himself. Whether physically OR mentally.

“Boy or girl?”

Tyler’s eyes flicker open at the sound of her voice, finding her gazing up at him with her chin resting on his chest. “What?”

Her knuckles continue to brush against his jaw. “Boy or girl? What do you want?”

“I want a healthy baby. And a healthy momma.”

“You say that every time.”

“It’s all that matters to me; that you and the baby are okay.”

“Humour me,” she says, and drags the nail of her index finger down his chin. “Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“You would do that to me. Stack the house with testosterone. Isn’t it sufficient that you have enough testosterone for the entire male population of New South Wales? Do you really have to add more?”

“You’re going to say a girl, aren’t you. So what? Stack the house with estrogen? Thanks.”

“Better than testosterone.”

“I don’t think so. And why would you do that to ME? Another girl?”

“Look buddy, it’s your sperm that decides this. So you really only have yourself to blame. Besides, would another little girl really be that painful? You’re an amazing girl dad; a total study in contradiction. You’re big and strong and you have all those scars and tattoos and you’re so bad ass. Yet there you are, braiding hair and playing Barbies and attending tea parties and glitter stuck in your beard. And you never complain about any of it.”

“Why would I complain? She’s my little girl. Nothing I won’t do for her. Except wear the tiara.”

“She’ll break you yet. Or Addie will, when she’s old enough. Something tells me your little peanut will be able to convince you to do ANYTHING.”

“Well she is just like her mother and you’ve had me wrapped around your baby fingers since day one, so…”

“Do you remember when we found out that Millie was in fact going to be a girl? I thought you were going to have a coronary. You looked so scared.”

“I was scared. Me? Having a girl?”

“What? Did the sins of past transgressions with women come back to haunt you? Make you realize that there’d be guys like you after your daughter when she’s older?”

“That was part of it. It just scared me. The thought of having a girl. I didn’t know anything about raising a girl.”

“You have asked the ultrasound tech three times if she was sure. You were so spooked. But you got over it quick. The second she made her entrance into the world. The way you held her and she looked at you with those big blue eyes. You were a goner. You had your miracle baby.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, and pushes his hands through her hair, moving it off her shoulders. “She IS a miracle. In a lot of ways. I never thought I’d get that chance again; didn’t think I was worthy of being a dad again. And when you think about how she was made and where? During all that fucking craziness? The fact that something could have happened to you and we never would have known we were having her? She’s definitely a miracle.”

“I remember how cute you were while I was pregnant,” Esme muses. “I mean, you’ve been cute and gentle and so sweet with all of them. But with Millie, you were extra...well, you were EXTRA.”

“I was a total newbie. I didn’t get to experience all of that with Austin. I was pretty much gone the entire time she was pregnant with him. And I was in Kuwait when he was born, so I didn’t even get to see that.”

“You were just so adorable. You were always touching my tummy and you’d always talk to her or read to her. And she’d always kick or squirm when she heard your voice. Not that I blame her; it’s a very nice voice.”

Grinning, he tucks her hair behind her ears and then cradles her face in his hands, kissing her softly.

“And you always had the goofiest grin on your face when people would ask about her. That ‘hey, look what I did’ grin. You were so pleased with yourself. Like it was some great achievement; putting a baby in me.”

“At that time it was. Now all five of them are. Well, six. If we count little bean.”

“And you always made sure they gave us pictures at the ultrasound; you’d put every one of them on the fridge. I don’t think I’ve seen a prouder daddy-to-be. And you’ve been like that with every single one.”

“I am proud. I finally did something worthwhile with my life. I finally have things I can brag about. Didn’t have anything to be proud of until Millie came along.”

“I don’t know about THAT. Surviving half a dozen tours in the Middle East is pretty impressive.”

“It was my job. I did what I was told to do. Or what I had to do to survive. Let’s not romanticize it.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she complains. “You know how you always wish I could look at myself the way you do? Well I wish that you could see yourself the way I see you. The way your kids see you. Because we think you’re pretty amazing and we love you. More than you could possibly know. Life would be miserable without you.”

“Well hopefully you guys won’t have to find out just HOW miserable.”

She frowns. “You said we wouldn’t talk about that. That we wouldn’t talk fatalistically. You promised me that. For one night.”

“You’re right. I did promise that. I’m sorry.”

She presses a kiss to his lips. “You’re forgiven. This is some serious deja vu, huh?”

“What is?”

“This. Us in bed like this. When you’re supposed to be working.”

“Well if it wasn’t for you and your uncanny ability at distracting me while I’m working…”

“I will not be blamed for your hormones. It’s not my fault you’re incessantly horny and insatiable.”

“It’s your fault for lying in bed with your pants half down,” he argues.

“You’re so unprofessional, Tyler,” she teases. “You should really be written up. You should not be getting your rocks off on company time.”

“Technically, it’s our company so we can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“That is a very good point. I think I’m going to love being in charge. Does that I mean I get to boss you around sometimes?”

“Like you don’t already?”

“I do not boss you around!” Esme objects. “You wouldn’t let me do that. Boss you around.”

“I think you’re underestimating the power you have. You’ve been bossing me around for about seven years now.”

“Well you must enjoy it. I notice you stick around.”

“It’s not that I enjoy it, it’s that I really enjoy other things so I tolerate the bossiness.”

“When have I bossed you around? Name a time.”

“Four months ago when you made me paint our bathroom purple.”

“I couldn’t do it myself! I was pregnant. And for the record, it’s not purple. It’s mauve.”

“Mauve is a shade of purple.”

“It’s not purple like Barney the Dinosaur or like an eggplant. It’s a very subdued shade.”

“Yeah, a shade of purple.”

“Okay, so that’s ONE time! One time I’ve bossed you around.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tyler chuckles. “It’s been more than one time. Way more than I like to admit, actually.”

“So the big, bad mercenary is whipped. Your secret is safe with me. You can’t be a hard ass all the time, right? You might as well come home and be my bitch.”

“Excuse you? Your bitch?”

“Listen, if I have to be a snack and meal bitch for five kids, you can suck it up and be my bitch once in a while. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“The things I won’t do for you.”

“You do a lot for me,” she smiles, and pecks his lips. “You always have. You always step up and take care of me; no matter how bad you’re feeling or how much pain you’re in or shitty circumstances are. You ALWAYS step up. For me, for the kids. You’re just always there when you need you, without even having to be asked. I appreciate it. And you.”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into him and presses his lips to her brow. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good man,” she says, as she once more places her head upon his chest. “And I’m very lucky. That I even found you.”

“I don’t know; I think I’m the lucky one. If you hadn’t have taken the job with Nik, if you hadn’t been on the bridge that day…”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I wouldn’t have what I have now. I’d be dead. I wouldn’t have gotten a second chance or the opportunity to fix my shit. And I wouldn’t have this life; you, my kids. And when I think about them or you not existing…”

“But we do. Exist.”

“Yeah, because you took the job. You could have taken one look at me and saw what a mess I was and said ‘fuck it’ and turned it down. But you didn’t. And now look. Look where we are.”

She scowls. “Yeah, back in Dhaka.”

“That’s NOT what I meant. I meant look where we are as in us. As a couple. We’ve come a hell of a long way since the first time we were here.”

“And since that little apartment in Sydney,” she muses.

“Seems like so long ago. Longer than seven years, that’s for sure.”

“We’ve been through a lot since then,” she reasons. “But I like where we’ve ended up.”

“Yeah,” he runs a hand over her hair and down her back, settling it at her tailbone. “So do I.”

Tyler relaxes once more as she settles against him; his knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine, the fingers of his hand softly tracing random patterns on her shoulder and down her arm. It feels so good; being with her, The way her hair tickles his face and chest and how her warm, soft breath wafts against his skin. It’s the quiet, unassuming moments of intimacy that he sometimes enjoys the most. When they connect through something other than sex. There’s a bond between him that he can’t even begin to explain. Something so powerful and seemingly unbreakable that began on that bridge seven years ago.

“What do you think you would have been?” Esme asks, once more breaking the silence. “If you had never one into the military?”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“Away from my father.”

“You must have had a dream. Something you wanted to do.”

“Well the unrealistic side of me wanted to be a professional surfer or football player. The realistic side of me always went back and forth between a cop and a firefighter.”

“I could see you being either of those. I mean, you’re big and strong. Athletic. And you have no damn fear.”

“Believe me, I have a lot of those. I just don’t tell you about them.”

“You would have made a really good policeman. In that uniform? All intimidating with your eyes and your take no shit attitude. You could have told me to assume the position and I would have obliged right away.”

He chuckles at that.

“A cop or fireman are both very fitting for you,” Esme concludes. “They’ve both got that edge; high intensity at times. That danger. Definitely good jobs for you. Or a construction worker. I could see you in construction. In a pair of well worn jeans and no shirt and all sweaty and tanned.” She sighs dreamily.

“Is that your fantasy?”

“Baby, you ARE my fantasy. I don’t need to imagine anything other than what I already have.”

“You’re really good for my self esteem, you know that?”

“How a man that looks like you has self esteem issues, I will never know. But you’re perfect the way you are. At least to me.”

“Even with all the scars?”

“They’re part of who you are. Where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through, what you’ve survived. I don’t like the stories behind most of them, but I love YOU. And they’re part of you, so…”

Smiling, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “What about you? What would you have done? If you’d stayed in college?”

“I would have probably changed my major. Maybe went into English Lit or something like that.”

“I was NOT expecting that.”

“You thought for sure I was going to say teacher or nurse, didn’t you.”

“Well you did mention teacher once. And you did a damn good job of nursing me back to health seven years ago. And your sponge baths are second to none.”

She giggles. “You only think that because you got special treatment during your sponge baths.”

“You were very good to me. And so were your hands. Sometimes even your mouth.”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs. “I hope you know that if I had been a nurse, I would NOT have given that kind of treatment to all my patients.”

“Just tall Australian guys with muscles and blue eyes?”

“They would have to have an amazing ass and the stamina of a God, too.”

“And you say I put YOU on a pedestal.”

“You’re worthy of your pedestal. But yeah; I would have gone into English Lit. Or maybe psychology. But I did have one long standing dream when I was young. Sometimes I even still think about it.”

“Yeah? What’s the dream?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“You might think it’s funny.”

“Try me.”

“I’ve always wanted to own a bookstore.”

Tyler glances down at her.

“Weird, right?”

“No, it’s not weird. I’m just surprised. It’s the first I’ve heard about it in seven years.”

“I’ve never had a reason to talk about it. It was just a silly dream. Or at least it was until we got back to Australia and I got a look at all the little shops in town. They’re quaint and they’re cute and it’s such a nice, picturesque area. It makes me think of my little bookstore whenever we’re there.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know; it’s silly. Tell me it’s silly.”

“I don’t think it’s silly at all. I think it’s a nice idea.”

“And not just any bookstore, either. Not one of those stuffy, uptight kinds. But where people can come in and relax; cozy chairs and tables to sit at and a place where they can buy baked goods and other treats and get something to drink. With a fireplace and an awesome kids section; bean bag chairs and aquariums with fish and turtles. And a sensory area for kids with special needs. It would be bright and cheerful; lots of windows and natural light. And a little garden out back where people sit and get fresh air if they want.”

“Wow…” he grins. “...you’ve really thought about it.”

“Just a dream. I had it all figured out when I was ten. I mean, I’ve added ideas through the years. I even made a floor plan when I was fourteen.”

“What did you call it?”

“It’s never had a name. I could never come up with one.”

“How come you never did it?”

“A lot of things went to shit after my dad died and my mom got even MORE toxic. Life went in a different direction. And then I met Mark and…” she shrugs. “...well we know how THAT turned out. I brought it up once to him; he thought it was stupid.”

“HE was stupid.”

“Among other things. You don’t think it’s stupid?”

“No. I think it’s pretty cool, actually. And if you wanted to do it, we could make it happen.”

“It was just a dream.”

“Doesn’t HAVE to be just a dream. If it’s something you want to do…”

“Don’t enable me, Tyler. You’re supposed to be the one talking me out of these things.”

“No, I’m supposed to be the one encouraging you to do things.”

“Have you been listening to Barack Obama’s podcast again? Was he giving one of his talks about treating Michelle like the queen she is?”

“I don’t need him to encourage me to treat my wife like a queen. And if something you want to do...the bookstore…”

“I’m too busy raising five little kids right now; in five or six months, there’s going to be a new baby in the house. And we already have a business, remember?”

“You could still have one of your own and help with the other one.”

“Baby, I love you so much for wanting this for me, but we both know now is not a good time. We’re having another baby; that’ll be six kids under seven. I won’t have time to do anything extra. And I’m happy the way things are right now. Maybe when they’re all in school and you’re gone a lot. It would give me something to do and I won’t be so lonely.”

“So ask you again in another few years,” he concludes.

“You’ll forget in a few years.”

“Esme, I don’t forget anything when it comes to you. I still remember what you were wearing when you showed up at the shack, and that was almost seven years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. And I remember every bit of every conversation we had during those five days.”

Her lower lip and chin begin to wobble. “Don’t make me cry, Tyler James. I’ve cried enough today.”

“I remember how I promised I’d never make you cry. I fucked that up pretty good, didn’t I.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve made me smile and laugh more than you’ve made me cry.”

Smiling, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into a kiss; long and deep, her body sliding along his she reaches up to curl her arms around his neck. “I should get dressed,” he says, and rubs the tip of his nose against hers.

“No. You shouldn’t. In fact, it should be illegal for you to ever wear clothes.”

“Man, your hormones ARE going crazy.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that I find my husband amazingly sexy. That I can’t get enough of him. Maybe you should have been uglier if you didn’t want me objectifying you so much.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered with me if I was uglier.”

“That’s a fair point.”

“I really should get dressed.”

She pouts dramatically.

“I’m sorry. But I am working.”

“We’re in the same room. What is going to happen to me when you’re THIS close by?”

“I should at least have pants on if the shit hits the fan.”

“If you leave them off, you’d defeat them with sheer humiliation. Or maybe seeing you naked would turn them on and they’d be so uncomfortable with it, they’d just leave.”

Smoothing her hair away from her face, he keeps it clasped in his hands and presses a kiss to her lips. “You’re weird.”

“Maybe. But you secretly enjoy my weirdness. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have hung in for seven years. You either like it, or you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe it’s a bit of both,” he teases. 

“You definitely enjoy it. That’s why we have five ids. And one on the way. You enjoy it a little too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much. And as much as I want to stay here like this all night…” he pecks her lips and runs his palms along her arms. “...you need to get off me.”

“Fine.” She gives another pout and then rolls off him and onto her side; elbow on the mattress and the side of her head in her palm. Watching him with a mix of admiration, appreciation, and lust as he slides out of bed and begins gathering up long discarded clothing. “Baby, you are so sexy.”

Tyler grins. “And you call me biased?”

“It’s the truth,” she declares, then laughs when the shirt he tosses her way lands on top of her head. “Walking sex. That’s what you are. Which is another reason we have so many kids. That and you have very determined swimmers. Not even birth control or a vasectomy could stop those suckers! And don’t you dare say it…” she slips the tee over her head. “...or I WILL throat punch you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I could take you. And you know it.”

“Mmm…hmmm…” He clips the holster and gun to his hip, then stands at the side of the bed, hands gentle as they rest on the side of her face; tilting it up towards him. “I love you.”

“I know.” She presses her lips to his heavily calloused palm. “I’ve never once doubted it. And I love you, too. So much.”

He kisses her. So soft and so tender it brings tears to her eyes.

****

The text comes at ten in the morning as they lounge on the couch in the living room; half eaten plates of breakfast resting in their laps. It’s nothing more than numbers on the screen, a simple yet effective message that opens the gateway to the path that leads home. And she hurriedly sets her plate on the coffee table and scrambles to gather a notebook and pen; uncapping the latter with her teeth as she clicks dials the number provided and then places the phone on her thigh and the call on speaker.

“You don’t know how to mind your own business,” a male voice scolds in way of greeting.

“And you don’t know how to play fair,” Esme retorts. “Taking the wife and kid of a man who died seven years ago? Threatening another woman and her children? That’s pretty low; even for bottom dwellers like you.”

“Mouthy. Typical western woman. Nothing that a good backhand wouldn’t fix. Perhaps we should teach your husband a thing or two; about how to control his woman and teach her how to respect men.”

“You can kick a dog to make it stay, but it stays out of fear, not respect. And I’m not speaking to a man right now; I’m speaking to a boy. A cowardly little boy. Because no man would sink to what you have. A man...a REAL man...wouldn’t idolize trash like Amir Asif.”

“You keep that name out of your mouth,” he growls. “You keep it out of your whore mouth.”

“You know what, fuck you buddy,” Tyler snaps. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that. You may talk to your girl like that, but don’t EVER talk to mine like that.”

The man on the other end of the line chuckles. “I should have known you’d be listening. Always the protector. How have you been enjoying the games? We made them up. Just for you.”

“How about you meet me in person and I show you a whole new game,” Tyler suggests. “That kind that ends with me putting you in the fucking ground.”

Esme reaches out and lays a comforting hand on the back of his neck, repeatedly squeezing.

“You object? To our games? You object to her being called a whore? Isn’t that what she was? When you first met? Your whore?”

“I will fucking kill you. I will find you and rip you apart with my bare fucking hands. You hear me? I’ll…”

“Enough with the games,” Esme orders into the phone. “They’re not clever, they’re not cute. They’re ridiculous and they’re boring and they scream of desperation. We don’t intimidate easily. If at all. So how about you knock this shit off and we get down to business. The people we’re working for are willing to meet your demands; twenty five million dollars for the woman and the boy. You can keep the mercenary; we don’t want him. He’s damaged goods now. And you can tell him I said that.”

“You don’t want your own man? Your own employee? That’s cold.”

“We know he’s in on it. We know he’s working for Mahajan. That you’re using him as bait. You really don’t think we’re stupid, do you? You’re not dealing with street thugs; we’ve been in this business for a long time. We’ve seen and heard it all. From bigger and better. We were able to get Ovi Mahajan out. And we killed Amir Asif in the end. So your threats and your games mean nothing. They’re not scary. They’re laughable.”

“You won’t be finding it very funny if we get to your children, will you. That won’t be so laughable, will it.”

“I will fucking kill you and everyone you love,” Tyler fumes. “I will hunt every last one of your relatives down and make you watch while I put a bullet in each of their brains. And then I’ll fucking drown you in their blood. And that’s a promise.”

Another chuckle. “You act and talk so tough. But it only took one of us to bring you down last time. And you should have done everyone a favour and died on that bridge. In the end, you needed a woman to come to your rescue. To fight your battles. Now THAT’S pathetic.”

“Do you want the money or not?” Esme inquires. “Twenty five million. For the woman and the kid.”

“You know what we really want. WHO we want.”

“And I made it very clear that that is non negotiable. You won’t get that. You won’t get HIM. That offer got left on the table and died there. Twenty five million dollars. Take it or leave it.”

“And if we agree to take it?”

“I want proof of life, and I want it today. Within the next few hours. And it has to be current; today’s date and time stamp. You try and fuck me on this, and I will send a whole army to take you and your friends down. Because I have that power. I have the power and the money and the resources to do it. Do you really want to test me?”

“You’re not able to do that,” the man scoffs. “Bring us down.”

“Oh, I DO have that power. I can get it all done with one phone call. You really didn’t think we’d be in this alone, did you? That it would just be the two of us? You have no idea the amount of people I have at my disposal. Or the weapons or the tech. I’m in charge here, not you. How do you know I haven’t traced this call and already have snipers with you in their crosshairs? You have no idea what I can do. So fuck you and your games. You want the money or not?”

A heavy sigh. “Thirty.”

“No,” she refuses. “Twenty five. That was your original demand and that’s all you’re getting. Not a single goddamn cent more. I don’t take orders from you. I don’t take orders from ANYONE. And I especially don't take them from gutter rats. Twenty five. Take it or fuck off.”

“You want proof of life?”

“The deal won’t happen if I don’t get it. You’ll get nothing but a death sentence. I want a video. A live one.”

“You want to see them with your own two eyes?”

“That’s EXACTLY what I want.”

“You can have that. Under one condition..”

She snorts. “You don’t give me conditions, kiddo. That’s not how this works.”

“Do you want your friends alive or dead? It’s up to you. Do you want their blood on your hands?”

Tyler leans into her, lips pressed to her ear. “Ask what they want.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll play. Just this once. What’s your condition? Humour me.”

“You can have proof of life, but only in person.”

“Fuck no,” Tyler whispers harshly. “Tell him to go fuck himself. You’re not doing that.”

“Fine,” she ignores him, and her husband glares at her and sighs in exasperation, then springs up from the couch and rakes both hands through his hair before pacing the floor. “Tell me where to go. Give me the address.”

“Do you think WE’RE stupid? That we’d just give you the address and then you’d send your people there? You come here, to where we are, and we take you there. Blindfolded. So you can’t see where we are talking.”

“Tell them no,” Tyler orders. “Tell them no and to shove it up their ass.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she addresses the man on the phone. “That’s a setup. You want me there so you can grab me and hold me hostage because that will bait my husband. You really do underestimate me, don’t you. I don’t go anywhere alone. If I agree, someone goes with me.”

“You bring him. Your husband.”

“Nope. It won’t be him. So you can grab BOTH of us? Or kill him on sight? I won’t play these games. I’ll come, but I’m not bringing him. Someone else, but NOT him.”

“Then he keeps his distance. If any of my people see him even remotely close by, we kill you. No hesitation. Understand?”

“Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Amir Asif’s house. You come here, we take you to see your friends. Simple as that. I give you my word that no harm will come to you.”

“Your word means shit,” Tyler speaks up. “Tell us where they are. Or I will grab all of you one by one and find ways to make you talk. I’ve got all the time and the rage in the world, believe me.”

“We haven’t hurt her or your children yet, have we? But we COULD. I think we’ve shown that; no? With the baby? She really is the cutest little thing. Such an adorable smile. And your other daughter? So pretty. Blond hair and blue eyes. We could keep her for a few years; she’d make a good child bride.”

“You fucking asshole!” Tyler storms across the room and snatches the phone from Esme’s thigh; hands trembling as he takes the cell off speaker and presses it to his ear. “ I will fucking hunt you down...every last one of you...I will fucking torture you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. Then I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, stop, and then torture you all over again. And maybe I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. If you’re lucky.”

“She has six hours; to make up her mind. She hasn’t decided by then, we will kill all three of them. And then we’ll kill your children. One by one.”

“You fucking prick. How about you man up and you meet ME face to face. Or are you that much of a coward?”

“Six hours,” the other man insists, then disconnects the call.

“Motherfucker!” Tyler roars, and tosses the phone onto the couch; slamming into the cushions with enough force that the cell bounces violently and hits the floor. The rage is intense; his entire body drawn tight and trembling, fists tightly clenched and jaw painfully set. And he can hear the rush of blood in his head; feels the throbbing of the surgically repaired vein in his neck.

“Okay...Tyler…” Esme’s on her feet, rushing to him and laying her hands on his chest; palms moving slowly and soothingly over the expanse of hard muscle and the fabric of his shirt. “...you need to calm down...you need to breathe...just breathe…”

“You heard what he said?”

“I heard. I heard every word.”

“That’s my daughter.”

“She’s my daughter too. I heard what he said. And it’s vile and it’s evil and it’s disturbing. But he said it to get to you; to fuck with you. Break your brain, then break your body, right? Don’t let them do it. Don’t let them win.”

“That’s my little girl…” he speaks through ragged gulps of air, tears of both rage and fear streaming down his face. “..if they get to her….”

“It’s just words. That’s all it is. They won’t touch her. In the same way they didn’t touch Addie. They’re doing this to break you. And you can’t let them, okay? You can’t. I need you to calm down. Just to try to breathe, okay?”

“I can’t...I can’t breathe...I can’t…”

“You’re really close to having a panic attack and I won’t be able to get you out of it. Can you at least sit down, please?”

He nods, and she grabs a hold of the front of his shirt and yanks him towards the couch. Waiting until he drops down onto it to lay a hand on the back of his head; encouraging him to place it between his knees. “You need to breathe, Tyler. Just breathe.”

She leaves him momentarily, rushing for the box of meds in the kitchen; hastily dumping them onto the counter before selecting the bottle she wants. Then returns to the living room with several small, white pills cradled in her palm.

“Take them,” she gently orders, then places her hand over his lips. Forcing the pills into his mouth and then grabbing a now lukewarm mug of coffee from the table and using it as a chaser. “It’ll pass,” she confidently assures him. “Just try and relax.”

His eyes are closed as he rests his forehead against her, and she drops a kiss on the top of his head; gently stroking his hair and his ears and the back of his neck. Feeling the way his body slowly begins to relax as the meds act quickly; a strong force combined with the comfort -and security- she effectively provides him with. And when the tension and the rage finally release, he begins to sob. His entire body shaking, arms wrapped tightly around her slender waist.

“It will be over soon,” Esme promises, her voice quivering with emotion. “It’ll all be over soon.”


	81. Chapter 81

“I don’t know if he can do this. If he SHOULD do this.”

Esme and Koen stand in the kitchen, speaking in harsh whispers while keeping the stairs in full view; desperately wanting to avoid any unwelcome intrusions or Tyler surprising them with his arrival. An hour before he’d gone upstairs to ‘get his shit together’, and when she’d gone to check on things, had found him sprawled in the middle of the bed. Fast asleep on his stomach with both of his arms wrapped tightly around a bunched up pillow. Yet there’d been no semblance of peace in either his body or his face; shoulders still tense and jaw tightly clench, deep furrows visible across his brow and lips firmly set in a grimace. A mixture of both physical and emotional suffering. A moment of rest that would be fleeting. Nothing more than mental collapse as opposed to real sleep; brain plagued by vivid and vile images brought on by the words of Asif’s people. It is a heartbreaking thing to witness: someone big and powerful -and so accustomed to being everyone else’s rock- having his own mental break; so vulnerable and on the verge of total collapse. A lesser man would have crumbled long ago; succumbing to both physical and mental torment. The initial and escalating threats against his family, being jumped and drugged and having your already extensive and painful injuries targeted in order to weaken you. Having to be subjected to vicious and brutal mind games; your enemy attempting to cripple you emotionally in order to torture your body. The phone call had been the breaking point. A man that’s already been through so much simply unable to take anything more.

“You’re not usually the one that gives up on him so easily,” Koen remarks.

“I’m not giving up on him. I’m trying to save him. Don’t you see what this is doing to him? What it’s already DONE to him?”

“Maybe he should have stayed on the pills Or least cut back on them; take just enough to curb the pain, but not enough to completely fuck him up.”

“I never told him to get rid of them. I just wanted him to use them responsibly because I didn’t want him becoming what he was before. WHO he was before. You know how bad he was, Koen. You saw it; long before I ever came along. You sat back and you watched it for years. You saw him get worse and worse. You knew he was an addict before I ever came into the picture.”

“I didn’t just sit back and let him get worse,” Koen argues. “I tried. Rata and I both tried. But you know what he's like; how damn stubborn he is. The only time he does something is when he’s goddamn go and ready So if you’re blaming me…”

“I’m not blaming anyone. But you know as well as I do how bad things can get. You’ve seen it first hand. Many times. What was I supposed to do? Just turn a blind eye to it and pretend it wasn’t happening? Or just hope and pray he wouldn’t get any worse? That he wouldn’t turn into someone I wouldn’t even recognize? Was I just supposed to keep my mouth shut and let another addiction try and destroy him?”

“Of course not. Of course you weren’t supposed to just stand and watch. But…”

“Tyler admitted that he couldn’t be trusted to have those pills anywhere near him. It was already to the point that he couldn’t stop. Do you know how much worse it could have gotten if he was already at that point? I never told him to stop taking the pills. He chose me over them. And trust me, I feel like shit for it. Because I know he’s suffering; I know it’s the worst it’s ever been and he doesn’t know how much more he can take. What am I supposed to do? I am all out of ideas. I don’t know how to help him.”

“We just have to let him deal with it on his own, I guess. He knows how much his own body can take.”

Esme frowns. “I’m not just talking about his body. I’m talking about his mind. You saw what he was like; you walked in and you saw with your own two days how overwhelmed and stressed he is. Have you ever seen him that bad?”

“No,” Koen sadly admits. “Not that bad.”

“You didn’t hear what they said. About me, about Addie, about Millie. You know the bond he has with Millie; how strong and unique it is. That’s his little girl. His second chance. And he had to listen to THAT? Her being called pretty and how they’d hold onto her for a few years and how she’d make a good child bride? Tyler had to hear that! Think of what it put in his head! All the things they didn’t say but you know they’d damn well do to her. He had to hear that about his own daughter. Do you know what that did to him?”

“They’re just words,” Koen reasons. “Shit they’re saying just to fuck with him. They’ve been doing it since day one; fucking with his brain. He should know by now that they’re just empty threats.”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re empty threats or not. That’s his little girl. And these people know what weaknesses to prey on. Just like they knew exactly what parts of his body to target. They know he fears losing his family; that anything happening to me or the kids will break him. And it’s working! Don’t you see that? Little by litter they’re breaking him to the point there won’t be anything left. They want him to lose it mentally; break his brain, then his body. That’s what they want and they’re well on their way to getting it!”

“He didn’t seem that bad when I walked on in things. He seemed like he was calming down and…”

“You came in at the tail end of it. You didn’t see the whole thing. I did. And I have seen Tyler when he’s in that dark, horrible place. I’ve seen it more than once. I was the one that was there when he tried to commit suicide. TWICE. I’m the one that had to admit him to the psych ward so specialists could figure out what was wrong with him. You know he has PTSD and you know he can’t control it when it gets triggered. And that’s what they’re doing. INTENTIONALLY. And all those meds he was taking? They make PTSD worse. And maybe if he was thinking rationally, he would have been able to brush off what they said about Millie; maybe he would have been able to just ‘take it from the source’. But there is nothing rational about his brain right now.”

“Esme, you’re overreacting. You’re…”

“Don’t even go there with me!” she hisses. “You didn’t see how bad he got. I did. And I haven’t seen him that bad in a long time and it scared the shit out of me! Because this is destroying him and I don’t want to lose him to this. Physically OR mentally.”

“You really think he can’t handle it? Getting this all done?”

“Honestly, no. I don’t think he can. Maybe he could manage from a physical standpoint; doctors can fix his body. But I don’t think he can mentally handle it. And if he breaks that bad...a psychotic break...they might never be able to get him back from that. So he survives, body wise. But I lose him anyway. And so do the kids. They need him. I need him. And if he has to walk away from this to save himself…”

“You know he won’t,” Koen says. “You know he won’t walk away. He doesn’t know how to walk away.”

“So what do I do? I just let him go out there and do it? Pretend I don’t care what happens to him. I care. I care a hell of a lot. And I can’t let this destroy him. At least not anymore than it already has. And now we have less than five hours to figure out what we’re going to do. Because they’re expecting me to call with an answer. I can’t get proof of life if I don’t go there; to Asif’s house. That’s the only way I’ll know for sure if Neysa and Aarev are still alive.”

“What about taking him with you? If he’s with you…”

“They will kill him on sight. They won’t give him a chance to even get one shot off. They'll either kill him right away, or they’ll grab both of us and they’ll force him to watch while they do God knows what to me before they kill me. THEN they’ll kill him.”

Sighing heavily, Koen leans back against the island and runs a hand over his weary, unshaven face. 

“And they said if he doesn’t come with me, he has to stay away. That if they see him anywhere close by, they’ll kill me. No hesitation.”

“You know he won't let you go alone. Or with anyone OTHER than him.”

“Then what do I do? I have to make a decision. I can’t just sneak out of the house and go on my own. That will destroy my marriage and I’m not throwing my life away for anyone. If I have to sacrifice Neysa and Aarev to save my marriage, I’ll do it. I’ll leave them there. I won’t choice BUT to leave them there.”

“What about Anil?” Koen asks. “Or Nik? Can either of them help out?”

“And who would replace them? Nik is at the house helping keep the kids safe. Anil is getting ready to take out Mahajan. We have to work with what we have. WHO we have. We don’t have a choice.” 

“There has to be another way. To get proof of life and find out where they’re being held. There has to be.”

“You don’t think I’ve already exhausted every idea, big and small ? It’s the only me; me going there. That’s it.”

“He’s not going to go for that. Not even if there is someone going with you. He doesn’t trust anyone with you.”

“He trusts you. You went into the city with me. You saved my ass on the bridge. Tyler trusts you. I trust you.”

Koen heaves another sigh, then moves towards the bottle of whisky that sits on top of the fridge. “You really think you can take their word on this?” he asks, as he snags a clean glass from the drain board and fills it to near brim. “That you can believe them when they say they won’t hurt you?”

“Of course I don’t think that or believe that. But there’s not a lot of options, is there.”

“What is stopping them from grabbing both of us? I’m one guy; I can only do so much. And if there’s a bunch of them and they’re all armed, I don’t stand a chance of protecting me OR you. So they snatch us both, kill me because I don’t really serve a purpose, and then use you as bait to get Tyler to show up? They know he’ll come for you. You’re the big prize; you’re the one thing that he could lose that would kill him. And they know that.”

“Well I can’t go there alone because that would destroy him. And even if I DID survive, it would destroy US. Because he would never, ever trust me again. I can’t go behind his back. I can’t. I can’t hurt him like that. I’m trying to protect him, not hurt him.”

“You can’t protect him, kiddo. He’s a grown man. He’s not a kid. He doesn’t need you protecting him.”

“So I just send him to his death? I bring him with me and let them kill him? Do you realize what they would do? They would make him watch them rape me and do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to me BEFORE killing me. And if he’s lucky, they’d kill him right away after that. IF he’s lucky. And you know they wouldn’t go easy on him. You know that.”

“Maybe he was onto something. With Plan B.”

Esme scowls. “Fuck Plan B. We’re going to pretend Plan B doesn’t even exist. He is NOT offering himself up to them. He’s not. I won’t let him. I won’t…”

“You can’t…”

“I can’t what? Stop him? Protect him?”’

“Control him. You can’t control him.”

“I’m not trying to control him! I’m trying to keep him alive. And maybe I can’t stop him; maybe I can’t protect him. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. That is my husband up there!” she gestures wildly towards the stairs. “That is…” she chokes on the words, then crosses her arms over her chest and looks away as the tears finally trickle down her cheeks. They’ve been threatening their escape or over an hour now; originally fighting them back when he’d buried his face in her stomach and desperately clung to her as he openly sobbed. Then battling them once more as she stood at the side of the bed and watched him sleep. Her heart shattering at the pain and the anger etched across every inch of his face; the fear and the horror of the situation hounding him even as he rested. “...that is my husband,” she finally continues. “The father of my children. My best friend! My protector! My everything. And you can say I’m trying to baby him or trying to control him. But I’m not. I’m just trying to love him. That’s all I’m trying to do. And if maybe you gave that much of yourself to someone...if you devoted your entire life and heart to them...you’d understand.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t…”

“Do you not see what this is doing to him? When this all started, I made him promise that he’d walk away if it threatened to break him. And it IS breaking him. How much should he have to take? He’s not invincible Koen. He’s not a fucking robot. And I know you look at him like he’s weak because he has the problems he does. But he is so far from weak. He is strong and he’s brave and does battle with his own brain every goddamn day. People look at him and they see his size and the scars and the tattoos and they’re intimidated by him. They think he’s nothing but a hard ass. But they don’t know him. Not like I do. And you can’t tell me you don’t see what this is doing to him!”

“I DO see it. But I also know what it will do to him if he walks away and that woman and her kid die. I know that will haunt him for the rest of his life. That it’ll stick with him and he’ll never be at peace. And that’ll lead to a whole other host of problems.”

“So what do I do? Sit back and watch it break him? I can’t do that. I can’t. I didn’t lose him to Dhaka the first time and I’m sure as hell not losing him to Dhaka now.”

“You need to give him a chance, kiddo. Let him get his head sorted. Let him get his feet back under him. He always bounces back, you know that.”

“How much more can one person take? They’re using his fears against him. His body can take a lot, but his brain? That’s what I worry most about.”

“Just give him a chance,” Koen implores. “He deserves that much. I know you’re worried and scared. I am too. But we need to trust him and have faith in him.”

“That’s NOT what this is about. I’m not losing him or trust in him. I LOVE him. He’s the love of my life. And I can’t just sit back and watch this kill him. I can’t.”

“If it gets worse...if I see any more of what I walked in on...I’ll be the first one to help you talk him out of this, I promise. But right now let’s hang back and wait and see what his next move is. We owe that to him. Let’s not count him out just yet.”

She leans back against the railing to the stairs, then rakes her hand through her hair as she sighs heavily. “And this other thing? Going to Asif’s house? I need to give them an answer in five hours. I am NOT giving them Tyler. They’re not getting him. So we need to come up with a way around that. There’s no plan B. Fuck plan B.”

“We’ll think of something,” Koen assures her “Something we’ll ALL survive.”

*****

When she returns to the bedroom an hour later, it’s with a plate of freshly made pasta in each hand and two bottles of water tucked under an arm. She finds him awake; hair mussed from sleep as he stands at the side of the bed, clipping the holster back onto his hip.

“What are you doing?” she inquires. Gently and curiously. Keeping any frustration, judgment, or concern from creeping into her voice.

“Going back to work.” There’s no emotion evident on his face or in his voice; tone flat and even. The furrows are gone from his brow and his jaw long loosened and relaxed, but his eyes are impossibly dark. Empty.

“You know, you ARE allowed some down time. You’re not the only here that can keep an eye on things. There’s a lot of people; a lot of firepower. I think they can manage without you for a bit.”

“I already took some down time. You know I can’t sit still for long.”

“Well you can sit still for a little while more. Koen made enough spaghetti to feed an entire army. You need to eat. Can’t run on an empty tank, right? And besides; I really hate eating alone. Can you spare just a few more minutes? For little old me? Please? Happy wife, happy life, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitches; the start of a small smile playing on his lips. And laying hand on her hip, leans down to kiss her; lips light and feathery as against her own. Palm sliding to the small of her back as he pulls her into him, forehead briefly resting against hers before he pulls away.

“You sleep okay?” Esme aks, as he takes both plates from her and she dumps the bottles of water onto the bed before climbing onto it.

“Alright, I guess.”

“You must have needed it. A little cat nap. Remember how you used to always fall asleep on the hammock? At our place in Telluride? The second you laid down, you were out. I still have that one picture; you fast asleep with four little ones napping on you.”

“That seems like a long time ago. A hell of a long time ago.”

“We didn’t even know about Addie yet. And now she’s almost four months. Still so tiny though. She probably always will be. The odd one out.”

“I don’t know; I think Declan might have that title. With that hair of his.”

“Remember when we first moved back to Australia and we had all the kids in town with us and someone asked if we adopted him because of his hair? It was just so random; I was too busy laughing to be offended. I’m pretty sure we didn’t adopt him. I quite clearly remember giving birth to a toddler.”

Tyler hands her the plates of food and joins her on the bed, sitting facing her. “He wasn’t THAT big.”

“He was ten pounds, five ounces. And I gave birth to him naturally. In my own home.”

“I was so proud of you. I mean, I’m proud of you every time. But that? That was something else.”

“You were the real MVP of that night. Did you ever think you’d ever do something like that? Deliver your own child?”

“Not in a million years.”

“You were so good. You were so calm and in control. You didn’t freak out once. I was a total wreck and you just held it together. I was proud of you, too. You were pretty amazing yourself. It’s weird how you nearly pass out in a delivery room but you can do THAT.”

“Trust me; I was dying on the inside. Not like I really had a choice, right? He was coming whether I wanted to do it or not. Wouldn’t have done either of you any good if I’d fainted. And I know this is probably going to make me sound like an asshole, but I never want to do that again. Once was enough.”

Esme smirks. “Pretty gross, huh?”

“Just a little.”

“Weird how you can kill two people...pretty gruesomely...with a garden rake, but you can’t watch a baby being born without getting lightheaded and nauseous.”

“That’s different. I don’t have ties to the people I will. You’re my wife; I’m seeing you in all that pain and there’s blood and all kinds of other gross shit coming out of you and…” he shudders at the mere thought. “...and it’s just not ice. The end result is. But it’s not nice while it’s happening.”

“Well you did amazing. I was proud of you. I still am. For a lot of different reasons.”

The smile he gives now is a little brighter. A little broader. And he leans across the small void between them, pressing a kiss to her forehead before taking one of the plates of food for her and settling down to eat. She tries to be obvious that she’s watching him, eagerly digging into her own meal while noticing the way he pushes his around plate. That brief smile he’d shown has quickly faded; lips settling into something more sad and troubled. Eyes darkening once more and his shoulders slumping. But it gives her some comfort when he does begin to eat; sighing heavily before popping the first bit of food into his mouth. And they sit across from one another in companionable silence; knees touching, the faint chewing and the scrap of cutlery against china plates the only sounds in the room.

“Tyler...are you…?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Losing my cool during that phone call. Letting them get to me like that. You had everything under control and I blew it. I let them get under my skin. Almost ruined the whole thing.”

“Anyone would have reacted the way you did. Someone talking to your wife like that, saying things about your children.”

“I’m not just anyone, am I.”

“You’re a human being. You’re a husband and a father. And what you had to hear…”

“I’m proud of you; for how you dealt with it. You didn’t even react. You just handled shit.”

“I wasn’t handling it very well on the inside, believe me. And I wish I could say that those are the worst things I’ve been called and the worst things I’ve heard, but they weren’t. Not by a long shot. I had to learn a long time ago how to control myself. Even when I am dying on the inside.”

“Well you’re a bigger and stronger person than I am. Because I fucking lost it. I could have blown everything. And maybe I did.”

“You’ve never really had to deal with this part of things,” Esme reasons. “I’m used to it, remember? No one is going to fault you for reacting the way you did. Those were horrible things you had to hear. About me, about your little girls.”

“I thought I could shut it off. That side of me. I thought I could just think and act like a mercenary. And I’ve tried doing that; I really tried. But I can’t do it. I can’t just turn off that side of me. Not when it’s that personal.”

“No one expects that from you. No one thinks you can just stop being a husband and a father. So you shouldn’t expect that from yourself, either.”

“I’m still sorry. That I let myself get out of hand. I shouldn’t have jeopardized shit like that.”

“You didn’t jeopardize anything. They were baiting you, Tyler. They knew what to say to get to you.”

“And I let them. Get to me. I’ve been letting it get to me right from day one.”

“Because it’s your family they’re going after,” she reasons. “Because it’s your wife they’re talking to and it’s your children they’re threatening. I’d be more worried if you DIDN’T react the way you did. That would have concerned me. But this is your family and you love your family and that's why it got to you. Cut yourself some slack. Please?”

“I wish you didn’t have to see it...see ME...like that.”

“You mean at the end?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you.”

He nods. 

“Why? Why are you embarrassed? Especially with me. You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. You should know that by now.”

“I just hate it. Being that way.”

“Being emotional?”

He lifts his chin from his chest, eyes locking on hers. “Being weak.”

“You are NOT weak. There is nothing weak about you. There never have been. It takes a strong man to cope with what you’ve been dealing with since this all started. A weaker person would have given up a long time ago; the second they were jumped and drugged. That would have been it for them. But you fought back and you keep fighting back and you never bend and you never break. That’s strength. REAL strength. So don’t you ever look at me again and call yourself weak. Because I will shut you down so fast and prove you wrong.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You’re a tough little shit, you know that?”

“I’ve had to be. Putting up with the likes of you for so long,” she teases. “You ferociously stubborn pain in my ass.”

The grin widens, and for a brief moment his eyes both lighten AND sparkle.

“I called the kids earlier,” she says, as they return to their meals. “Anil said it was okay; now that Asif’s people know where we are.”

“They’re alright?”

“They’re happy. Safe. They have no clue what’s going on. Nik and Kyle are working pretty hard at sheltering them from everything.”

“That’s good. Let’s hope they keep it that way.”

“I told the kids you’d call; if you found the time. That maybe you’d read them a bedtime story. I think it would do them a world of good to hear your voice. And I think it would do YOU a world of good to hear theirs.”

“I’ll call them. Before they go to sleep.”

“And Millie made you a video. She wouldn’t tell me what was on it, but she sent it to your email. She said it’s a surprise. When you’re feeling up to it, maybe you can watch it?”

“Of course I’ll watch it. I’d do anything for her, you know that.”

“I know you would. And they all told me to tell you that they love you. That they miss you.”

He nods slowly, then inhales deeply and exhales slowly. And shakily.

“Tyler…” she reaches out and lays a hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing across his lips. “...I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not hurt. I just miss them. I just want to go home. I want everything to go back to normal. OUR normal, at least. I want my Saturday mornings with Millie; making breakfast together and taking her surfing and helping her look for rocks and shells on the beach. I want to go for a hike in the woods with Tanner or sit with him in that little coffee shop downtown and be amazed at how fucking smart he is. I want to take TJ to soccer and lacrosse and coach when they need me to. I want to rough house with Declan and wake up in the middle of night with Addie and fall back asleep with her on my chest. That’s all I want; I want my life back.”

“And you’ll get it back,” she assures him. “Soon. Very soon. You just need to hang in a little bit longer. We’re almost there. A couple more days. A few at the most.”

“We need to figure out what we’re gonna do. About finding out where Neysa and Aarev are. We need some kind of plan. Because what we’re doing now is not working.”

“You heard what they said; I can get proof of life in person.”

“You’re not going there.”

“I wouldn’t be going alone. Koen said he’d go with me.”

“I don’t care if you bring ten people with you. You’re not going.”

“If Yaz can get eyes and ears on things, all you would have to do is follow us. They take Koen and I are to where Neysa and Aarev are; it will lead you right there.”

Tyler frowns. “You actually believe them? You actually think they’ll take you there?”

“It wouldn’t matter where they take me. If you’re following…”

“Esme…”

“And they think they’re getting the money, right? They want that money. They have twenty five millions reasons to keep me alive.”

“They don’t give a fuck about the money. It’s not about that. They’re probably getting all kinds of it from Mahajan. They don’t really give shit about it. It’s revenge. It’s always been about revenge.”

“Revenge is part of it,” she agrees. “But it’s not all of it.”

“That’s ALL it is. Revenge. They want to avenge, Asif. That’s all they want. Why else would they team up with Mahajan?”

Sighing, she uses her fork to push the remains of food around her plate.

“You are NOT going there,” Tyler insists.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

What choice is there? You offering yourself up for Neysa and Aarev? Because that’s out of the question too. I won’t let you do it. And I know you really don’t want to. I know you don’t want to leave me and the kids. I know you don’t want it...US...to be over. You’re not expendable, Tyler. And you’re offering yourself up for anyone.”

“If it was you or one of my kids…”

“But it’s NOT. It’s not any of us. And I know you think you owe Saju something, but your life is not a form of payment.”

“His was.”

“And you flying for his family somehow makes sense? Going to Asif’s house is the most reasonable and you know it.”

“They will kill you. But not before doing all kinds of fucked up things to you. You’re NOT going there. Especially when you’ve got my baby in you.”

“So what do we do? What’s the plan?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Well we have four hours to come up with something. If I don’t call them…”

“Ask them for more time.”

“They won’t give me more time. You can’t reason with these kinds of people. You just can’t.”

“Use the money. Remember when he asked for thirty? What if you told him that you could get that extra five if they gave you more time?”

“That’s risky.”

“This whole fucking thing is risky.”

“And if they don’t agree? If it pisses them off and encourages them to start killing people? Then what? They know where our kids are. If asking for more time sets them off…”

“It won’t. You have to trust me.”

“This isn’t about whether I trust you or not. This is about not trusting THEM.”

“Call them,” he says. “Tell them you want more time.”

“Tyler…”

“Call them. Get more time added on and then we’ll figure something out. Because you don’t want me offering myself up and I sure as hell won’t let you go there. Call them.”

“Okay,” Esme relents. “But only because I DO trust you.”

Laying a hand on the back of her neck, he pulls her into him. Pressing kisses to her forehead, the bridge of her nose, then her mouth. Fingertips lightly scratching at the edge of her hairline, the tip of his nose against her brow. “Thank you.”

“If this doesn’t work...if they don’t go for it…”

“It’ll work. I know it will. You have to faith in me, okay?”

“I do. I DO have faith in you. But I’m losing hope; that we’re going to get out this. The longer it goes on…”

“A few more days,” Tyler assures her. “That’s it. Just give it a few more days.”

“And then what? What do we do if nothing gets resolved by then?”

“We leave. We go to Mumbai and we get our kids and we go home. We just wash our hands of this. We walk away and that’s it.”

“And you could live with that? With leaving Neysa and Aarav behind?”

“If it means saving you and my kids? Yeah, I can live with it. But if it does work...if I DO find out where they are...I want you to go and get our kids and go home.”

“No,” Esme shakes her head. “I’m not doing that. I’m not leaving you here.”

“I don’t want you here if shit goes down. Because it’s going to be bad and I don’t want you anywhere near it. If something happens to me…”

“If something happens to you, I don’t want to be thousands of miles away from you. What good would that do? If you end up in a hospital here, I don’t want to be stuck in Australia and unable to get to you.”

“I’m not talking about ending up in the hospital. I’m talking about if I end up in the morgue.”

“I wouldn’t do THAT either. I wouldn’t leave you here. There’s no way in hell I would. I’d bring you home. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I left you here. I just couldn’t. I’d need peace and I wouldn’t have that unless you were home. So no. I won’t go back to Mumbai and get our kids and I won’t take them home. I won’t do it.”

“Esme…”

“No, Tyler. I’m not leaving you here. Not alive and breathing and not dead either. It’s important to me; that I’m not far from you. I need to be able to get to you. Whether you’re in a hospital or a body bag.”

“Baby…”

“No!” she insists, and places her hands on his chest and shoves him away. “I am NOT doing it. I’m not leaving you in Dhaka alone. I’m staying. Until the bitter end. And you can’t force me to leave.”

“I could. I could physically make you leave.”

“And I’d never forgive you if you did. You won’t force me. Because deep down, you want me here. You NEED me here. And I know you won’t admit that, but I know it’s true. I’m not leaving you. Would you leave me here?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It IS the same thing. We’re in this together. No matter what the outcome. I didn’t leave you on that bridge...when I barely knew you...so I sure as hell won’t leave you now. This conversation ends here. You don’t bring this up again. I’m not leaving and you just have to deal with that. Got it?”

He nods. “Got it.”

“Don’t you ever bring that up ever again. Don’t ever tell me to leave you. I don’t care if you’re alive or dead; I’d never leave you here. I’d do whatever it takes to get you the fuck out of here. I’ve done it once. I’ll do it again. You wouldn’t have left me on the bridge, would you?”

“Of course I wouldn’t.”

“And you didn’t take Gaspar up on Asif’s offer. For me and Ovi. What the hell makes you think I’d do that to YOU? I would never...EVER...do that to you.”

He places a kiss on her temple and then draws her head down onto his chest. “I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I already told you; there’s nothing to be sorry for. You had every reason to snap during that phone call. He was baiting you; he knew exactly what buttons to push. And he pushed every single one.”

“I don’t mean just that. I mean everything. The last seven years.”

“What the hell is there to apologize for? You have to stop doing this. Letting your mind go there. You have to stop with the guilt, Tyler. How many times have we been through this? How many times have I told you to never feel like that? I know you’re a low point and I know things are shit right now, but you need to stop.”

“If I’d just pushed you away. If I have just stopped myself before anything could happen in that hotel room. If I didn’t let anything happen between us…”

“Stop!” Esme orders. “Just stop!”

“Or if I’d just pushed you away when I woke up in the hospital. I’d just told you to fuck off…”

“Stop!” she angrily repeats, and pulls away from him, clasping his face tightly in her hands. “Stop this!”

“Why did you stay? On the bridge. Why didn’t you just leave me and let me die?”

“Because you didn’t deserve to die. You weren’t the horrible person you thought you were, Tyler. I know you thought you were shit because of what you did to Austin. I know you thought you deserved to pay for it. But you didn’t pay with your life!”

“My life was shit. Because of that one mistake!”

“No. You let it become shit. You let that one mistake destroy you. And yeah, it was a bad mistake. It was a terrible mistake. But it wasn’t punishable by death. Are you saying you’d rather be dead? That you wish I’d said ‘fuck you Tyler Rake’ and left you there? Is that what you really wanted?”

“No. That’s not what I wanted. Maybe right before things happened between us I did. But not at the end of it.”

“You didn’t deserve to die, so I didn’t leave you there. It’s as simple as that. You deserved a second chance. And selfishly, I wanted you to stick around. I wanted more time with you. Because what I felt for you? Just in those five days? It was amazing and it was scary all at the same time and I’d never...ever...had someone make me feel the things you did. Especially not that quickly. And I thought that nothing that felt that good could possibly turn out bad. And maybe that’s part of it too; I was selfish. I wanted you. And I was willing to do whatever it took to get what I wanted.”

“You could have had a normal life. You could have left me on the bridge or in the hospital and went home and had a normal life.”

“There was nothing normal about my life!” Esme argues. “I had that. I had normal. I had the husband and the house in the suburbs with the pool and the beautiful landscaping and nosy neighbours who never left me alone. And I hated it. I hated every second of it! I was stuck with; with a fucking asshole that abused me in every way a person can be abused. And when I got away from him, I said ‘fuck normal’. Being beaten and forced into sex is a hell of high price to pay for normal. So I got into the job; it was exciting and it was dangerous and I got to travel and see amazing places and meet some messed up people. I didn’t want normal. I just wanted you. And whatever came with you, I was willing to deal with.”

“You deserve better than this. This life. Always having to look over your shoulder. People threatening you, threatening our kids. That’s the kind of life you want?”

“Let me tell you about the life I have. I have a man that would stop at nothing to protect me. Who loves with everything he is and everything he has and always looks at me like I’m the most incredible woman on the face of the earth. Who doesn’t lie or cheat or raise his hand to me. Who doesn’t scare me. And I have five beautiful children. Amazing children. And I wouldn’t have them if it wasn’t for you. I have a good life. A damn good life. And I wouldn’t give it..or you...up for anything. Do you regret it? Do you regret me?”

“No. I’ve never regretted you. I’ve only ever regretted getting you mixed up in all of this.”

“I went into this life willingly. And I’d get into it again if it meant I’d be with you. Can you honestly say that you wish I’d left you there? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you wish I’d let you die?”

He shakes his head. “No. I can’t.”

“Don’t ever ask me that again. Because that’s selfish of YOU. Putting me through this over and over again. What do you want me to say? What can I say that will make this better? That will get rid of all that guilt? Tell me what you need me to say...what you WANT me to say...and I will say it.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I don’t know what I want you to say.”

“Then let me ask you this…” she places her hands on his thighs, squeezing tightly. “...and I want you to look at me when I ask you this, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Why didn’t you leave me behind? When Nik told you to? When she told you to leave Ovi and I in the street because we were slowing you down. Why didn’t you leave us? There was no job at that point; there was no money. And you knew that. So why didn’t you leave me?”

“I wasn’t leaving you and the kid in the street! What kind of fucking asshole would do that?”

“A lot of mercenaries would.”

“Yeah, well I’m not a lot mercenaries, am I.”

“Why didn’t you take Gaspar up on the offer? Five million for me and Ovi? Giving us up would have guaranteed your freedom. Why didn’t you do it?”

“I wouldn’t have done that to anyone!” Tyler snarls. “Why are you asking me this shit? Why…?”

“Why didn’t you push me away? When you were in the hospital. You had all the opportunity in the world before we found out about Millie. So it wasn’t because I was pregnant. If you wanted me gone THAT bad…”

“I didn’t want you gone. I never wanted you gone. I woke up and you were there and it was the happiest fucking moment on me entire miserable fucking life. I wanted you to stick around!”

“Why?”

“Why? What do you mean ‘why’? It’s not obvious? I wanted you in my life. Because you were the first person who didn’t look at me like I was total shit. You made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time. And I didn’t want to let that go. I thought if things could feel that good in just five days? What would they feel like in five weeks? Five months? Five years? I didn’t push you away because I didn’t want to.”

“Which is the exact reason I stayed. Because I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to see if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made something amazing. And then we went on and we made five amazing LITTLE things.”

He manages a tiny smile. “Well...six now...actually…”

“I stayed because you made me feel things I’d never felt. Ever. And I didn’t want to let that go. I didn’t want to let YOU go. And I don’t regret it. Not a single second, not a single decision. Nothing. You’re my happy place, Tyler. My safe place. And that’s where I want to be.” She pecks his lips. “And you want a reason for why you deserved to live? You have five of them. Five beautiful, incredible little reasons. They wouldn’t exist without you. So the next time you wonder why you lived, look at your children. You lived so they could be here. It’s as simple as that.”

Blinking back the flood of threatening tears, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into him.

“I didn’t stay on that bridge just for you,” she says, as both arms circle his neck. “I did it for me too.”


	82. Chapter 82

The storm rolls in shortly before nine; torrential rain and howling winds that rattle the windows, bend tree branches, and strip them of leaves. Both the thunder and lightning are intense and incessant; resounding booms that seem to shake the entire house and forks of silver that slice through the coal black sky. The sudden change in weather does little to improve Tyler’s mood; the pressure in the air bringing a migraine that settles in both temples and over his left eye. While the sadness and hints of guilt, regret, and even embarrassment have faded, they’ve been replaced with emotions much more profound and unsettling. Immense hatred. Blinding rage. A desperate and powerful want and need for revenge. 

It’s been almost three months since it all began. Kicking off with Mahajan’s badgering of his son in regards to taking over the ‘family business’, escalating into threats against his family that grew more disturbing with each passing day, and culminating in an unwanted return to Dhaka. It’s complicated and twisted; each hour brings an added layer that only pushes the finish line further and further away. His physical pain may be worsening; but it’s his mental stability that is the most concerning. Unable to turn off the emotionally driven side of him and solely look at things from a mercenary’s point of view. He knows he’s on the edge; barely hanging on his last shred of sanity. The games have taken their toll; hearing vile things about his wife and children serving as the final nails in the coffin. Even if he does survive with his body intact, he’s not sure if his brain will be as fortunate. It’s a no win situation. Whether it’s a busted up body or a broken mind, he’ll suffer either way. And so will his family.

He places a call to Kyle’s cell phone, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his right leg and across the small of his back as he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Anil had one of his ‘people’ stop by; a physician originally from Mumbai who’d not only taken the CEO position at one of Dhaka’s private hospitals, but holds the utmost contempt for both the ghost of Amir Asif and those still pledging loyalty to him.

“He’s been dead for seven years,” he’d said. “Yet he’s still sending me patients and putting bodies in my morgue. Old, young; his drugs and his people do not discriminate.”

That had been the extent of conversation. No small talk exchanged as he put Tyler through a series of physical tests to determine the state of his mobility issues. The doctor offering little more than heavy sighs and shakes of head as he discovered things were worse than he initially suspected. Torn ligaments and tendons, the disintegration of cartilage, scar tissue. A lengthy list of things that could be causing problems but would definitely have to be properly -and extensively- investigated by a specialist. For the time being, there’s nothing anyone can do, aside from prescribing yet another painkiller with strict orders that someone else be in charge of dispensing it. He can’t be trusted to do it himself; the first one to admit that he has absolutely no control over the demon of drug addiction. And he’d been more than happy to hand over the responsibility; as long as he’d get some relief.

So far he's pleasantly surprised; the two pills he’d taken an hour ago successfully -and quickly- taking the edge off without making him feel ‘doped up’. The pain is still present, but nowhere as intense or unbearable. Relegated to a dull, continuous throb akin to the agony of a bad toothache.

Kyle answers on the third ring, giving a quick ‘hey’ followed by “I’ll get one of the kids for you.” It’s the first time they’ve spoken since right before he and Esme had left for Dhaka; Kyle still sore over the fact he’d been called out for his poor treatment of his sister.

“Hold up,” Tyler says, smirking at the sound of his brother in law’s heavy sigh. “How’s things there? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Things are okay.”

“Okay as in good or okay as in they could be better?"

“If you’re just asking about the kids, then things are okay as in good. Ovi and I are making sure we keep them busy; filling their days up. And they’re happy as they can be when they’re missing both their mom and dad as much as they are. It’s hard on them; both of you being gone. But they’re doing alright. They’re coping. We’re busting our asses to make sure they don’t catch wind of what’s really going on.”

“Thanks for that. Esme and I appreciate it. Keep an eye on Millie though. She figured everything out, and while she promised she wouldn’t say anything to her brothers, I wouldn’t put it past her if they pissed her off enough. Nothing she loves more than tormenting those two.”

Kyle gives a small chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on her. There hasn’t been any actual fights so far, but she has threatened to beat their asses a few times. You know, she’s a mind fuck that kid. She’s so sweet and cute to look at…

“But she’s a total savage,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly. She doesn’t take any shit. Esme was like that as a kid; no one dared messing with her because she’d beat the ever loving hell out of them. Small, but tough. How is she? She doing okay?”

“She’s hanging in there. Just ready for all this to be over. Sooner the better. Anything going on there? Anything weird or suspicious or…”

“Other than Anil going ape shit on all the nannies and replacing them all? Things have been pretty quiet. There’s been a couple little things here and there; people getting too close to the house, calling here and hanging up, dead cat thrown over the fence.”

“That’s all rookie stuff. Someone trying to unnerve ya. I wouldn’t put too much stock into it; guys who can really do damage start bigger and end even bigger. They don’t bother with bullshit like that. You’ll call, yeah? If things get any weirder?”

“I will,” Kyle promises. “Keep my little sister safe, okay? I wish she wasn’t involved in this at all, but..”

“She’s safe with me. She always is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I wish she’d never gotten dragged into all of this in the first place. And I’m not talking now. I’m talking seven years ago. If you’d just thought of her instead of yourself…”

“Is that daddy?” Millie’s voice interrupts Kyle before he can launch into his tirade. “Mommy said daddy was going to call us. Is that him? Can I talk to him? I want to talk to him.”

There’s a slight rustling noise as the phone is passed from person to person, and the first smile of the day manages to make its way to his face when his daughter greets him with a cheerful “Hi daddy! I miss you!”

He tries not to think about it; the threat made against her and the knowledge of what would be done to her. She’s only six. Still a baby. HIS baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hey baby girl.”

“Mommy said you’d call and you did! She said you were feeling a bit sad ‘cause you miss us so much.”

“I am a bit sad,” Tyler admits. “I do miss you guys. You being good?”

“I’m trying. But TJ really tests my patience. He’s so annoying! Why does he have to be so annoying?”

“Because he knows it bothers you. Just try to ignore him”

“It’s hard!” Millie laments. “It’s really, REALLY hard. It’s like he wants me to punch him in the face.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t punch anyone in the face.”

“But I’m not a pacifist. I’d rather ‘pass a fist’.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I’m not a snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

“How about you rein in your temper a bit,” he suggests. “Just take it from the source. He’s doing it to get a reaction. Don’t give him one. That’ll irritate him and he’ll get bored and back off. How are you? You doing okay?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I miss home. Can we go back soon? Are you almost done your work? I really want to go home.”

“So do I. And it’ll be over soon.”

“And then you and mommy will come and get us and take us home?”

“As soon as it’s over. Once it’s done, we’ll come and get you guys. I promise.”

“Maybe next time we go on a trip, we can go to Disney World. That would be fun.”

“Have you been talking to Tanner?”

“Maybe…” Millie sing songs. 

“Tell you what, when we get home, your mom and I will talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Is it stormy where you are? It’s really stormy here. It’s kinda scary! The thunder is really loud and it’s really windy. It never gets THIS bad at home. We get storms, but they’re not as scary as this one. I wish you were here; it wouldn’t be as scary. You always built a fort in the living room so we can all sleep together and we won’t be afraid. You always make it fun. Like we’re on a camping trip. We forget about being scared when you’re with us. I wish you were here, daddy.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “I wish I was there too.”

“Did you watch my video? I sent it to your email. Did you get it?”

“I did. But I haven’t watched it yet. I was going to do that before bed. So I could have good dreams instead of bad ones.”

“That’s a good idea! Maybe you can send ME a video and I can watch it before bed and that way I’LL have good dreams too.”

“You know what I’ll do? I’ll make a video for all of you and then you can all watch it before bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

“I gotta go. I’ve got an important meeting I have to get to. But I’ll make the video and I’ll send it to Auntie Nik’s email. You tell her I’m doing that, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you, daddy. I love you.”

“I miss you too. And I love you. ALL of you. So much. And I’ll see you guys in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I promise.”

****

It takes four attempts before he gets a usable video to send to the kids; trying to keep it light and cheerful and finding himself stumbling over his words and fighting back tears. The last thing he wanted was to turn a bedtime message into something so dark and depressing. Even Millie -who is incredibly intuitive and had known from the start that Mumbai wasn’t a normal family holiday- doesn’t know the full extent of just how serious things are. He doesn’t want to scare them; seeing daddy emotional will only cause them to ask questions no one truly has answers for. And it would only send their fears and anxiety -especially Tanner’s- through the roof. In the end he’d been able to hold it together. Reciting one of their favorite bedtime stories by heart and telling them how much he loves them and misses them; promising that they’ll all be heading home soon. The latter had actually helped lift his own spirits. Saying the words out loud doing wonders for his confidence; the promise itself -and not wanting to break it- giving his motivation a desperately needed kick in the ass.

By the time he journeys downstairs, Yaz has already arrived; joining Esme, Koen, Rata and two of Anil’s men -who’d been ordered to help out in each and every way possible- in the living room. And the younger man pauses in the setting up of his laptop in order to greet Tyler with a warm, tight hug and a playful backhand to an unshaven cheek. He sees the exhaustion that clouds Yaz’ eyes and dampens his smile; his own fears and worries revolving around a heavily pregnant girlfriend back home. It’s been hell on everyone; long hours and restless sleep and one stumbling block after another. There’s finally some light at the end of that very long and winding tunnel. It’s faint, but at least it’s there.

He pours himself a coffee from the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen and then joins the others. Returning Esme’s smile as she looks up at him, giving her a wink before taking a seat beside her and then pressing a kiss to her temple as he leans into her. Her hand slides along his inner thigh and then settles on his knee; squeezing lightly before her fingers locate the most tender area and begin digging and manipulating. She doesn’t need to be asked; always knowing where the painful spots are and never hesitating to provide even the smallest bit of relief.

“I hope this weather isn’t some kind of bloody omen,” Raka grumbles. Nervously bouncing his legs and both jumping and looking towards the sliding glass doors with each boom of thunder that shakes the house.

“Forty damn years old and he’s scared of a wee storm,” Koen scoffs.

Rata glares at him. “A wee storm? Sounds like Mother Nature is getting ready to blow shit up!”

“Do you need your favorite blanket? A warm bottle of milk? Someone to cuddle with you? It’s nothing but some wind and a bit of rain.”

“That’s more than just some wind and some rain!” his friend argues. “It’s like the end of the world out there! And if this some kind of omen about how things are going to go down…”

“Ain’t no bloody omen!” Koen laughs “Don’t tell me you believe in all that shit. Signs and karma and all that hoodoo voodoo, hocus pocus crap!”

“I d0n’t know,” Esme says, as she reaches for a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “I like to think that karma exists and that it finally caught up to my ex. Because if anyone deserved to be hit head on by the karma bus, it was him.”

Tyler nods in agreement and takes a swig of coffee.

“So what’s it looking like?” Koen addresses Yaz. “End getting close or what?”

“Depends on what news you guys have for me. I know where I stand on my end of things. What about over here?”

“I was able to get an extra twenty four hours,” Esme says. “But I really had to up the ante; an extra five million wasn’t going to cut it. I had to promise another ten. I tried to talk them down, but it was either the extra ten or pieces of Neysa and Aarev start washing up on the shores of Buriganga in a few days' time.”

“And Anil was willing to up that much?” Yaz asks. “IF it comes down to having to pay the ransom?”

“He didn’t hesitate when I told him. I don’t know where he gets all his money from, but he acted like it was nothing more than pocket change. He’s prepared to pay IF all else fails. But they still won’t give me proof of life unless I agree to meet them at Asif’s house and have them take me to where they’re being held.”

“Which is NOT happening,” Tyler says. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“Now hold on a second,” Koen speaks up. “It’s the way that makes the most sense.”

Tyler frowns. “What are you talking about? It makes no sense. You really think they’re going to keep their word? That they won’t hurt her? They’ll use her as bait. She won’t get anywhere near Neysa and Aarev; they won’t take her there. They’ll keep her at Asif’s and do God knows what to her until I show up to get her out.”

“She won’t be going alone,” Koen points out.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s ten of you going with her. She’s not doing this. She’s not going there. No fucking way.”

“But when they take her there...US there...you just follow behind and…”

“You’re not hearing me, mate. They won’t take her anywhere. They’ll kill you, then use her to bait me. And they’ll do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her. You’re just going to take them at their word that they won’t hurt her? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you’re not THAT stupid.”

“Okay….” Esme speaks up. “...why don’t we all calm down and talk through all of this rationally. There’s got to be another way to find out where Neysa and Aarev are that doesn’t involve having to go to Asif’s house. We all know it’s a trap. We can’t trust a single word they say and there no doubt in my mind they’d keep me in order to get Tyler to show up.”

“She’s NOT going,” Tyler stresses. “End of story. After tonight, her part in this is down. She did everything we needed her to do. Enough’s enough. I’m not risking her or the…” he catches himself. “...I’m not risking her. We gotta find another way.”

“I think I have one.” Yaz says. “It unfortunately does involve sending people to Asif’s house, but not in an official capacity. What if I can get people to plant tracking devices on a few of the cars that are always coming in and out of there? We’ve had eyes on that place since we got here; there’s a constant flow of the same six vehicles going in and out at all hours of the day. If I can get some guys close enough to put some GPS trackers in place, we just sit back and see if any of them visit a storage facility.”

“The storage thing was just something I pulled out of my ass,” Tyler admits. “What I saw in the pictures and the videos reminded me of where we held McMann. That’s the only reason I said. Could be a factory or a warehouse for all I know.”

“What if it’s Asif’s basement?” Esme asks. “Does that place have one? Or a cold cellar or something like that? Cements walls and floors? Could be a basement or a cellar of some kind. It would explain no windows.”

“Well that makes it even more complicated if it is,” Koen grumbles. “How would we ever find that out? We can’t just go on up and knock on the front door and ask for a tour.”

“Any way of getting eyes in there?” Tyler asks Yaz. “It wouldn’t hurt ruling it out. Kind of fitting if it is where they’re holding them. Almost like they’re offering them up as some sacrifice to Asif. Appease the Gods of whatever the fuck they believe in.”

“I’d have to study the blueprints again,” Yaz says. “I didn’t see a basement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. A lot could have changed since the originals were made; people renovate and add on all the time. We definitely need to check it out. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Can you do it?” Tyler inquires. “Get eyes in there?”

“It’ll be hard. But I’m sure I can come up with something. There’s got to be a way of getting in there without tripping the alarms or grabbing their attention. I’ll work on it.”

“I think the bigger worry right now is the bridges,” Esme pipes up. “Koen and I saw it with our own eyes. They are locked down and both the police AND the military are manning the road blocks. And they have pictures of me, of Tyler, and they’re comparing them to everyone that goes in or out. Whether they’re walking or driving.”

“They do have them locked pretty tight,” Koen confirms. “There’s no way we could get him across without him being seen.”

“What about going in from the north?” Esme suggests. “Does anyone know if they’ve got things blocked off up there too? If you go north into one of the smaller towns, you can backtrack your way into Dhaka, You can’t send a chopper right into the city; you just can’t. Not when even the police and military are wanting to cash in on the bounty. A chopper is big and noisy and that’s way too much attention right off the hop. But if you take one into one of the towns north of the city, you can drive back in. IF there’s no roadblocks that way.”

“That’s a big if,” Tyler says.

“I can send some people to check it out,” Yaz offers. “There’s a lot of remote areas north of Dhaka. Could them in, get them to see what’s going and probably have an answer in five or six hours. Gotta mobilize them first. Have they sent anything? For proof of life? Any pictures, videos…?”

“The last proof Anil received was three days ago,” Esme sighs. “Nothing since.”

“So they could be dead,” Koen concludes.

“There’s no way they’re dead,” Tyler says. “They need them alive. They know if I don’t come there, they’re going to have to settle for the cash. Which means they have thirty million reasons to keep them alive.”

Or they could kill them and just let on that they’re alive,” Koen argues. “Bait you there with the impression that they ARE still breathing.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Yaz speaks up. “This is a huge pay day for these guys. If Tyler bails, the money is all they have. They’ll take it.”

“Then why not just bail?” Rata asks. “Why not just say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here? Just let Anil give them the money. Hand over the cash and Neysa and Aarev go free, that’s it.”

“It isn’t just about Neysa and Aarev,” Esme reminds him. “It started with the threats against them and it escalated into a whole lot more. WAY more than any of us thought it would. Did any of us image it would get this far? Did any of us really think it would get this bad? It never should have led to this.”

“This is about my family too,” Tyler adds. “Look at all the shit that’s been said. About my wife, about my kids. You think I’m really going to sit back and let them get away with it? If it was you girl, would you just tuck your tail between your legs and run?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d fight too. But haven’t we fought enough? We took care of all those people on that list. Just like we were supposed to. It’s not our fault that Mahajan changed the game when he grabbed the woman and the kid. We did what we set out to do. So why don’t we just say fuck it and go home?”

“Why don’t YOU just say fuck and go home?” Tyler retorts. “If you can’t handle it, just say so. If you’re scared to do this…”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Rata interjects. “I just don't understand why we keep busting our asses like this. Haven’t we done enough? We got all the names checked off the list, Anil is going to take care of Mahajan. We’re done.”

“We are NOT done.” Esme argues. “They have Neysa and Aarev. And Nathan. Did you forget about him? I know he’s no one’s favorite, but they have him too. We can’t just leave them there.”

“And we can’t leave Asif’s people alive,” Koen adds “They’re too much of a threat; especially to Esme and the kids. We leave them alive and they’ll always pose a threat. We have to get rid of them so Tyler and his family can leave in peace.”

“If you want to go, go,” Tyler says. “You want to walk away, no one will fault you for it. This has been sheer fucking hell from day one. If you’re tired and you’ve had enough then just walk away. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I sure as hell will,” Koen snarls.

“I ain’t leaving you two useless assholes here!” Rata protests. “Someone has to make sure things get done right. Might as well be me.”

Koen gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“Well it’s true,” Rata mutters, and leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the one who’s been doing it all right since the beginning.”

“I’ll get trackers on the cars right away and send people north,” Yaz announces, and snaps the lid on his laptop closed. “We’re in the end game now. Everyone needs to keep on their toes and be ready to go at any given moment.”

“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Koen asks. “When the shooting starts? That’s going to bring a whole lot of attention our way. We’re going to have every fucking drongo in Dhaka showing up. Regular people, cops, military. How do we deal with all of that?”

“That’s why we have guns,” Tyler informs him. “They shoot at you, you shoot back. And shoot to kill. Injuring them will do shit. You gotta put them down and put them for good.”

“What if someone creates a few distractions on the bridges?” Esme addresses Yaz “I’m sure Anil has some extra people he can lend or even people here in Dhaka that he can convince to go against Asif. If we have people causing a disturbance on the bridges, all the attention will be down by the water.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Koen teases, and shoots her a playful wink.

“I like that idea,” Rata enthuses, “Stir up some chaos. Shoot some people, blow some shit up.”

“Well I was thinking relatively non violent,” Esme says. “But yeah, that works too.”

“Just remember to not shoot unless you’re being shot at,” Yaz instructs. There’s a lot of Dhaka. Good, innocent people. We don’t want their deaths on our hands. Know your target before engaging. And believe me, you’ll know your targets.”

“They don’t waste time shooting,” Esme adds. “Thankfully, most of them can’t shoot for shit. So your chances are pretty good that you won’t get hit.”

“Until they shoot you from behind,” Tyler smirks. “Then all of a sudden they’re really good shots.” He immediately regrets saying it; noticing the way Esme’s entire body stiffens and hears the heavy sigh that escapes her lips.

“Ask me, that was just luck,” Yaz remarks. “Extremely bad on your part, extremely good on his.”

“Can we NOT talk about?” Esme irritably requests. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Gonna need eyes in the back of our heads,” Rata grumbles. “If these fuckers are known for cutting you down from behind. I don’t want to be catching one in the throat. I wouldn’t be so lucky, that’s for sure.”

“No sense rehashing all of that,” Yaz attempts to derail the conversation. “It was a long time ago. Let’s concentrate on now and…”

“I’m just saying,” Rata continues. “If we got kids out there putting bullets in our backs or our necks…”

“Enough,” Tyler orders. “We all know what happened. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“You got lucky,” his friend informs him. “Someone was there to save your ass. All you bastards would high tail it out of there and let me fend for myself.”

“This conversation is not for me,” Esme declares, and shrugs Tyler’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to prevent her from standing up. “I’m not talking about this. I don’t even want to hear about it. Bad enough I had to go through it. Last thing I want to do is relive it.”

The next thirty second feels as if it lasts thirty minutes. Tension filled silence and a painful awkwardness; all four men attempting to avoid eye contact with one another and trying not to acknowledge the obvious tears sparkling in Esme’s eyes and the way she drops her empty mug into the sink with a loud clatter. Or the way she hurries from the room; light footsteps impossibly loud on the stairs. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen angrily elbows Rata in the ribs. “You know we don’t talk about that. We never talk about that.”

“It’s been seven years! I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It’s a big fucking deal! To her, anyway. You better start kissing some serious ass, you fucking drongo!”

As his friends continue to bicker, Tyler leans forward and places his forearms on his thighs. Eyes on his feet as the fingers of his right hand fidget with his wedding band; twirling it back and forth, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down again A nervous habit that creeps up when his anxiety rears its ugly head or the PTSD is gearing up to unleash hell.

Yaz slips into the empty seat beside him, then leans in close. “Still a sore spot for her, huh?”

Tyler nods in confirmation.

“It won’t be much longer until go time. Think she’s going to be able to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

****** 

He manages an hour and a half of sleep. Waking to the sounds of Esme muttering and whimpering beside him. Her body drawn impossibly tight and her hands tightly gripping the bottom sheet; heels digging into the mattress as if trying to push herself away from an attacker. He opted not to shake her awake, wanting to avoid sending her into a panic and turning her extremely combative. He’d learned the hard way how NOT to handle a night terror. Confronted by a five foot nothing woman with the sudden strength of three grown men and having to physically restrain her until the nightmare released her from its clutches and she came out of it on her own. 

Instead he took the easier approach. Rolling over onto his side and laying an arm across her midsection and draping one leg over both of hers and effectively keeping her flailing limbs and trembling body still. A forearm resting lightly on the top of her head and his fingers reaching for her face; gently clearing tears off of her cheeks and lightly tracing random patterns on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Within minutes she’d been successfully comforted. Body finally stilling, tears ceasing, eyes never opening as she issued a heavy sigh and moved onto her side.

After that, all hope of getting back to sleep had abandoned him, and for the last hour he’s been lying there in silence. Holding her as tightly as her body will allow him to; face buried in her hair as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing. And when her body grows uncomfortable with the heat radiating from his own and the weight of his limbs becomes too much, she moves away and he gives up on rest entirely. Sliding out of bed and then bunching up both of his pillows and placing them -one on top of the other, lengthwise- behind her back. If she rolls over in her sleep and blindly reaches for him, she’ll at least discover the pillows; his scent hopefully enough to comfort her. 

He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Wanting to be ready at the drop of a hat; whether it be a phone call from Yaz or a threat on their doorstep. And he picks up the holster -gun securely stored inside- from it resting on the nightstand; clipping it to the waist of his jeans and then shoving his feet into his combat boots, lacing them tightly before leaving the room. 

He grabs some fresh air; giving the guards a nod in greeting as he steps out onto the back porch. While the storm had settled hours ago, it had brought no relief. Heat near stifling, the humidity already oppressive; causing sweat to quickly bead across his forehead and to gather at his temples and the nape of his neck. The air is thick and heavy, yet he barely notices it as he sits on the edge of the deck. Jaw firmly set, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together; eyes dark and staring out into the stillness of the night. He neither sees or acknowledges anything around him. Not the movement of the guards patrolling the darkened perimeter or their quiet conversation. Not the faint music coming from the neighbouring home or the chirping of the crickets. 

His mind is switching over now, and soon his senses and instincts will kick into high gear; his brain thinking of nothing but the task directly in front of him. The adrenaline is starting to build; that rush of blood in your veins and the anticipation that causes your heart to speed up and your stomach to flutter. For now he’s still experiencing other emotions as well; worry, nervousness, fear. Haunted by the thought that he could be called upon at any given moment and he many never return to his old life. To that sprawling, beautiful home on the beach with its million dollar view. To the sound of his children laughing and playing. To kissing his wife good morning when she wanders into the kitchen clad in one of his t-shirts. To kissing her goodnight and having that warm, supple body snuggled into his; her breath tickling his skin and that familiar smell clinging to her hair.

It’s shortly before one in the morning when he heads back inside. The house shrouded in silence; the open concept living, dining, and kitchen area illuminated only by the light above the stove. Instead of returning upstairs, he sinks into the easy chair in the living room; relieved that he’s able to stretch out his legs without wincing or groaning from discomfort. The two pills he’d taken almost three hours ago effectively reducing both his pain and stiffness yet not leaving him groggy or with altered senses. It’s a temporary fix; he knows long term usage is out of the questions. His body will get accustomed to both the drug and the dosage and soon the need for more will start. The cravings will kick in soon afterwards, and he’ll find himself desperate for a fix and willing to do anything to get it. Seeking out a doctor is the safest and only hope he has; whether it be through extensive physio or surgery. And he’s more than willing to put in the time and the effort. After all, it’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his life from falling apart.

“Tyler?”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, and he glances towards where she’s paused at the middle landing of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if it was you. I didn't want to come down there and sit on someone and find out the hard way it’s Koen.”

“Might give the guy a heart attack. Probably the most attention he’s had from a woman in a long time.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, as she descends the remaining stairs and joins him; settling herself sideways on his lap with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair. 

“Everything’s good.”

“You feeling alright?” She pushes a hand through his hair, palm settling at the back of his head, nails lightly massaging his scalp.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. Those meds are doing their job. For now anyway.” He turns his face into hers and places a kiss to each corner of her mouth before covering it with his own. One hand sliding up and down her back as the other settles on her hip. “You okay? You were having a pretty bad dream, huh?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she says, and rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

“So it was about me?”

Another nod.

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures her, and rests the tip of his nose against his forehead, feeling the tickle of her lashes when she closes her eyes.

“Nice attempt with the pillows though,” she says.

“It usually works.”

“I woke up completely this time. And then I panicked; I was worried you’d gotten the call and left without saying bye.”

“I’d never leave without telling you. We have our thing, yeah? Shit we always say to each other before I go? It’s like my good luck charm; say those words and everything will go right.”

“It’s held up so far. You started saying it when you went back to the job the first time and you’ve been saying it ever since.”

“Pretty good track record. I wouldn’t risk screwing things up by leaving without waking you up and telling you. You sure you’re alright? Dream still got you rattled?”

“A little,” she admits. “It was scary. And gruesome. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” She nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to it. “It was bad…” her voice cracks. “...it was really bad.”

“It’s okay…” the hand on her back moves up to her hair, slightly stroking it as his other hand rubs her hips. “...everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

“We knew this was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you have to go, but it doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“Would it make you feel better if I wore my lucky underwear?” 

“You didn’t bring them. I packed your bag, remember?”

“And you didn’t put them in? What’s wrong with you?”

“The only thing those underwear are lucky for is making babies. Declan, Addie. I bet you were wearing them when this one was made too.”

A hand moves to the small baby bump already straining against her pyjamas pants. “I wasn’t wearing any.”

“You don’t even know what day this one was made on. How do you know if you were wearing underwear or not? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast most days.”

“I figure if I don’t wear them six days a week, the chances are pretty high that I wasn’t wearing any that day.”

“Maybe THAT’S why your sperm is so good. You’re not suffocating them all the time. They're free range. They’re not penned in and they can come and go as they please. Like how the chickens in Colorado used to poop out butt nuggets everywhere.”

Tyler chuckles. “Butt nuggets.”

“I used to call eggs that all the time when I was a kid,” Esme muses. “My dad taught me that. We’d have a big family breakfast every Sunday; like we do now. And he’d always ask me how I wanted my butt nuggets cooked. My mom would get so mad! She hated that we were so close. I think in a way she was jealous. I was her first girl and I wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t figure out that she was the reason I didn’t want to be around her. And here we are, thirty some years later and she still has no clue. Makes me sad for our kids; they don’t even have one grandmother. Your mom would have been so good with them. I just know it. Her only kid...her son...having kids of his own?”

“She would have spoiled the hell out of them. She would have loved them; there’s no doubt about that.”

“She’d be so proud of you. For how you turned out.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t he completely on board with the whole hired gun thing.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean how you turned out as a man. If she was alive right now, she’d know all the struggles you went through and saw all the battles you fought and how you beat every single one. And she’d see how you turned out as a husband and a father despite not having the best role model to emulate.”

“Growing up I told myself that I’d never be like him. That I’d never turn out like that.”

“And you didn’t. You work hard at it every single day; to not be like him. It would have been so easy for you; to end up the same way. But you went in the opposite direction.”

“You keep forgetting that the first time didn’t turn out so good.”

“You were a kid when you got married the first time,” Esme reasons. “And judging by the stories I’ve heard she wasn’t exactly wife material.”

“She had her flaws , that’s for sure. One of them just happened to fucking anyone that showed interest.”

“Well if you ask me, she must have been crazy. Cheating on the likes of you? Why give up filet mignon for ground beef?”

“So I really AM just a piece of meat to you,” he teases, and she giggles when he kisses the side of her neck and playfully pinches her side.

“I’m just saying that I don’t get it. Why do you cheat when you have an amazingly hot husband that’s a god in bed? There has to be something seriously wrong with someone. And don’t get me started on how you were deployed when she would do it. Your husband is off...in the Middle East...getting shot at it and trying not to get blown up by roadside bombs...and you’re back home serving as the base slut? That’s the lowest of the low!”

“I guess both of us weren’t very good judges of character when we were younger.”

“There is a bright side though. To what we both went through the first time around.”

“What’s the bright side?”

“Well if things had been wonderful in either of our first marriages, neither of us would have ended up doing the job. You probably would have stayed in the military and I probably would have been a happy little housewife. In the PTA and driving a minivan and taking the kids to soccer and drinking Starbucks.”

“You take the kids to soccer now. Except it’s a thermos with homemade coffee with Bailey’s in it. “

“That’s in the cooler weather. When it’s hot, it’s pink lemonade with vodka.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not the most exciting sport in the world; I have to get through it somehow. And I also have to survive all the thirsty females that show up whenever you coach. I don’t know how they know when it’s your turn, but that many never show when you’re not there. And they show up in their slutty little outfits and their make up done. And there I am; no makeup, ball cap on yoga pants and UGG boots and one of your hoodies. And you wonder why I have self confidence issues.”

“Who cares about the thirsty women? I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“I care when they’re openly discussing my husband’s ass and his muscles and his bulge.”

“You should have married an uglier guy with a small dick then,” Tyler teases.

“I did that with my first marriage. I traded up the second time around.”

“Just ignore them. I do. I don’t pay attention to them. I don’t need to. I’m already married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Wow…” she’s grinning as she pulls back to look at him. “...do you ever know how to lay it on thick.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how I see you. I’ve always seen you that way. It’s how I’ll always see you. So fuck ‘em. Who’s the one I go home with? Who’s the one I share a bed with every night?”

“Me. Lucky little old me.”

“Exactly. It’s always been you. It always will be. I choose you every day.”

“Even when my hair hasn’t been washed in four days and I’ve got baby puke on my clothes and dark circles under my eyes and I’m a raging bitch?”

“Even then.”

“Now THAT is true love,” she says, and places both hands on the side of his as she kisses him. Nothing hurried or overly needy; soft and languid, lips moving slowly against one another. And when she pulls away he sees the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the way the corners of her mouth droop.

“Baby…” he combs his fingers through her hair, then kisses the bridge of her nose and cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. “...don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go. I know you have to; it’s the only way this will ever be finished. But I still don’t want you to leave. I wish there was another way; to end all of this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“I’m scared. This is the most scared I’ve ever been. I wasn’t even this scared seven years ago.”

“We barely knew each other then,” he reasons. “But now…”

“There’s so much to lose. Way too much. If something happens to you…”

“Stop…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his, pressing their brows together. “...just stop.”

“You have to come back for me. You HAVE to. Promise me you’ll come back for me.”

“Esme…”

“Promise me, Tyler,” she pleads, fingers tightly gripping his hair. “Promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“At least promise you’ll try? That you’ll do whatever it takes to get back here. Can you promise me that at least?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, and places a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”


	83. Chapter 83

The call comes shortly before four in the morning; the shrill ring and the incessant vibration of the phone against the nightstand startling him awake. Tyler groans at the intrusion; annoyed by the abrupt end to what had been an uncharacteristically peaceful sleep. Insomnia had settled in their first night in Dhaka; rattled by the ongoing threats against his family and the turn to the very place where he’d nearly lost his life. Seven years feels like seventy some days; given reprieve when the memories don’t creep up for weeks, sometimes even months on end. Yet there’s times where it feels as if it were seven days ago; vivid recollections of the taste of his own sweat and blood, the smell of gunpowder and spilt gasoline, the cries of the wounded and dying. It’s been years since he’s had what he considers a decent sleep; five to seven hours without being disturbed by pain or bad dreams or being woken by a crying baby or little ones climbing into bed alongside him.

While it only been three hours since he and Esme had returned upstairs the short period of rest that had preceded their love making had been the deepest and most restful sleep in recent memory. The day’s roller coaster of emotions finally caught up to him; initially channelled into languid and gentle -and ultimately desperate- sex. The realization that it may very well be the last time they would physically enjoy each other fuelling the need; hands and mouths working together to fully worship and pleasure one another before giving in to the act itself. Moving slowly inside of her at first; long, soft kisses being exchanged as her hands roamed his shoulders and back and travelled down his arms. Those huge, dark eyes and her legs wrapping around his waist and heels digging into the small of his back signalling that she needed more from him. WANTED more. And he’d obliged; repeatedly driving into her with near brutal force. Thrusts that pushed her further up the bed and had her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort; teeth sinking into his shoulder and nails breaking the skin as they raked down his back and over his ribs. Enjoying the way his name sounded coming from her mouth; whether it be the whispers and whimpers or the begging and pleaded and eventually the cry of her released. It’s always been her favorite thing to hear, even outside of sex. The way it sounds when she’s giggling while he teases her or when it’s sleepy and slightly disoriented after he’s woken her up after falling asleep on the couch.

He can remember what it had felt like when she’d said it for the first time; in that cramped and dirty hotel room in the city centre. Since their initial first meeting at that old shack in the outback, she’d been calling him by his last name; a habit picked up in both the military and her time on the job. First names are usually abode; too personal considering the unpredictable circumstances and the very short time you’re actually in someone’s life. But in that moment...in the heat of an intense argument between two severely obstinate people...with his hand around her neck and those dark eyes -stoic and unnerved- staring up at him, everything changed. 

“Admit it,” she’d snarled. “For the right price, you’d leave me AND the kid behind. Admit it, Tyler.”

It was the first time she’d said it; his first name. And it had caused something inside of him to snap; that stubbornness and assertiveness and those eyes his complete undoing. It had been years since a woman had made him feel that level of want and need, and despite the rational side of his brain screaming at him to walk away, he’d given in. His hand still on her throat as he kissed her with a complete loss of control he’d never exhibited with anyone else. Spurred on when she’d so eagerly responded; unable to stop things from progressing even further. Taking her right there up against the wall, pounding into her with punishing thrusts that were fuelled by years of anger, guilt, and regret. And that little body had taken everything he’d unleashed on it; hands tightly gripping his hair and her legs wound around his waist. Encouraged by the way she begged and pleaded for ‘more and ‘harder’ and the way his first name suddenly couldn’t stop tumbling from her lips. 

After that, she never called by his last name ever again. And he’d have to stop himself from smiling every time she said his first. It sounded THAT good.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he reaches over his wife’s still, sleeping form and snags the phone before it can go to voicemail. There’s that brief moment of panic of late night calls while on a job; someone getting a hold of him to say that something to one -or all- of the kids. The tightness that forms in your chest and the way your heart hammers wildly. But the relief is instantaneous at the sight of Yaz’ name on the screen. Although it brings a whole host of other emotions with it.

“Yeah?” His greeting is simple. Voice laced with the lingering remnants of sleep.

“Be ready to go in three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“Guy I sent to try and get eyes in Asif’s place had other ideas; decided to go a different route. Grabbed one of the street thugs and beat the shit out of him and threatened to blow his knee caps and his dick off if he didn’t tell him where Neysa and Aarev are.”

“And he rolled over on his buddies?”

“Guess he really wanted to keep the family jewels. You were right; it IS a storage facility. One that hasn’t been in business for a while. About ten minutes outside of the city centre, going west. Sent my guy there to check it out; three separate buildings. They’re being held somewhere in the centre one. Sorry I couldn’t narrow it down any further.”

“I’ll work with whatever you give me. How many hostiles on site?”

“My guy counted six. I was able to get some surveillance set up; I’ve only seen ten at the most. Not too bad, right? If you can take out a whole apartment of assholes…”

“I’m not the man I was back then.”

“It was only seven years ago. Not seventy.”

“Tell that to my body.”

“You gonna be alright?” Yaz asks. “Think your old bones can handle this?”

“It’s not my bones I’m worried about.”

“If you can’t mentally do this. I’m not going to hold it against you. If you think whatever is left of your sanity won’t hold up...”

“I’ll be fine. In and out, yeah? Sounds like a pretty straight forward extraction. Not too many hostiles to deal with, a pretty open space, we’re away from the market area. What could possibly go wrong?”

“You know better than to ask something like that. It was a good call on Esme’s part; going north. Not a single damn roadblock that way. They’re expecting trouble to come over the Buriganga. That’s why they’ve shut the bridges down. I’ll drop you guys off just north of Dhaka; there’ll be two SUVs waiting.”

“How far back into town?”

“Twenty minutes. I'll be waiting at the extraction point. By the time anyone realizes what went down at the storage place AND get there, you’ll already be on your way back. We’re going to cause a big old thing on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.”

Tyler grins. “Big old thing, huh? I’d expect nothing less from you, Yaz.”

“Got a couple guys coming to pick the three of you up. Seven. You good to go?”

“I will be.”

“I’d expect nothing less from YOU. See you soon.”

“Yep,” he confirms, and then disconnects the call and returns the phone to the nightstand and rolls over onto his back. He groans at the discomfort in his shoulder and across the small of his back, then rakes his hands through his hair and runs them down his weary face. 

He doesn’t move for several minutes; a forearm draped over his eyes. Finding himself oddly calm; long ago relegating himself to both the seriousness of the mission and his chances of getting out of it alive. The latter has improved with news of location and the number of hostels; with Koen and Rata and Anil’s two men, there will be more than enough bodies to handle everyone on site. A large indoor space will be much easier to navigate, and provides more places to grab cover if needed. He much prefers working in that kind of environment; having more room to move and not feeling as he’s being confined and suffocated. While everyone assumes the apartment seven years ago had been easy, it had in fact been one of the harder take down’s he’s ever done. There’d been a lot of people in that little space, and he’d had to work quick and with whatever items were at his disposal once he was unarmed.

Tyler moves back onto his side; sliding closer to his wife’s sleeping form and wrapping an arm around her, hand settling on the small -but very visible- baby bump. The fear is there; that this is the last moment of this kind he’ll get to spend with her. That worry that he’ll never again experience that soft, supple skin pressed against his own or breathe in that familiar scent. That he won’t get to see her grow bigger with child. HIS child. The way her body changes and she becomes even more beautiful and desirable; the extra weight and curves and the way her face fills out and seems to glow. She’s never seen herself the way he does, especially while pregnant. And she could never understand how incredible she actually is; selflessly giving her body in order to nurture and protect a life that he had a hand in creation. He never thought it was possible to love someone more with each passing day. That devotion that grows impossibly stronger when she watches her as a mother.

Esme stirs. Giving a long, content sigh and then pressing herself back against him; hand slipping down to briefly rest on top of his. Her fingers grazing along his own and then over his wrist and across his forearm. Her touch is soft and deeply intimate, and the quietness and the innocence surrounding it profoundly affects him; tears pricking his eyes and his throat and chest tightening with emotion. When her hand once more settles on top of his, he pushes his fingers through hers and holds as tightly as she can stand. It’s desperate; all of his fear and his worry communicated through something so simple. And for several minutes neither move nor speak his eyes closed and the top of his nose pressed against the back of her neck.

“How long?” she asks.

“Three hours.”

“That was fast.” 

“It was,” he sighs. “Way too fast.”

He’d thought he had more time. That it would take Yaz at least half a day to mobilize his teams; to get eyes into Asif’s place and scouts sent north. And he’d planned on spending every remaining waking moment with her; doing whatever it took to make sure she knew exactly how much he loves and worships hers. Words have never come easy to him; often lost on what to say past those three simple -yet profound- words. The last thing he wanted -of the worst case scenario came into play- was her being left with doubts surrounding how he felt about her. Actions are easier for him; those small, thoughtfully little gestures that always bring a smile to her face. And he’d thought he’d get that chance; an opportunity to show her just how -and what- he feels. Three hours will feel like three minutes. With a deadline like that, he’s suddenly at a loss; not knowing if there’s any words or actions that could ever truly communicate how much he DOES love her. How thankful he is for the second chance he’d been given seven years ago. And how he always thought they’d have more time together than that.

“How much do you have to do to get ready?” she asks.

“Everything’s ready to go. There’s nothing I need to do.”

“So we can just lie here like this? For a little while?”

“For the next three hours if you want.” He raises his head from his pillow and presses a kiss to her temple, then her ear and her cheek and finally the corner of her mouth.

Releasing the hold on his hand, she rolls over onto her side to face him and slides even closer to him, settling her cheek on his pillow. The tips of their noses touching and their mouths mere inches apart, eyes locked. He tries not to notice the tears that sparkles in hers; the way she chews on her bottom lip as she struggles to control her own tsunami of emotions. He manages a small smile and presses his lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger for several seconds before pulling back to look at her. Eyes slowly scanning her face as calloused fingertips trace the burrows in her brow and move across the tops of her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose; travelling along the outer edges of her hair and across her lips.

“Don’t go,” Esme whispers. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Let someone else do it. You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“It does. You know it does.”

“I thought I was prepared for this; that I was ready to see you walk away. But I’m not. I’m nowhere near ready. Please don’t go, Tyler.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, and kisses the bridge of her nose before gathering her into his arms; pulling her flush against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other at the nape of her neck. “It’s alright,” he whispers, and places a series of feathery pecks across her shoulder. “I’m right here. I got you.”

The tears come now; loud, heartbreaking and gut wrenching sobs that shake her entire body and he feels to his very soul. All of those emotions pouring out of her; feeling the hot, bitter drops against his skin and the way her hands desperately clutch at his upper arms and the back of his neck. Even when things had been their darkest and their hardest, she’d never control to that extent. There’s nothing left to say; no possible words that could bring her comfort. Instead he lets her cry. His eyes closed and his lips pressed against the side of her neck; a palm sliding up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. There’s little more he can do; no promises he can make or words that will lessen the severity of what lies ahead. No snide or humorous comment that will bring a smile to her face. It’s way beyond anything either of them have ever experienced; a fear and uncertainty that no other job has ever brought with it. 

Eventually the sobbing subsides; transitioning into light whimpers and then a silence that’s occasionally interrupted by soft sniffles.

“You alright now?” Tyler asks when she pulls away. The hand that was in her hair now moving to her face; fingers clearing the remaining tears off her cheeks and the sides of her nose. He hates seeing her cry no matter what the circumstance. Especially when he’s the reason behind it.

“Not really,” Esme admits. “But I will be. When this is over and you’re back here. Safe and sound.”

“Hopefully it won’t be an all day thing. Sooner I’m out of there, the better. Last thing I want is to get trapped in the city. Didn’t go so well the first time.”

“This time you’re not doing it all alone. Or least you’ll have people watching your back. I could only do so much, and Ovi was just a kid. You pretty much had to carry the entire thing.”

“I think you totally underestimate how much you actually did.”

“I know I slowed you down. A lot. I know that you’d just listened to Nik…”

He pecks her lips. “We’re not going to talk about that. That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

What DO you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. You have any more dreams?”

She nods. “A good one this time. A very good time.”

“About what?”

“About when we got married. How nice you cleaned up; suit, tie, the beard all trimmed.”

“I was going to cut my hair too. But I figured you’d be pissed off enough to turn around and walk out.”

“I so would have left you at the altar if you’d done that,” she teases. “That was the one thing I asked you not to do; cut your hair.”

“I will never understand your obsession with it.”

“It’s just how I know you. It’s how it looked when we met. I guess it’s just what I’m used to. I’m sure one day I won’t mind if you do something different. But I swear to God, if you ever ask me shave it off again….”

“I know it broke your heart the first time. I won’t do that to you again. Maybe I’ll keep the hair and shave the beard off.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warns, and presses a kiss to his lips. “Do you remember the morning after? The hotel in Byron Bay?”

“I vividly remember that morning. And the night before.”

“I don’t mean THAT. Although, THAT was pretty incredible. I remember thinking afterwards that it felt different. In a good way. An amazing way. Because now it just wasn’t my boyfriend or my fiance or whatever making love to me. It was my husband. I don’t know; thinking about it that way made it seem different. Is that weird?”

“No. It’s not weird. I remember watching you sleep and thinking ‘that’s my wife’.”

“You did?”

“Seemed surreal; my fake wife now being my real one. Especially after I said I’d never get married again.”

“After Mark, I told myself I’d only go for girls for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, it’s easy to see why he ruined all men for you.”

“I guess it just took a certain man to change my mind.”

“Yeah, one who could put up with all your shit.”

“I didn’t come with THAT much shit. You came with enough baggage for both of us. And I still didn’t run away. Maybe I’m the glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe,” he grins, and kisses her.

“But do you remember that morning? We had breakfast out on the balcony. And it was so nice out; it wasn’t too hot and the sky looked amazing and the way the sun shone on the water…” she sighs. “...it was like I woke up that morning and everything seemed even more beautiful than before.”

“I remember you had your hair down; the sun was making all the red in it sparkle. And you had that on this pink shirt that was off the shoulder and tied at the middle of your back. You were already showing pretty good with Millie; I remember thinking there was no way you could possibly get any more beautiful. And I remember wondering what the hell I’d ever done to deserve my life; a new wife, a baby girl on the way. You were really talkative and giggly that morning.”

“I was a newlywed. It was my honeymoon. And you’re the bringer of multiple orgasms. We should go back there; stay at the same hotel. A little getaway.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“What I’m going to say next is probably going to sound sappy. Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“It’s really sappy. Like really, really, REALLY sappy.”

“Try me.”

“I remember watching you and seeing the ring on your fingers and thinking how good it looked on you. And I was the one who put it there. I remember thinking ‘I have a husband now’ and it felt really good to think it. And it felt even better that it was you I was thinking it about. Is that weird? That I thought that?”

“No, baby. It’s not weird. It’s not weird at all.”

“And I know you don’t think it sometimes, but you’ve been an amazing husband,” her voice quivers with emotion and tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “I know things haven’t always been easy; that I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. That I’m tough to love sometimes. But you’ve been the one person I can count on; who makes me feel safe and protected. And I guess I just needed you to hear that. That there hasn’t been a time I didn’t love you. Even when things were shit, I loved you. Even when we didn’t know if we were going to make it or not.”

“But we did. We DID make it.”

“Seven years is not enough. And I’m scared that if you leave…”

“Everything’s going to be okay. In and out, right?”

“Nothing’s ever that simple.”

“Maybe this time it will be.” He brushes her hair off her forehead. “Maybe this will be the one time things don’t go to shit.”

“Maybe. But I wanted you to hear all that. About how amazing you’ve been. About how much I love you. I didn’t want you to walk out here not knowing all that.”

“I’ve always known. I’ve never doubted it. Have you? Ever doubted it?”

“How you feel about me?”

Tyler nods.

“No. You’ve always made sure that I know. Even if you don’t say it, you’ve always found a way to show it. And I see the way you look at me sometimes; you think I don’t notice, but I do. And I can’t describe it; what it looks like. How your eyes and your face look. I just know how it makes me feel when I see it. It makes me feel beautiful and incredible and...I don’t know…loved.”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. Just in case. I need to know that you know.”

“I know. I’ve always known, Tyler. I knew on the bridge. I knew before you did. It was in your eyes. It’s always in your eyes.”

“I have a confession to make. About seven years ago.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t know if I like the sounds of that.”

“It’s nothing bad. It’s just…it’s about the first time. In the hotel room. When I grabbed you.”

“When you tried to choke me out, you mean?” she lightly teases.

“I wasn’t angry. I mean, I was. I was pissed off that you didn’t listen to me. But I wasn’t THAT pissed off. That’s not why I did it.”

She combs her fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“I was trying to scare you.”

“Why?”

“Because I was scared. Because I liked the way you smiled at me. I liked the way you’d always find a way to touch me. I liked the sound of your voice and the way you laughed And I hated that I DID like all of that. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to like YOU. So I tried to scare you away. Because I didn’t want to feel anything else for you. Because everyone I’ve ever loved? I’ve lost. And I didn’t want that happening. Not again. That’s why I did it. I wanted to scare you away.”

“Were you surprised? When it didn’t work?”

“I think it made me even angrier. Because you wouldn’t let me get away with it. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. From me.”

“There was nothing to protect me from, Tyler. You’re not the monster you think you are. You never have been. And I saw you; the real you. The one you hide from else. There was nothing you could have done to scare me away.”

“And to think you call me stubborn.”

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. But you're also the sweetest. And the most adorable.”

He frowns. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry. You are. You have a huge heart in that big body of yours. And you may have been able to hide it from everyone else you’ve ever known, but you’ve never been able to hide it from me. And I love that about you; you’ve never felt a reason to hide it. You’ve always trusted me; right from the first night in Dhaka. When you told me about Austin. You let me see all sides of you. Even the ones that aren’t so pretty.”

“Don’t call me pretty. Or adorable. Or cute.”

“I don’t care what you say. You’re the most adorable mercenary ever.”

“How DARE you insult me like that.”

“I love you,” she says, and pushes his bangs off his forehead. “I only hope one day you’ll know how much,”

“I already know. And I love you. So much. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You. Us. My kids. My life. Everything.”

She manages a shaky smile, then breaks down once more. Both arms circling his neck as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Can you just hold me? That’s all I want. Just hold me, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her hand and wraps both arms around her. As tight as he possibly can.

*****

Three hours later she finds herself standing on the front porch, watching as the last of the needed gear is loaded into the trunks of the ‘getaway’ vehicles. Despite the stifling heat and oppressive humidity, she can’t stop shivering; the fear and anxiety so powerful it creates a damp, cold sensation that stretches from head to toe and seems to burrow into her bones. It’s nearly a hundred degrees outside and she can’t seem to get warm. Not even with the fleece lined hoodie she keeps tightly wrapped around her.

Every time he leaves for a job it’s difficult; the uncertainty of the situation, the possibility of things going wrong, the potential for serious injury or even death. Normally she’s more optimistic; refusing to let doom and gloom settle in despite how dangerous a mission sounds. But this is beyond anything she’s ever experienced before; aside from seven years ago. How fitting that it’s the same place that carries such a heavy weight; the vivid and brutal memories of the past making it nearly impossible to envision a different outcome in the present.

“How are you holding up?” Koen inquires, as he joins her on the porch. A tactical vest slung over one shoulder, backpack perched on the other.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“You know me; I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Usually that means a red head with daddy issues,” she teases.

“You’re way too quick for me, you know that? I see how you keep him on his toes. Although I don’t think he stands a chance against you.”

“He’s been a good sport. He hangs in there for some reason. He’s been sticking around for seven years. I’m just hoping he’ll stick around for at least seven more.”

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think he’s a little too crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and pulls the sides of the hoodie even tighter around her. “I’m pretty crazy about him too. Which is why this is so damn hard. I thought I was ready; that I’d be okay when the time came. But I’m not okay. I’m far from okay.”

“Just hang in there a little while longer, kiddo. You’ve come a long way already; be a shame to break down right before the finish line. Your man’s got this; he knows what he’s doing. Smart as hell. Even if he does do dumb shit sometimes. Has a knack of getting me into trouble, that’s for sure.”

“He appreciates it. Koen; everything you’ve done, everything you continue to do. You backed him right away; when he showed up at your place and told you about the business. And you didn't think twice about helping him when all this started. You just agreed to it. Knowing how bad it could get.”

“Well, as much as I shit talk him, I really do love that drongo. I’ve got a soft spot for him. And you and the littles. How could I not? You’re the one who made him who he is now.”

“I know you’re totally overestimating my role in his life.”

“You’re the one who gave him a second chance. Saw past the mess he was. Made him a husband and a daddy again. You’re the one that’s stuck by him through all the bullshit; the booze, the meds, the job. And I know damn well he’s not the easiest person to love.”

“Well he’s made it pretty easy for me. Even at his worst, he’s better than most.” 

She watches Tyler as he finishes the last of the preparations before heading out. Standing at the open tailgate of one of the SUVs, quiet and focused despite Rata attempting to carry on a loud and animated -and most likely nervous- conversation. His eyes are darker and the furrows in his brow are present; lips set in a thin, grim line as he works at filling the pockets on the vest he already sports. This is the old Tyler; the one that’s all business with adrenaline coursing through his veins and his instincts and senses running on overdrive.

“You know, I used to like seeing this side of him,” she says. “I used to love it, actually. Seeing the mercenary side of him. Intense, focused. I liked knowing what he was capable of. Now…” she sighs. “...well I don’t like it so much now. How sad is that? What kind of wife would even think that, let alone say it? How horrible am I?”

“One that loves her husband and hates what’s happening to him. You’re not horrible. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that this time isn’t different; that the stakes aren’t a lot higher. Has he ever walked into something where someone was intentionally looking to kill him?”

“Not that I know of. Not since I’ve known him.”

“Hard to like anything about a situation like this. Considering what he’s about to walk into?”

“I can’t even believe it got this far. That Mahajan went so far off the deep end that we’re actually at this point? How did this even happen? It’s been seven years! Saju is dead, why would he still want revenge on his family? And to threaten mine? We took Ovi in; we gave him a life. A real life. A real family. We love him like he’s our own. And this is how Mahajan repays us? Threatening my children, putting a bounty on my husband’s head? How the hell did it ever get to this?”

“Some people are fucked,” Koen reasons, and she gives a small, dry laugh. “I wish I had a better explanation. But it’ll all be over soon. We’ll take care of shit here, Anil will handle things with Mahajan. He’s ready to go?”

“As far as I know. He’s got a couple guards he was able to pay off. They’re going to lead him right into the showers when Mahajan is in there. It should be over pretty quick. If you ask me, he deserves something slow and painful. But beggars can’t be choosers, can they.”

“Sooner it’s over, the better.”

“Should have been over a long time ago. If we’d been told about this when it all started, Tyler would have ended it then. But Ovi dropped the ball and then Allison and her games and I just…” she sighs and tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “...a lot of people fucked up. And now my husband has to go and fix it. What else is new? Just watch out for him, okay? Have his back? Please.”

“You know I will. I’ve followed him this far. Might as well go balls to the wall.”

She struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “Would it be too much to ask that you bring him back in one piece?”

“You got it kiddo.” He draws her into a tight hug and presses a kiss to her temple. “Hang in there, okay? We’re almost there.”

“You be safe,” Esme says, and affectionately pats his cheek when he holds her at arm's length. “It’s kind of nice having grandpa Koen around.”

“I never said you call me that.”

“I don’t remember asking your permission.”

“Smart ass,” he smirks, then playfully tousles her hair before stepping away. Giving Tyler a nod and a small smile; patting him on the shoulder as he takes his place on the porch.

“I can’t look at you,” she says, as her hands busy themselves tightening the Velcro secured straps on his vest. “If I look at you, I’ll cry. And the last thing you need is me crying right now. I can do that when you leave.”

He places his hands on the side of her face, then presses a kiss to her hair. Neither of them speak; their eyes closed, his chin resting on the top of her head, her hands tightly gripping his forearms. 

“Be safe,” she pleads.

“Always.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I wish that was enough; to get you through this”

“It’s enough,” Tyler assures her. “It’s always enough.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she finally raises her head to look at him. “I won’t ask. I know you don’t want me to.”

“You ask, and I’ll do it. I’ll stay. And that’ll just bring even more problems.”

“I know. I know why it has to be you. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It’s going to be alright.” He cradles her face in his palms and kisses her. Longer and more intense than usual. “I gotta go,” he moves a hand to the back of her neck and places a kiss to her forehead. “See you when I see you.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He pecks the tip of her nose, then runs a hand over the top of her head and down her hair before stepping off the porch.

“Hey!” she calls to him, and he stops and turns towards her.

“Remember the first time around, when we said we were going to travel when we got out of Dhaka?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You totally bailed on me. I think you owe me a trip, Tyler Rake,”

A grin plays in the corners of his mouth. “I definitely do,” he says, and then turns and heads for the waiting car.


	84. Chapter 84

They reach the drop off/extraction point at quarter to eight; a remote and dusty clearing on the border of Dhaka and Tongi. It had become a wasteland many years ago; the sun punishing as it beats down on parched and cracked land interspersed with withered and decaying trees and small patches of wiry, brown grass. On the very distant horizon to the south are the rundown and ill kept tenement buildings that clutter the Uttara district. Seven years ago he’d been taken there; to that dank and dirty apartment that Ovi was being held at. Where he’d convinced the street thugs hired by Amir Asif that he was simply there for proof of life; they’d get their money once he saw the kid with his own two eyes and given his people an update. That had never been the plan of course. Looking back, it seemed so easy; the quick and efficient way he’d taken every one of those hostiles down. It had all gone according to plan. Somewhat, at least. They’d put up quite the fight and they’d managed to disarm him and he’d had to resort to whatever he could get his hands on to finish the brutality. But he had. Finished it. And he’d gotten the kid out in one piece and had been well on his way to a not so clean but entirely successful extraction.

Everything went to shit after that.

The memories had hit hard and fast; the moment that the waters of the Buriganga and the expanse of the Sultana Kamal Bridge had come into view as they passed over. And while he’d told himself not to look, he’d felt powerless to stop; morbid curiosity getting the better of him. It was eerily familiar; the backlog of pedestrians and bumper to bumper traffic, the roadblocks manned by special forces and heavily armed police. Those seconds had felt like hours; his brain easily conjuring up moments and images from years ago. Abandoned vehicles riddled with bullet holes, bodies scattered and sprawled across the bridge and sidewalks, a mixture of blood and gasoline staining the asphalt, the constant and near deafening gunfire accompanied by explosions. It was all so vivid and real; as if one part of him was still on that bridge and the other was hovering overhead, watching everything go down in real time. He could hear his own ragged breaths and feel the pain and exhaustion that enveloped him from head to toe and threatened to bring him down. He could feel the trickle of his own blood; the reopened wound on his right bicep, the bullet hole in his left shoulder, the cuts -made from shattered glass and other projectiles- that littered his face and head. He could taste it; a mixture of blood, sweat and grime. It had seemed so real; as if no time had passed and he was still making that last ditch effort to get the fuck out of Dhaka. And it had been an observant and concerned Koen that had snapped him out of it; a sharp elbow dug painfully into his ribs bringing him back to reality and successfully quelling the imminent panic attack.

Now he stands in the middle of the clearing; hands on his hips and sunglasses shielding his eyes as they take in their surroundings. It’s bland and boring but absolutely perfect. An open view of the lone dirt road that leads in and out of northern Dhaka guarantees that they’ll spot anyone that tries to chase them down; barren wasteland providing no cover or hiding places. If trouble follows them, it will be an open shoot out; those with better vision, aim, and years of experience behind the trigger given the advantage.

“What’cha thinking about?” Yaz inquires as he sidles up beside him. Pilot’s headset slung around his neck, a travel mug of steaming black coffee poised at his lips.

“I’m wondering why the hell we didn’t think of this place seven years ago. Would have made getting Ovi out a hell of a lot easier. This would have made better sense than the river.”

“Live and learn, I guess. A lot of mistakes were made seven years ago. We all fucked up in some way.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“And things happen for a reason, right? They were meant to go the way they did.”

He smirks. “I’d like to know the reason behind getting shot in the throat. Because that seemed a bit overkill to me.”

He can’t help but think of the ‘what if’s’. Millie would exist. She’d already been conceived sometime during those five days; her existence had been guaranteed. Life would have been much simpler; those weeks -or even months- travelling and getting to know one another as opposed to all of their ‘quality time' being spent in the hospital; wires and tubes coming out of nearly every inch of his body, badgered by constant and tremendous pain. Instead of lounging on tropical beaches or seeing the sights or having quiet dinners by moon or candlelight, they’d had to resort to slow, tedious -and often agonizing- walks through medical corridors and eventually an outdoor courtyard. They’d had to eat hospital and cafeteria provided food and she’d had to sleep -albeit very little- in a less than spacious or comfortable cot at the side of his bed. Had different decisions been made -even on his part- the end would have been so much better. He could have avoided years of chronic pain and the immense feelings of guilt and regret.

Yaz is right. The fuck ups didn’t belong to just one person. And it’s hard NOT to dwell on that sometimes.

“You gonna call the kids?” his friend asks.

“It’s better if I don’t. For them AND me.”

“There’s still time, you know. To back out. If you’re having second thoughts…”

“I’ve come this far. Might as well see it through.”

“I’m just saying if you feel like you’re not up to it…”

“I’m up to it. Get off my ass.”

“I’m watching out for your ass. I know things are fucked; your body, your head.”

“How about you let me worry about those things? I’m fine. I’m good to go. Those fuckers gotta pay. Everything they’ve said about my wife, my kids. Especially my daughters. They have to pay for it. And they will. Trust me.”

“Let’s not make this some kind of vigilante deal, okay? I know this is personal; as personal as it can get. But you need to think with your head, not your heart. I get it; they said some sick and twisted shit and probably would have done even worse. But you need to be Mercenary Tyler. Not husband and daddy Tyler. Can you do that? Turn that side of you off?”

“Probably not,” he admits. “Not completely, anyway.”

“Just don’t let your emotions be in control. Nothing good will come from that, trust me”

Tyler smirks. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Yaz?”

“I’m trying to keep you alive. So you can go back to being husband and daddy Tyler. And letting your heart and your emotions run things? That’s a way of guaranteeing you won’t get back here alive.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I know how to shut it down. What’s the deal with the drivers? They gonna drop us off and hang back or…”

“They’ll drop you off two blocks east of the storage place, then come back and pick you guys when you’ve radioed them that you’re in possession and ready to get the hell out of Dodge. And I’ll be in constant radio contact with you. So if things DO go to shit…”

“Why would you do that? Jinx it like that? Don’t fuck me over like that.”

“Once you’re inside, let me know. That way I can get in contact with Anil and he can carry things out on his end. We’re almost there; almost done. As long as you keep your shit together and do what you gotta do, we’ll be on our way home by sundown. Gonna feel good, huh? To get home?”

“I tell you, after this? I’m going into full hermit mode. I’m going to stick to running things behind the scenes for a while and spend time with my family and get some renovations and shit done around the house. I’m gonna surf five times a day, if I can. I’m gonna sleep past seven am every morning. And I’m gonna take my wife on a trip. I sort of bailed on her seven years ago. She’s been waiting ever since.”

“I hear Turks and Caicos is nice this time of year.”

“I’m thinking Belize. Or The Maldives. She wants one of those fancy suites; the ones built right on the water.”

“Mister Big Spender,” Yaz teases. “Gotta use some of the millions, right? Might as well spoil your girl a bit”

“She deserves a hell of a lot of spoiling, that’s for sure. Hasn’t exactly been the best seven years.”

“More good than bad,” Yaz points out, then finishes his coffee and clamps a hand down on Tyler’s shoulder. “Kick some ass, okay?”

“Isn’t that what I do best?”

“You’re starting to become more a lover than a fighter,” Yaz chides, then turns on his heel and heads for the dormant chopper. “See you on the flip side!”

Tyler nods, then sighs and turns back to the horizon. To those apartments looming in the distance. To memories of that rundown tenement building and a fourteen year old wetting his pants out of fear. To Saju in the forest; sabotaging the entire thing. And of those five days in that dirty hotel room; his hand around her neck and those huge, dark and trusting eyes staring up at him and not a single hint of fear or apprehension anywhere on her face. Of how scared he’d been of how much he already felt for her and how desperately he’d wanted her. His heart falling in love long before his brain was ready to admit it.

Reaching into the side pocket of his cargo pants, he pulls out his cell phone; fingers hovering over the keypad as he contemplates calling her. Wondering if it will do more harm than good -for both of them- to hear her voice just one more time. He hates the thought of making things worse on her; they’d already said their goodbyes -in their own way- and she’s already struggling enough; the worst case scenario eating away at her.

He decides to send a text message instead. Something short and sweet. A simple ‘I love you’.

“Hey!” Koen calls from the open back of one two gray panel vans. “Haul ass! Move it or lose it!”

He puts his phone on vibrate and slips it back into his pocket; casting one last look at the horizon before committing himself to the job at hand.

****

He likes to stay quiet before a job; using the time to contemplate what lies ahead. How to navigate the surroundings he’ll find himself in, the best ways to quickly and efficiently neutralize a situation and the hostiles involved; organize any and all ways of evading and hiding if things go to shit and he finds himself trapped and under siege. It’s good to have all your ducks in a row; to be prepared for anything and everything that a job might throw your way. But he’s already exhausted those thoughts; the sleepless nights giving him ample time to run through every possible scenario more than once. While he’s not entirely confident in his return, he is confident in his skills; weaponry, hand to hand combat, the ability to both out think and out power. 

For now he abandons the mercenary side; sitting in the back of the panel van, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed and his legs stretched out in front of him. He needs to remember her; the sound of her voice and her laugh, the way her entire face lights up and her eyes sparkle when she smiles. Every inch of her face; the fullness of her cheeks and the freckles that dust the bridge of her nose; how the tip one ear is a little pointier than the other, that thin scar that cuts through the middle of her bottom lip and just reaches the top of her chin. The smell that lingers in her hair and the feel of her skin; the ink on her body that both his hands and his mouth long ago traced and memorized. He never tires of it. Of HER. Always admiring and worshipping every single inch of her as if it were the first time all over again. Feeling proud of himself each and every time he pulls a response out of her. The goosebumps that invade her skin or those long, content sighs or they way her entire body draws tight and shivers; how her hands grab at his hair and his shoulders and those big, dark eyes look at him with so much longing. 

He wants to remember ALL of it. He NEEDS to. Those little things that make her, her. The socks on the beach because she doesn’t like the sand between her toes but won’t wear water shoes because she says they make her feet sweat too much. The way she crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head to the side when she’s not agreeing with something he’s saying or doing and she’s contemplating whether it’s worth causing an argument or not. How talkative she is first thing in the morning when all he wants is peace and quiet and a couple cups of coffee. How giggly she becomes when she’s overtired. The way she chews on her bottom lip or even the neck of her t-shirt when completely engrossed in a book. Those little ‘honey do’ lists that she leaves for him on the fridge; always ending them with a happy face and I LUV U written in fluorescent marker.

It took him thirty five years to find the love of his life. Seven years to make a home with her. A family. And it could take mere minutes...seconds, even...to tear it all apart.

He feels a firm tap on the sole of one of his combat boots, and when he opens his eyes he finds Koen watching him intently.

“Just checking to see if you’re still alive.”

“I’m breathing, aren’t I?”

“Need an early morning nap at your old age, huh?”

Tyler scowls, then closes his eyes once more. “I’m not napping. I’m thinking.”

“So that’s the burning smell.”

He flips Koen the middle finger.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff that’s none of your business.”

“So naked wife, stuff.” Koen concludes.

“I haven’t gotten to the naked part yet. I would have, if you didn’t fucking interrupt me.”

“I was curious about something.”

“I’m not telling you what she looks like naked or what she’s like in bed. So don’t even ask.”

“I’m more than capable of imagining those things. I was wondering about the whole trip thing. Her saying you owe her a trip.”

A grin tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s a fairly long drive.”

“We were going to travel. After we got Ovi and ourselves out. That’s how we were going to get to know one another; see if we actually DID like each other or if we were just caught up in a moment. We were going to take some of the money we got paid and fuck off; see where we ended up. Never got the chance though; things didn’t exactly turn out the way we wanted them to.”

“I could always come down and watch the kidlets for a bit,” Koen offers. “If that’s something you want to do. Get away. Ask me, the two of you deserve it. Some time alone.”

“It would be nice. An actual honeymoon. A very belated one. But a real one.”

“The two of you have never done things the normal way. Right off the hop you had to be different. I remember getting the phone call; some girl I’d never heard of calling me to say you’d gotten yourself into a mess in Dhaka and were pretty much on death’s doorstep. I thought it must be something serious if she was handling that kind of thing and not Nik or Yaz or one of their people. I was impressed though; when I showed up and actually saw what she looked like. Well done, mate. Very well done. I was proud of you for landing someone like her.”

“I was pretty proud of myself,” Tyler admits.

“I remember thinking ‘how the hell is this tiny, wee little thing ever gonna handle him?’”

“Good things come in small packages, yeah?”

“Small but mighty! I remember her getting on those doctors when they were all doom and gloom. She wouldn’t let them count you out. She damn well made sure you were getting what you needed. I know I didn’t want to mess with her. I also knew you’d be in good hands. That if she was already willing to fight THAT hard for you, she’d be a force to be reckoned with if things got any further.”

A slow smile spreads across Tyler’s face. “She’s feisty, that’s for sure.”

“She’s a good match for you. Maybe not physically, but in every other way. She doesn’t take your shit, but she’s the first one to have your back and defend you to the death. You got a good thing there. A damn good thing.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and opens his eyes, then runs the pad of his thumb along over the smooth metal of his wedding band.

It’s been beaten up and punished over the last six and a half years he’s been wearing it; spots where the white gold has been worn down, many a dent and scratch. When they’d decided -rather hastily- to get married, they’d bought what they could afford at the time; a simple, whisper thin rose gold band for her, a thick white gold one with black edging for him. There’s been many times he’s thought of upgrading; something more sturdy and durable that can handle everything he puts it through while both on the job and while living an active life. But he’s never been able to bring himself to replace it. There's an emotional attachment to the original; she’d placed it on his finger herself and it not only represents the start of his new life, but serves as a reminder that it -and they-can withstand anything that’s thrown their way.

He uses the thumb and forefinger of the right hand now; repeatedly twirling the band and then pulling it up to his knuckle and then pushing it back down again. And it feels like hours pass before he finally gets up the nerve; pulling the ring off his finger with an aggressive tug.

“Give this to her,” Tyler says, and holds the ring out to his friend. “If anything happens to me, make sure she gets it.” He notices the looks exchanged between Koen and Rata; it’s a shitty situation and while normally one -or both- would attempt to lighten the mood by offering up a snide remark or a smart ass comment, both remain stone faced.

“First a death letter and now this? Koen finally scowls. “You’re just wishing the worst on yourself.”

“I need to know that things will be taken care of. That my family will be taken care of. I’m covering my bases. Just in case. Take it. And if something happens to me and I have to be left here, make sure she gets it.”

“Why are you doing this? Why?”

“I’ll do it,” Rata offers, and holds his hand out. “I got you, brother.”

“Don’t fuck up,” Tyler warns, and drops the ring into his friend’s palm. “Make sure she gets it.”

“This is way too important to you. I’d never fuck it up.””

“And if something doesn’t happen to you?” Koen asks. 

“Then he gives it back. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. I’m having a hard enough time. Don’t make it worse.”

“Remember how we used to tape our blood type to our boots?” Rata inquires. “Started doing it our first tour in Kandahar.”

“And I used to tell you assholes that it was bad luck,” Koen grumbles.

“If you ask me, not doing it was bad luck for you. Tyler and I didn’t get a damn scratch on us. I seem to remember you getting shot.”

“In the ass,” Tyler adds.

“Million dollar shot!” Rata declares, and then chuckles when Koen attempts to slap him upside the head.

There’s a hint of a grin on Tyler’s face as he listens to the banter between his friends; once more leaning back against the wall of the van and closing his eyes. His fingers move to the now vacant spot on his left hand. The ring had barely weighed a thing, but for some reason it feels as if it had weighed a ton. The space feels empty. Naked. Lonely. And the ache in his heart is far more painful than he ever imagined it could be.

****

A block from their destination they pause to strategize; hunkered down in a narrow alleyway between two abandoned factories. The former industrial area had long ago been reduced to a ghost town; decaying buildings with shattered or missing windows, rusted out fire escapes and crumbling roofs. The breeze carries the distinct smells of urine, rotting garbage, and the pollution that seems to be a constant presence hanging over all of Dhaka. Tyler remembers it very well; potent when mixed with the acrid smell of perspiration, the metallic odour of blood, and the stench that wafts off the filthy waters of the Buriganga. 

He pushes those thoughts from his mind; desperately needing those memories to leave him at bay. He needs to focus; make a valiant attempt to trade in one side of his personality -his life- for the other. He pauses before removing his SAT phone from one of the pockets on his vest; using a forearm to clear the sweat from his forehead. The temperature is punishing; nearly forty degrees and the slight wind doing little to ease some of the humidity. And when he finally pulls his phone out, he notices both the trembling and the pins and needles in his right hand; silently cursing both as he switches the device to his left.

“You good?” Koen asks.

He ignores the question and brings up the hastily drawn diagram of the center building that Yaz had prepared and sent him during the early morning hours.

“You two will take the outside,” he addresses Anil’s men. “One at the front entrance, one at the rear. You take down anyone that tries to get away. And by take down, I mean I don’t want them breathing or even recognizable at the end of this. Got it?”

Both men nod.

“Inside it’s separated into three row of storage units. There’s three aisles; left, right, middle. I’ll take the middle; rows of lockers on both of my sides. Koen, you go left; you’re a stronger shot that way. There’ll be a wall to your left, so you only have to worry about something coming at you from the right. Rata, you take the right. You’re big, but your reflexes are fast as hell. There’s a wall of windows on the one side, lockers on the other. So you’re going to have to keep your eyes open in both directions. Shoot anything that moves. Young, old, I’m past giving a shit. We need to be quick. Make each time you pull the trigger a kill shot. I don’t want any of those assholes left standing. When both your sides are clear, you get back to the front entrance and wait for me. I’ll bring Neysa and Aarev to you, then go back and make sure there’s no one left. Make sense?”

“What if one of us finds them before you do?” Rata asks.

“Then you holler for me and I come and get them. Do NOT go in the room; don’t touch anything, don’t touch them. I need things left as is; you have no idea if the place is wired or booby trapped and I know what I’m looking for. We good?”

“What about Nathan?” Koen inquires. “If he IS the mole…”

“We get him out. We have no proof. We can’t just leave him there because we THINK he’s dirty.”

“Can we leave him there on principle?” Rata asks. “On the fact that he’s a prick?”

“We get Nathan out,” Tyler repeats. “And if he is dirty and he fucks us over somehow, we deal with him. We’ll toss his ass out of the chopper. For now, we pull him out. Everybody on the same page? We good to go?”

“Is it wrong that I’m really excited?” Rata asks. “Like really, really, really, REALLY excited?”

“Shoot first,” Tyler says. “Don’t wait for them to engage. Just take them out. I’m way past giving a fuck about any of these guys. Don’t hesitate; just take them down. You can clear shit up with whatever higher power you believe in later.”

“I still don’t trust him.” Koen remarks, as they abandon the cover of the alley and he falls in step beside Tyler. “Nathan. Everything screams sketchy about that guy.”

“I don’t like him anymore than you do, trust me. But we can’t assume he’s guilty and leave him there.”

“Why the fuck not? He bailed, remember? All that shit went down? When you got jumped and drugged? He fucking took off!”

“He also killed the people I was supposed to.”

“What are you talking about? He never killed those guys. Rata and I caught up to them a week later.”

Tyler frowns. “What?”

“You didn’t know that? I thought you knew that. That they got away.”

“I heard the shots. I heard him take those guys out.”

“You may have heard shots, but you didn’t hear him taking anyone out. Those guys got away; Rata and I were the ones that tracked them down. Seven days later. Nathan did shit. Except bail on you.”

Tyler sighs.

“Leave him there. It’ll be the smart thing to do. Leave his ass tied to a chair and get yourself out of there. Fuck him. I’m SURE he’s the one that screwed you over that night; told them where to find you. And he’s probably been behind a whole lot of other shit, too. Trust me, Tyler; leave him there.”

“There’s no proof. None. I can’t just…”

“You can,” Koen insists. “And in your heart, you know you should.”

****

The first two kills are easy. Street thugs that had been smoking and chatting by the busted up front gate; the young men had seen them coming, but had never got a chance to pull their weapons from their waist bands. And while they wait for the confirmation that Anil’s man has reached the back exit, Tyler double checks both the scope and the clip on his rifle; making sure the former is properly focused and the latter full. It’s a habit most soldiers and mercs find themselves developing; a nervous trait, even. The almost obsessive need to check the things that you already meticulously planned and cared for.

“Four cars,” Koen comments, his eyes surveying the front parking lot. “Even if there’s only two to car, that already puts us at ten with the blokes you already took out.”

“Something tells me we’re looking at more than ten,” Tyler says, and presses a finger against the transmitter in his left ear. “Yaz, I swear to Christ if you’re sending me in there and there’s double what you told me…”

“Surveillance shows only twelve people going in there this morning,” the reply comes quick.

“Twelve, not ten. You said ten.”

“So I was off by two. You going in? Can I give Anil the go ahead? He’s standing by to take out Mahajan. It’s now or never.”

“Tell him now.”

He uses his left shoulder to slowly push open the main door, grateful that it swings aside smoothly and effortlessly; not a single creak or squeak that would echo through the abandoned building. They move quickly and silently; boots treading lightly over the cracked and faded concrete, butt end of rifles pressed into their shoulders, eyes focused through scopes, their fingers just shy of the triggers. The temperature inside is unbearable, a suffocating heat that grabs at the throat and threatens to choke you. Rivers of sweat trickle down temples , arms, and the backs of legs. Damp patches forming at the small of their backs and the napes of their necks; droplets forming on the ends of hair strands and dripping into eyes and onto parched lips.

There’s faint voices somewhere in the distance; a conversation being carried out in Bengali by either live participants or in the form of a television or radio. Tyler knows a handful of phrases, and the more he strains his ears, the clearer it all becomes; a sportscaster doing play by play of a cricket match. There’s something else and he pauses in his tracks to concentrate on it; the faint shuffle of footsteps -whether it be from Koen, Rata, or a hostile- and the sound of a chair being pushed across the floor. He briefly closes his eyes; attempting to narrow in on the faintest of the sounds; soft whimpering from a woman or a child. It’s hard to tell exactly what direction it’s coming from; directly in front of him, behind, or the opposite sides of the building. The vast emptiness makes it difficult to pinpoint; sounds bouncing off walls and high ceilings and making it seem as if they’re surrounding you.

He stays the course; quickly sweeping empty lockers and placing his ear against those that are abandoned yet still bear heavy padlocks. Sweat burns his eyes and falls onto his top lip; tongue clearing away the salty residue. And he’s leaving one of the empty compartments -one foot already planted in the hallway- when it happens; the resounding boom of a gunshot and a bullet striking the panelling less than a foot from his head. The initial surprise has him stumbling backwards. Catching his shoulder off the frame of the locker door; jagged metal tearing through the fabric of his shoulder and into his skin. He’ll worry about it later; the blood that trickles down his back and arm. For now he drops into a defensive position; a knee on the ground and his rifle trained on the threat. A tall, lanky figure in dirty, torn jeans and a stained muscle shirt. A thick mop of black hair and the wide, ugly scar across his right cheek.

Farhad.

“Phēlē dā'ō!” Tyler yells. “Ēkhana!” Drop it. Now.

“Nā āpani ēṭi nicē rākhuna!” No. You put it down.

“Phēlē dā'ō!” he repeats. “Ēkhana!”

“Āmi ēbāra tōmākē mērē phēlaba!” Farhad bellows. I’ll kill you this time. And his finger twitches on the trigger.

Tyler is faster; the bullet striking the younger man in the chest and exiting through the middles of his back. The force knocking Farhad off his feet. He curses himself for not following his own ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ mantra. And for pulling the shot to the right. Had he stayed to the left Farhad’s death would have been instantaneous; the bullet slamming into his heart and ripping it from its place in his chest.

“Dumb ass motherfucker,” Tyler mutters as he gets to his feet, unsure if he’s talking to himself or referencing the young man that has managed to roll onto his stomach and is crawling towards his weapon. And while he’s aware of the pool of blood that continues to gather around Farhad, he barely acknowledges his own as it moves down his arm and drips from his fingers. “Gaṛiẏē paṛā!” he orders, and slams the sole of his boot down onto the small of Farhad’s back; a scream of pain erupting from the younger man’s mouth. “Roll over!”

“Nā! Fuck you!”

He grabs Farhad by the hair and throws him over onto his back, then crouches over him; a foot on either side of his body. “You little prick…” he lands a back hand across Farhad’s face, splitting his lip. “...you didn’t learn the first couple of times? I let you live! I let you walk away! Even after you shot me from behind like a little bitch!” He wraps a hand around Farhad’s throat. “I fucking spared you! I let you walk away a second time. And this is how you repay me?!”

“Fuck you! Fuck you and your wife. And your kids. Wait…” he chuckles, coughing on the blood that pours from his mouth. “...that’s what we’re going to do to your wife and your kids anyway. Your little girls.””

He slams the back of Farhad’s head off the cement floor, then reaches across his body and pulls the glock from its holster. His free hand snatches the younger man by the hair once more, viciously yanking his face towards him.

“She’s right.” he snarls. “I should have listened to her.” He places the barrel of the gun against Farhad’s temple. “I should have killed you when I had the chance."

“They’ll get to them. Your wife. Your kids. Your wife will moan and scream like a whore. Your little girls will…”

Tyler pulls the trigger.

****

He counts eight gunshots altogether; two each from Koen and Rata, the others from outside. The whimpering he’d heard earlier has increased both in volume and intensity; full out sobs mixed with muffled screams for help. And he finds them in the second last storage unit. Neysa and Aarev side by side in plastic chairs, their arms restrained behind their backs and their ankles trussed tightly together; the crude material of the zipties cutting into already bruised and sliced up skin. Their hair has been crudely shorn, and both old and fresh contusions litter their arms, legs, and collarbones; their noses broken, dried and blackened blood staining their nostrils and lips. Dirty rags shoved in their mouths and pulled over their eyes and tied at the back of their heads.

“I found them,” Tyler says into his radio, and then winces when the sound of his voice causes Neysa to jump and cry out in terror; as if the volume had caused her physical distress. “It’s okay….” he both lowers and softens his tone; using the one he normally reserves for comforting his wife during the aftermath of a night terror, or when one of his kids injures themselves and wails as if they’re being ripped from limb to limb. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help. Anil sent me. I work for him.”

“Rake?” Nathan’s voice from the side of the room; his bruised and battered form curled up in a fetal position on a mattress stained with urine, blood, and fecal matters. “That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. How you holding up?”

“I’ve been better. Never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad to hear that annoying accent of yours.”

“I find it hard to take criticism on my accent from someone from Texas.”

“Yeah…” Nathan chuckles. “I’ll give you that. Give me a hand and cut me loose. I can help you; with the woman and kid.”

“You hang tight; I’ll get to you. I’m going to worry about them first.”

“But if you get me outta here first, I can give you a hand. I'm not out of the fight yet.”

“You just take it easy mate. You’ve been through enough. I got this.”

He turns his attention back to Neysa and Aarev, dropping to a knee in front of them and gingerly laying a hand on the side of the woman’s head. “It’s alright,” he assures her, when she flinches at his touch and begins to whimper. “I’m not going to hurt you. You speak English? Tumi ki inliśa ē kathā balatē pāra?”

Neysa nods.

He moves slowly so as not to startle her; reaching behind her head to open the knot on the rag, gently pulling it away from her eyes and tossing it aside. Then doing the same with the scrap of fabric in her mouth.

“I’m here to help. Anil sent me. I knew your husband. He helped me. Seven years ago.”

She blinks against the sudden difference in light. “Tyler? Esme’s Tyler?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “That’s me.”

“I finally get to see you in person. Not just a picture.”

“Which is better looking?” he asks, hoping to lighten the mood and ease her fear and nervousness. 

“Both are very nice. But I much more appreciate it in person right now. Anil sent you? He hired you?”

“Me and a few buddies. Us ex military guys have nothing better to do, I guess.”

She manages a weak laugh. 

“We gotta move quick, okay? I’m going to cut you loose, then your boy. Alright?”

“Alright.”

He reaches for the knife in one of the side pockets of his vest; the blade easily cutting through the plastic of the zip ties. And he pulls out the lone bottle of water he’d stashed in the large pouch on the back and uncaps it. “Here…” he offers it to Neysa. “...save some for your son, okay?”

She nods, then givens an appreciative smile and lifts the bottle to her lips

“You’re Tyler?” Aarev questions, when he removes the rag from the boy’s mouth.

“That’s what the name tag in my underwear says,” he quips, and Aarev chuckles. 

“You have kids, right?”

“I do. Five of them.” 

“Boys?”

“Three. Five year old twins and an almost two year old. The other two are girls; six and three months.”

“That’s a lot of kids.”

“We’re trying to repopulate the world on our own, I guess. Or we just like how babies are made. You okay? How you holding up?”

“I’m holding up okay, I guess.”

“You’re pretty strong, mate.” Tyler tends to cutting the zip ties. “You’re what? Fourteen now?”

Aarev nods.

“Ovi’s twenty one now, can you believe that? All grown up. He was your age when I met him. Do you remember him? Ovi?”

“A little. I’d like to see him again; now that we’re both older.”

“I think we could make that happen Okay, I need you to listen to me. Both you and your mom are loose, okay? I’m going to take you to the front entrance and…”

Aarev throws both arms around Tyler’s neck, then openly sobs into his shoulder.

“It’s alright now…” His hand immediately rests on the top of Aarev’s head; bloodied fingers gently rubbing what’s left of his hair, his other arm wrapping around the teen’s slender waist. “...it’s alright, mate. I got you. It’s over. I got you.”

“Thank you,” Aarev whimpers. “For coming for us. For getting us home.”

“Not too much longer, I promise,” he gives Aarev a tight, comforting squeeze and then holds him out at arm’s length. “Do ever look like your dad. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“My mom. All the time.”

“Your dad was a good man. A very good man. Nothing he wouldn’t have done for you and your mom. You ready to get out of here?”

“I’m ready.”

“I need you and your mom to follow me. It’s not going to be pretty, okay? There’s a lot of blood and a lot of bodies. Just pretend it’s fake; like it’s from a movie or something. They can’t hurt you anymore. So you and your mom stick together and follow me out. Stay right behind me. “ He stands, then offers Aarev a hand; helping the teen to his feet, then doing the same for Neysa. “We’re almost at the finish line, I promise.”

“What about me?” Nathan inquires.

Tyler unholsters his gun and heads for the door. “You’re next.”

*****

“Leave him,” Koen says and shoves a bottle of water into Tyler’s hand. 

“I can’t. I told you; there’s no proof that he’s the mole. There’s nothing to show that he’s had anything do with all this. I can’t just leave him because I THINK he may have done something.”

“The guy’s a fucking prick and you know it. He bailed on you! He’s the one that told Mahajan’s people where you were that night.”

“We don’t know that. It could have been anyone. We can't say for sure that it was him.” He twists the cap off the water, swallowing half before dumping the rest over his head and vigorously rubbing his hands against and through his hair.

“Tell him to leave Nathan there.” Koen says to Rata, as the latter joins them at the entrance of the central building; Neysa and Aarev safely tucked away in one of the waiting vans that Koen had radioed for.

Rata frowns. “I can’t tell him that. That’s not my call. And he’s the boss!”

“Yeah, he IS the boss. And it’s his call and he won’t goddamn well make it.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Tyler says, and then uses a forearm to wipe the mixture of sweat, water, and blood from his eyes. “Would you leave me here?”

“There’s a difference between you and Nathan,” Koen argues. “I actually LIKE you.” Koen nods at Tyler’s left shoulder. “You hit?”

“Almost fucking took one to the head. Tore up my shoulder getting out of the way. Same little bastard that shot me from behind the first time.”

“You take care of him?”

“Yeah, I took care of him. I should have taken care of him seven years ago. Fucking little shit. I gotta get back in there. Don’t you assholes leave me here. If I come out and you’re not here…”

“Your wife would have my ass,” Koen says. “I’m more scared of her than I am of you. And seriously; leave him. Fuck that guy.”

“I’ll be back in a few.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I guess your lazy ass will have to come and find me, yeah? You guys just hang tight; I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Ten minutes,” Koen says. “You’re not out here by then, I’m coming in there and dragging you out by that fucked up hair of yours."

Tyler smirks, then tosses his friend the empty water bottle and heads back inside.

*****

“What took you so long?” Nathan inquires, alerted to Tyler’s arrival by the telltale shuffle of boots along the cement floor. 

He’s sitting up on the mattress now; leaning back against the wall with his knees to his chest. Multiple bruises line his legs and arms and travel across his shoulders; most vivid shades of purple and blue, others in their final stages of healing. Unlike Neysa and Aarev, his face bears no marks aside from a slight swelling under his left eye. His zip ties aren’t as tight either; his hands move freely and there are no abrasions -new or old- around his wrists of his ankles.

“Had to make sure the woman and the kid were safe. How’d you get off so light?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re pretty fucked up. Head to toe. Yet you barely have a damn scratch on you. How come they went so easy on you?”

“Wasn’t me they wanted, I guess. And they didn’t go easy; they did all kinds of other shit to me. Waterboarding, stress positions. You ever see Pulp Fiction? What happened to Marcellus Wallace in that basement? Do I need to elaborate?”

“You know if they did anything like that to the woman? Or the kid?”

“They were too busy with me to worry about them. What’s the fucking hold up? You gonna help me out or not?”

“Where were you?” Tyler asks, grabbing one of the plastic chairs and dragging it across the room; placing it feet from the soiled mattress and then sitting down. “For a week and a half?”

“What the fuck do you mean where was I? I was here.”

“No. I don’t think you were. They would have let us know they had you. That’s how this shit works. They’re proud of that shit; they own it. Especially when they grab a merc. They would have told us right away they snagged you; would have made demands on day one. Where were you?”

“Look, Rake, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but I’ve been here. They grabbed me the same night they tried to take you out. Guys came after me, too. So I don’t know what you think you know, but this is where I’ve been. The entire time. Go and ask the woman and the kid.”

“Maybe I’ll do that. Maybe I’ll let you wait here and I’ll go and ask. You seem pretty comfortable; no one around to hurt you. We already killed them all.”

“I don’t know what your issue is, but we’re on the same team for Christsakes!”

“You know what, Nathan? I don’t think we are. I think you’re the one who told Mahajan’s people where I’d be that night.”

“What?” the former Marine scoffs. “I’d never do that! I’m the one that jumped at the chance to work with you, remember? FOR you. And I offered to help out with this job. Right away. Why would I do that if I was just going to fuck you over?”

“Stranger things have happened, believe me.”

“I don’t know why you’re accusing me of this shit or what you’re exactly accusing me of, but I’m on your side. I’m just as much of a victim as the woman and the kid. So would you cut this crazy paranoia bullshit out and help me here? Let’s just get the hell out of here and go home.”

Tyler’s private cell phone vibrates in his pants pocket, and pulls it out, frowning at the name that appears on the screen. “Hang tight a little longer, kid,” he says to Nathan, then grimaces as he gets to his feet and moves towards the door in hopes of getting better reception. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a way of greeting. “Is it the kids? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The kids are fine. Nik called. Mail arrived in Mumbai for me; by courier. From the Marine Corps. The REAL mail. The papers I was sent first, they weren't from the Corps.”

“What are you talking about? What…?”

“They were fakes. Excellent fakes. I couldn’t tell the difference. I don’t know who sent that shit, but it wasn’t the Marines. These are the real deal; I called them to make sure. Nathan didn’t receive an honorary discharge. He was kicked out. He was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia after his last tour in Iraq. He went crazy on base and nearly killed three of his men. He claimed it was a psychotic break, but there was no proof.”

“Fuck me…” Tyler mutters.

“There’s more. He was stationed at Gitmo and was caught torturing prisoners. That’s why he was kicked out. He wasn’t discharged; he was court martialed. And he went AWOL before he could stand trial on war crimes. He is not who he says he is, Tyler. He’s unhinged. Badly. And if you come in contact with him you need to leave him and let the Marines go in and get him. You need to walk away and leave him for them. Okay?”

“It’s too late”

“What? What do you mean it’s too late? Tyler…”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t hang up! Don’t you dare hang up! Tyler….”

“Baby, I gotta go.”

“No. You don’t. Tyler…Tyler!”

He presses end on the call; both hands shaking as he returns the cell to his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Nathan climbing off the bed; hands no longer restrained, a revolver in his possession as he makes his way across the room.

“She figured it out.” he says. “She figured ME out.”

“Yeah…” Tyler slowly reaches for the gun on his hip, fingertips brushing against the grip. “...she did.”

“Not just a pretty face after all, is she?” Nathan smirks, and then pulls the trigger. 

The bullet strikes Tyler in the small of the back; knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling onto his stomach in the doorway. His feet are numb. He can’t feel his legs. 

“We’re going to have some fun,” Nathan says, then grabs him by the hair and drags him back into the locker.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: profanity, violence, mentions of blood, mild torture, very minor references to rape

He briefly loses consciousness, succumbing to shock and blood loss. When he comes to he’s disoriented. Head swimming and vision blurred; vaguely aware of combined smells of sweat, urine, and pure filth. A lone voice to his right; volume muted and its words garbled, making him feel as if he’s attempting to listen and decipher while being submerged underwater. He feels groggy and weak; head swaying back and forth and from side to side, eyes repeatedly blinking in an attempt to acknowledge and recognize his surroundings. At first he thinks he’s back on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, leaning back against the side of an abandoned and bullet ridden sedan. Right leg rendered useless and the strong metallic taste of blood in his mouth; crimson rivers escaping his lips and trickling down his chin. Chest feeling as if it’s on fire; sheer agony created by a sniper’s bullet that ripped through his back and plunged into his chest. The tightness in his left lung; the distinct rattling and wheezing noise he makes every time he attempts to draw a breath. 

It’s seven years ago and he’s back on that bridge. Exhausted and in pain; feeling all semblance of strength and hope...of LIFE...seeping out of him. But there’s no visions this time; no delirious moment where he sees the blurry yet unmistakable image of his dead son. He can hear laughter though. Faint yet musical; a beautiful sound that somehow cuts through the grogginess and the thick fog of pain and manages to bring a weak smile to his face. And their voices; happy and excited as they call to him. His oldest daughter and his twin boys; giggling as they encourage him to follow them. To run and play and throw them over his head; that blind faith and trust that he’ll always be there to catch them.

Another voice now. Older and deeper. And he tightly squeezes his eyes shut and tries to identify it. Rich in tone and possessing a slow, Southern drawl; a discernible twang that evokes the smell of leather and cheap whisky. A chuckle accompanies it; one that’s both menacing and amused. It’s followed by the shuffle of boots along dirty and cracked cement; a sound that grows as it slowly approaches him. He opens his eyes when senses their presence; a hazy figure briefly standing at his side before crouching down to his level. And as the grogginess begins to lift and his consciousness begins to return, he expects to see fourteen year old Ovi next to him; clad in a dirty t-shirt that is monstrous on his tall, slender frame and jeans a few sizes too big. The words are on the tip of his tongue -“You see that helicopter? I need you to run as fast as you can for it”- but they never leave his lips; forming in his brain yet no sound emerging. But it isn’t a kind, comforting hand that reaches for his now. It's one that is rough and callused and violently yanks his head up by his hair.

“Wake up!” Nathan snarls, and tosses a cup of dirty water in his face. “I’m nowhere near through with you.”

The pain is intense. Beginning at the small of his back and travelling the entire length of spine. Some of the feeling has returned to his legs; extremely limited mobility, but he’s able to move his feet ever so slightly and weakly wiggle his toes. He can smell the blood; sharp and metallic. It soaks his left shoulder and stretches from one hip to the other; aware that it drips down his arm and off his fingers and trickles down his legs. And as he becomes more lucid, the reality of the situation and his environment returns. Able to recall the moments before he passed out. The phone call from his wife and the concern and panic in her voice as she told him about the letter -the REAL letter- from the Marine Corps; her pleading for him to just walk away and let them handle the situation. It was too late by then. By the time hung up, Nathan was already on the move; free of the restraints around his wrists, a revolver in his hand. And something wicked in his eyes and something even more sinister that dripped from his words; a smirk tugging at his lips as he wasted no time in pulling the trigger.

Tyler struggles against the hand firmly gripping his hair; thrashing his head from side to side, his legs feebly attempting to push himself away from the dirty surface his stomach is pressed against. It’s futile; he can barely feel anything from the waist down and his arms are out of commission; tightly restrained behind back, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into his skin. He tries to call out for help, but all words are held back; stopped by the soiled rag that has been crudely stuffed into his mouth. A mixture of blood and sweat drips into his eyes. A large, vicious gash across the top of his right eyebrow; the result of catching his face on the door frame when the gunshot had pitched his body forward. 

He’s able to register his surroundings. Captive in the locker that previously held Neysa and Aarev; face down on the soiled mattress. The odour hits him at full strength now; a combination of old sweat, stale piss, feces, and puke. His stomach lurches; chest heaving and retching, eyes watering and this throat burning when he’s forced to swallow his own vomit; unable to properly expel it with the makeshift gag shoved in his mouth.

“You’re just a mess, aren’t ya,” Nathan chuckles, then releases the grip from Tyler’s hair; shoving his face into the mattress and holding it there until he’s struggling to breathe and squirming against both the bonds around his wrists and the hand pressing down on the back of his head. “Not so tough now, are ya? So much for the big, bad Tyler Rake. You’re losing your touch; not thinking as quick as you used to. Turning your back like that? Maybe your brain is more fucked up than everyone thinks.”

“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!” The words are muffled against the fabric in his mouth, and Nathan gives a smirk of both annoyance and amusement. Then uses his index and middle fingers to shove the rag even further; until it touches the back of Tyler’s throat, making him gag and retch once more.

“Used to be a time where people were afraid of you or admired you,” Nathan muses. “I don't think they’ll feel either of those now; kind of hard to be afraid of someone that’s been reduced to such a pathetic piece of shit. How does it feel? To be knocked off that pedestal of yours?”

He once more struggles against the restraints. Curling his hands into tight fists and tightening his forearms; attempting to yank his wrists apart with enough force to break the heavy plastic. Relegated to dropping his forehead against the mattress and groaning into it with a mix of frustration, rage, and pain.

“You don’t give up, I’ll give you that much. Apparently it takes a lot more than shooting you in the back to take you out of the game. Guess you’ve got a bit of fight left in you after all.”

Tyler feels the mattress sink and sway underneath him as Nathan looms over him; one knee alongside of him as the other hovers over the small of his back and a hand once more grips his hair. And he screams into both the gag and the mattress when the younger man presses his knee against the fresh bullet wound; his entire body weight coming down on the injured area. The pain is intense; sharp and agonizing, causing his entire body to lock up as a defence mechanism. His vision blurs and his head swims; the numbness in his feet increasing and mobility worsening in his legs. Yet he manages to fight back; thrashing wildly against the mattress as he attempts to shake the former Marine off of him.

“You got some balls, Rake, I’ll give you that,” Nathan smirks, and finally removes his knee from Tyler’s back. “Guess you haven’t learned your lesson, huh? You fuck with the wrong people, this is what happens. It catches up to you; sooner or later. Now do me a favour...look up…” he yanks Tyler’s head back by the hair. “...you see that?” he nods at the cell phone perched on a chair at the foot of the mattress. “See what I’m doing there? We’re gonna save this little moment of ours. For posterity. So I can look back on this moment fondly. WHILE I’m pissing on your grave. And fucking that cute little wife of yours.”

“Fuck you!”

“What was that?” Nathan yanks the rag from Tyler’s mouth. “Did you just say ‘fuck you’? Is that what you said? I think you’ve got this all wrong. I’m going fuck HER. Whether she wants me to or not. And there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

“I will fucking kill you!” Tyler rages “With my bare fucking hands! If you go anywhere near my wife, I will fucking bury you!”

“You’re not exactly in the position to be making threats. I seem to be the one in control here. And trust me, when she sees this little video of you? When she sees what a pathetic little bitch she’s married to? She’s going to ask me for it; beg for it from a real man.”

“I swear to God, if you go anywhere near her…”

“You know, now that I think of it, that little girl of yours is quite the looker. Blond hair, blue eyes, cute little smile. She’s actually more my type. I prefer them a bit older, but I’d be willing to make an exception.”

“You motherfucker! You touch her...you go anywhere near her…and I will kill you and everyone you love! I will hunt them down one by one and put a bullet in their heads! You stay away from my daughter, you stay away from my wife, or…”

“Or? Or what? You won’t be around to protect them. And it’s not just me you have to worry about. There’s more of us out there. Mahajan’s been more than generous with the money. Everyone has a price, Rake. Except for holier than thou, self righteous you, of course. You had the chance; to be rich. All you had to do was give up the kid and the girl. But you didn’t take it. All because you had to be a hero.”

“I’m no hero. I’m just not a psychotic piece of shit. Who am I talking to right now? Which one of your personalities? Which one of your imaginary friends?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Or WHO you’re talking to.”

“I’m talking to a fucking psycho. A little bitch who couldn’t beat me in a fair fight so he shot me from behind. That’s a change for you, yeah? Seeing as you spent the last week and a half taking it from behind.”

Nathan scowls, then shoves two fingers deep into the bullet hole at the small of Tyler’s back. 

He bites back the scream that threatens to erupt, but can’t control the tears of agony that stream down his face. 

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Nathan laughs, then rummages through the pockets on the back of Tyler’s vest; searching until he finds the knife. “You’ve always been pretty popular with the ladies, I heard. The muscles, the pretty blue eyes, the voice. Even Nik was quite smitten with you at one point from what she told me. She’s a nice girl; that Nik. Smart, beautiful, wicked body. Not that great in bed, but…” he shrugs. “...you can teach ‘em and train ‘em, right? Did you know she was in love with you? That she was willing to slum for you? That she would have been more than happy to spend the rest of her life completely devoted to you, waiting on you hand and foot, giving you babies. That must have been a hard decision; Nik or Esme. I don’t envy you for having to make it.”

“There was no decision to make. It was always Esme. It always WILL be her.”

“You broke Nik’s heart you know; picking her friend over her. I don’t think you ever quite appreciated just how she felt about you. Everything she was willing to give up for you. And I get it, I do. You had to make a choice. Believe me, I think you made the right one. The little ones are the freaks in bed, am I right?”

“Fuck you,” Tyler retorts. “Don’t talk about my wife like that. Don’t even say her name. Get her name out of your fucking mouth.”

“Defending your woman at all costs. I like that. I admire it, actually. But…” Nathan moves up the makeshift bed, straddling Tyler’s body and then sitting down on his upper back, pinning him to the mattress. “...I still think you need to be taught a lesson. Nik deserves that.”

He sees the glint that comes off the blade of the knife as Nathan brings it into view. Hand moving towards his face and bringing the tip to rest under his right eye; pressed against the middle of his orbital bone. When he feels it puncture the skin, he attempts to fight back; summoning the will to dig the toes of his boots into the mattress, hips raising slightly and then giving out. Not enough power or mobility; the blood loss and the bullet lodged somewhere in his lower spine robbing him of any semblance of strength. And as the knife presses even further and the tip touches bone, he vows not to scream; biting down on his tongue instead as a brutally deep and slow slice is made from the middle of his eye to his temple. 

Once the damage is inflicted, Nathan calmly cleans the bloody blade on the back of Tyler’s shirt, then returns the knife to the pocket on his vest. “You know, I did like you at first,” he says, as climbs off the mattress, momentarily abandoning his prey. “I liked you a lot, actually.”

The lightheadedness returns; that groggy sensation that comes from blood loss and when your system starts to go into shock. And despite the pain coursing through him and the weakness that envelopes him, Tyler manages to roll himself onto his back. His vision is blurred; a combination of the haziness that comes before passing out, sweat, and the blood that now covers his face. It coats his lips; the metallic taste strong on his tongue. And he lies there in the middle of the soiled and filthy mattress; eyes closed as he draws in rapid, ragged breaths. Arms still struggling to free his wrists from the plastic ties that hold them together.

“Don’t pass out on me now,” Nathan says, as he once more kneels on the mattress, a crowbar in his hand. “I’m not done having fun with you yet. I want to make sure Mahajan gets his money’s worth. “

“He’s dead. Mahajan. He died about half an hour ago.”

“Bullshit.”

“Anil killed him. We planned it; he’d kill Mahajan while we made our way in here.”

“You’re lying.”

“He put two in the old man’s head. In the shower room at the prison. It’s over. And if you haven’t gotten paid yet, you never will. There’s not going to be any money.”

“You’re fucking lying!” Nathan snarls, and with an end of the crowbar in each hand, leans over Tyler and attempts to press it into his throat. 

Tyler immediately reacts. Smashing his forehead into the younger man’s face; immediately shattering his nose and knocking out his top front teeth. Then he draws both knees into his body and slams them into Nathan’s chest, breaking several ribs and sending him sprawling onto the floor. He seizes the opportunity as the former Marine curls into a fetal position and bellows in pain; using the last of his strength to push himself up into a sit. His legs are operating at half power -if not less- and his feet are almost completely numb, but he manages to push himself off the mattress and onto the cement below; forcing himself up onto his knees and then shuffling on them towards the door.

“You stupid prick!” Nathan rages, and lands a kick to the back of Tyler’s head. 

His vision momentarily goes black and his forehead and nose collide with the cement; a sickening crunch echoing through the room. And he’s unable to control the scream that erupts from his mouth when the crowbar connects with the back of his right thigh, fracturing the femur. He has nothing left; sight blinded by the impending loss of consciousness and a blanket of blood. His entire body is useless now; sheer agony ripping through every inch of him, all feeling now absent in both legs. And he's gasping and panting for breath when Nathan once more leans over him; the cell phone directly in front of his face and the muzzle of his own gun pressed against the back of his head.

“Do you have anything to say?” Nathan asks. “To your wife? To your kids? Look at the camera. Let them see you alive for one last time.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Look at them!” the younger man orders, and slams his heel down onto the bullet wound in Tyler’s back. “I said fucking look at them! Say something!”

“No. I won’t. I won’t do it. I have nothing to say. She knows. She already knows. She’s always known.”

“At least say goodbye. They deserve that, don’t you think? A goodbye?”

“I don’t say that word. WE don’t say it. We never say it.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much anyway. You’ll get to see your wife and kids soon. That’s if you all end up in the same place. And not before me and the other guys have some with your wife and your little girls.”

“You fucking prick! You’ll pay for this. I promise you that. You’ll fucking pay.”

“You first,” Nathan says, and moves the gun to Tyler’s temple. “Fitting, huh? How it all begins and ends in Dhaka?”

Through his blurred and weakening vision he sees it. Mere inches from his face. Toes and soles of dirty combat boots in the doorway and the tattered and weathered fabric of cargo pants. The gunshot is deafening within the locker, and when the full weight of Nathan’s body falls onto his, the pain and the darkness finally take over. Eyes closing and cheek colliding with the floor.

*****

When Tyler comes to he’s once more in the back of the panel van; lying on his left side with a bucket -half full of expelled stomach contents- tipped towards his face. He can feel the telltale stickiness; the blood on his face and lips quickly drying. It’s worse than before; both the pain and the all over weakness. His vision blurry and his head swimming; no feeling or movement in either of his legs. If he had the energy he’d be terrified; panicking at the inability to even wiggle his toes or move his feet within his boots. But he has nothing left; no strength, no will, no hope. All his limbs and his head feel impossibly heavy; eyes and brain unable to focus on what is going on around him. 

Voices. Koen and Rata. They’ve abandoned their usual banter and their off hand and cutting remarks; both serious as they talk in low, even tones that do little to hide the fear and worry. And he can hear the rumble of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel; each light bump or hard brake feeling as if he’s being rocked to his very core.

“What the fuck…” he manages, and attempts to sit up; his surroundings spinning out of control around him.

“Whoa...whoa…” Koen lays a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to lie down. “...easy now, mate. Easy. Don’t move too much. Don’t want to make things worse. We got ya.”

“My legs…I can’t feel my legs...” he raises his head and looks down at the limbs in question; eyes narrowing in confusion at the sight of an unknown object sticking out his thigh; thick and jagged, tearing straight through the fabric of his pants. And his head pounds and spins when the horror sets in; the realization that he’s staring down at a piece of his shattered femur protruding from his body. “What the fuck is that? What….?”

Rata gives a grim, almost apologetic smile and then yanks his shirt over his head; using it to cover Tyler’s thigh. 

“Why can’t I feel my legs? Why the fuck is there a bone sticking out of them? What the hell…?”

“You took one to the back,” Koen explains. “Pretty low down. And your right leg is broken up pretty good. Probably just the shock; the reason you can’t feel anything.”

“What the fuck is going on? What happened? What…?”

“Just try and relax,” Rata says, and shuffles closer to him; using a makeshift towel made from a torn up t-shirt to stem the flow of blood that comes from the cut across Tyler’s face. “We’re almost there. Just hang in there, mate. Won’t be much longer.”

“Chopper?” he asks.

“Hospital.”

“I can’t go to the fucking hospital! Not here. Not Dhaka. Mumbai.”

“There’s no time to get to Mumbai,” Koen informs him, and presses a rag to the gunshot wound in Tyler’s lower back. “You’ll be dead before we get there. You’ll bleed out.”

“Bleed out?” The confusion and disorientation make his head throb. “What happened? Did we get them? Neysa and Aarev?”

“They’re safe,” Rata assures him. “You got them out. They’re safe now.”

“I can’t stop it,” Koen anxiously frets. “There’s just too fucking much of it! It just keeps coming and I can’t stop it!”

“Is it bad?” Tyler weakly inquires. “How bad is it? My back.”

“Don’t you even worry about it. We’ll get you to the hospital and get you taken care of.”

“I asked how bad it was!” His hands begin patting his stomach and sides down, searching for an exit wound. “Is it my liver? Did it hit my liver?”

“Could have nicked it,” Koen says. “No way of telling for sure. Just lie still and let us take care of you. Let us get you to the hospital.”

“My phone. I need my phone. Where’s my phone?”

“You don’t need your goddamn phone!” Koen snarls. “What the hell would you need that for?”

“You need to get it. My phone. There’s a video. He took it. Nathan. He was going to send it to her. I need you to get it. My phone.”

Koen reaches into the side pocket of his own cargo pants, pulling out the item in question. 

“Check it,” Tyler tells him. “Check the last message sent. And the email. Check if he sent it.”

Koen does what he’s told, then shakes his head. “Nothing. There’s nothing been sent.”

“Erase it. She can’t see it. She can NEVER see it. Get rid of it. You gotta erase it. I don’t want her seeing that.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Koen assures him, and his eyes narrow when he finds the file in question; jaw clenching with rage as he watches the first thirty seconds before quickly deleting it. “That sick mother fucker”

“Call her,” Tyler instructs. “I need to talk to her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate. I don’t think…”

“Call her,” he insists. “I need you to call her. I need to make sure she’s okay. I need to hear her voice. Call her.”

Sighing heavily, Koen reluctantly dials the first number in the call history, then holds the phone to his friend’s ear.

“Tyler?” She answers on the second ring, voice frantic. “Oh my God...Tyler…”

“Hey, baby…” he manages, the mere sound of her voice causing a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Are you okay? Everything’s good there?”

“I’m okay. Things are fine here. Quiet.”

“What about the kids? Did you hear from them? Did you call them? Are they alright?”

“Nik called a little ago and said they’re okay. Not even a single scare or even the slightest threat in Mumbai. She said it was just like any other day. That the kids were outside playing with Ovi and Kyle; Addie was taking a nap. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” he admits, and chokes back a sob. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. What happened? How bad is it? How bad are YOU?”

“Pretty bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t come and get you.”

“Tyler…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...you’re going to be okay...you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so, baby. Not this time.”

“Don’t say that,” Esme gently scolds. “Don’t talk like that. You don’t give up, remember? You don’t know the meaning of those words. You never have. You survived seven years ago and you’ll survive now. I know you will.”

“I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t want it to end this way.”

“Nothing is ending. It’s nowhere close to the end. You’re going to be fine. You’ll get looked at it and you’ll be fine. You’re always fine.”

“Tell the kids I love them. That I’ll always love them. And tell Ovi too. And that I’m so fucking proud of him. Tell them all that I wish it could have been different.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare do this. Don’t you say your goodbyes. You NEVER say that word. You don’t believe in that word, remember?”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. It’s important that you know that.”

“I DO know. I’ve always known. And I love you. So much. I’ll get there as soon as I can, I promise. You just hang in there, okay? I’ll get to you. Somehow. Just don’t give up, alright? You’re not allowed to give up, Tyler Rake.”

“I gotta go.”

“No. Don’t,” Esme tearfully pleads. “Don’t hang up. Please don’t hang up. Tyler…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and disconnects the call. Phone dropping from his hand as he once more slips into unconsciousness. 

*****

She’s unsure of how long she’s been pacing the floor; bare feet repeatedly shuffling against the polished tiles in the kitchen. Cell phone clutched tightly in one hand, the other moving over the top and sides of the small -but very visible- baby bump. It’s comforting regardless how far along she is or how much she is -or isn’t- showing; palm travelling over her stomach in slow, smooth circles.

“Hang in there little bean,” Esme pleads aloud. “I need you to stay calm and hang in there, alright? Because now is NOT the time to be giving me issues. We need to stay calm. Or try to. Daddy needs us to be okay…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...daddy needs you to hang in there. Because once he’s all better, he’s going to watch you grow and rub my tummy and talk to you all the time. He’s going to teach you all about surfing and you tell you what life is like in Australia. And before you know it, you’ll recognize his voice; just like all your brothers and sisters did. And it’s a nice voice. A VERY nice voice. And you’ll kick and squirm for him every time he talks to you. So you HAVE to hang in there. Daddy needs another surfing buddy. He always says he can never have too many of those. Or maybe it’s a football team he’s trying to build. Maybe THAT’S why he wants so many kids. I’m onto him.”

The cell phone beeps in her hand, alerting her to a text message. Nik. Asking her if she’s heard anything yet. It’s only been ten minutes since the last time the woman checked in, and the answer remains the same. No calls, no texts. Tyler’s phones -both SAT and personal- immediately going to voicemail. Esme has left several messages; everything from stressed yet calm, to worried and tearful, and then ending with irrational and frantic. Begging him…begging ANYONE...to let her know what the hell is going on.

Her stomach flutters and grumbles; nerves had kept her from eating all morning. Constant butterflies that are more painful than pleasant, and accompanied by incessant nausea that holds the promise of disappearing as soon as she forces herself to be sick, but only continues to gnaw at her insides. Rationally she knows that now is not the time to be thinking about food; her phone could start coming to life any minute or Koen and Rata could come barging through the door to whisk her away to a hospital to be by Tyler’s side. 

Or they could show up with the worst possible news; that the brief phone call with him was in fact the last time she’d ever hear his voice. That whatever happened to him…whatever had gone down at that storage facility...had just been too much for an already damaged body, vulnerable mind, and near broken spirit to withstand. Yet he hadn’t sounded THAT bad; exhausted and weak but certainly not close to death. She would have been able to pick up on that. Surely there would have been something in his voice or in his words. She’d heard pain and fear and worry, but hadn’t heard DEATH. 

It’s something she’s accustomed with; many a first hand experience as people lay dying around her in the Middle East. She’s held countless hands as fellow Marines and even strangers - innocent civilians- took their last breaths. That rattle they make; the last of the air being expelled from failing lungs. The desperation and the pleading in their voices; requests for comfort and miraculous healing and eventual mercy. She didn’t hear any of that. And what she did hear could have been nothing more than the byproduct of fear and concern; a man in physical agony that didn’t truly believe he was dying, but was desperate for relief.

“No,” she orders into the quiet of the kitchen. “No. He's fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s always fine.” 

She attempts to distract herself from fatalistic thoughts, moving now to the fridge and throwing the door wide open. Rummaging through the fully stocked shelves and compartments and finding nothing appealing and growing more frustrated with each passing second. The futile search and the determined growling of her stomach suddenly becomes too much to bear and profanities spill from her mouth as tears stream down her face. Angrily slamming the fridge door shut; its contents rattling noisily in response.

“Esme?” Koen stands in the doorway; the front of his shirt and the thighs of his cargo pants saturated in blood. It stains his hands as well; caught in every crevice and crack and gathered around his calluses and under his nails. His face is grim; eyes dark, fresh bruises and cuts decorating both cheeks and under one eye.

“Tell me he’s okay,” she pleads, one hand tightening around her phone, the other once more finding her baby bump. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

“I…” Koen begins, then clamps his mouth shut and slowly shakes his head.

“No.” The sob is choked as it comes out of her mouth. “No. You’re not here to tell me this. You’re not here for THAT. I know you’re not here for THAT.”

“Esme...”

“No,” she firmly repeats, and suddenly the room feels as if it’s spinning. Panic settles in, making her feel nauseous and lightheaded. Her entire body swaying as she takes a step towards him. “No. It can’t be THAT. It can’t be.”

The next step she takes is wobbly; her legs threatening to give out from underneath her. And she finds herself caught in her friend’s strong embrace; his body warm and soothing as he pulls her tightly into him. A comforting hand on the middle of her back, the other resting in her hair.

“This can’t be happening,” she sobs into his shoulder. “This isn’t happening. Please tell me it’s not. Tell me he’s not dead. Tell me he’s okay.”

“He’s not dead. But he’s not okay either.”

“How bad is he?”

“I don’t even know.”

“How bad does he look?”

“Pretty damn bad.”

“Where is he now?”

“Still here. In Dhaka.”

She frowns. “Why not Mumbai? You guys have a chopper. Why not get him out of here? Get him somewhere safe? Mumbai would have been a better choice. Why didn’t…?”

“There was no time.”

“Where is he?”

“Evercare Hospital. It’s one of the private ones. Run by that doctor that Anil sent over the night. He’s in good hands there; best care he can get, I promise. When I left he was still in the ER. They were looking after him and trying to figure out what tests they needed to do; so they could figure out what they’re looking at and how to take care of him. He was breathing on his own, though. No tubes. At least not yet.”

“But it isn’t safe here,” Esme argues. “In Dhaka. The bounty….”

“There’s no more bounty. It’s been lifted.”

“It’s over?”

“It’s all over. Asif’s people are dead. So is Mahajan. There’s no one left.”

“What about Neysa and Aarev?”

“Safe. He got them out.”

“And Nathan? He’s the one who did this, right? He’s the one who hurt Tyler?”

Koen nods.

“Is he dead? Tell me he’s dead.”

“He’s dead. I made sure of it.”

“You killed him?”

“I emptied an entire magazine in his head and face.”

“Good,” she says, and defiantly holds back a flood of tears. “Thank you. For doing that for Tyler. Thank you.”

Koen once more embraces her tightly, hands slowly running up and down her back.

“And he was breathing?" Esme asks. “On his own? He didn’t need to be intubated?”

“Needed a bit of oxygen; through those tubes that go in your nose. Doctor was pretty surprised; said he’s never seen someone that torn up that didn’t need more help. That’s a good sign, yeah? That he didn’t need more help? Shows how strong he is.”

“Or stubborn. Or both. You’ll take me there? To Tyler?”

“That’s what I’m here for. Are you okay? You gonna be alright?”

“Probably not,” she admits. “But I guess I have to be. For him. He needs me to be alright. You know how Tyler is. Even when he’s at his worst or he’s suffering and in pain, all he worries about is me. Never himself. Just me.”

“Well he’s a fool in love. What do you expect?”

“I’ll have to find my things. I have no idea where anything is. My purse, my shoes…”

“Saw both out in the front hall.”

“My phone.”

He grins. “It’s in your hand.”

Esme glances down. “Oh fuck. I AM losing it.”

“Come here, kiddo.” Koen draws her into another tight hug, a hand on the back of her head, guiding it down to his shoulder. “He’s gonna pull through. He always does. He’s a tough little bastard. Well maybe not so little. But tough. And a bastard.”

She manages a small laugh.

“And when he opens his eyes, your face is going to be the first thing he sees. Just like seven years ago. And trust me; there ain’t no better medicine than that.”

“I need him to be okay. I need him to get through this. For me, For the kids. For this baby. I need him, Koen. I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” he promises, and gives her a tight, reassuring squeeze and drops a kiss on the top of her head. With a comforting smile, he places a hand on the small of her back and leads her from the room.


	86. Chapter 86

Three hours seem like thirty. She feels numb; both body and brain simply running on autopilot. Head swimming with a multitude of emotions, yet incapable of showing or expressing a single one. Limbs feeling impossibly heavy. Too much energy expected and expended with even the simplest of movements; gnawing on a thumb mail or twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, or tucking loose strands behind her ears. She’s tired; already worn out from the bombardment upon her earlier arrival at the hospital. Updates given by both emergency room staff, the radiologist, and a team of surgeons; presented with the best and worst case scenarios for short and long term progress, difficult decisions having to be made on the spot because there was no time to waste. Consent forms and insurance and financial matters that had to be discussed, legal issues that her already overwhelmed mind couldn’t fully comprehend. 

She hasn’t had time to think; no spare moment to focus on exactly WHAT she’s feeling. Knowing that just under the surface lingered tremendous worry and all consuming fear and an imminent panic attack, yet never actually succumbing to any -of all- of those things. She can feel the tsunami of tears that continue to grow and strengthen, the dull ache of sorrow and grief that sit heavily on her chest, the lump of emotion that is lodged in her throat. Yet she’s seemingly incapable of letting any of those things out, and instead has done little more than sit in a cramped and uncomfortable chair in the crowded OR waiting room. Passing the time by repeatedly counting the tiles on the drop ceiling or staring at her feet as she continuously brushes the toes of her runners against the highly polished floor. 

When she’d first arrived she’d been met by the CEO of the hospital -Anil’s friend who had visited the house just the night before- and he’d offered not only his most skilled and revered physicians and surgeons, but one of the private meeting rooms genuinely used by families with a loved one on death’s door. And while she’d initially accepted and had appreciated the spacious -and surprisingly bright and cheerful, given the circumstances the room is used for- area and the comfortable furniture, she’d lasted all of ten minutes when left to her own devices. Once Koen and Rata left to tend to the things at the safe house and the hotel they’d initially been staying at, she’d quickly gone stir crazy. The silence and the stillness unbearable; each tick of the clock on the wall seeming impossibly loud and grating. She can’t remember the last time she’d been subjected to that level of quiet. She’s spent six and a half years surrounded by noise; crying and babbling babies, children laughing and playing and squabbling, a husband that blares his music while working out and is always finding some kind of noisy home or land reno project to keep himself busy with. She’s become so accustomed to continuous noise that everything seems alien now; unfamiliar and uncomfortable and anxiety inducing. 

She’d retreated to one of several OR waiting areas. Oddly comforted by the cramped surroundings and the conversations carrying out in Bengali and broken English. It didn’t matter that these were strangers; everyone in the room in a similar boat. Some silent, some quietly praying, others gathered in small groups as they anxiously await news on a loved one. The noise and the smells are strangely soothing; the hum of chit chat and the scent of cafeteria coffee. She tries not to make eye contact despite the curious stares and the odd whisper; occasionally catching glimpse of sympathetic smiles throw her way. Normally she’s social and chatty, even under the most stressful of situations. But now she’s afraid to open her mouth. Scared that if she looks at someone and sees sadness or pity in their eyes or they try to engage her in kind yet curious conversation, she’ll lose it. That a simple act of compassion will have her throwing her arms around a complete stranger and sobbing into their shoulder. 

That’s not where she needs to be right now. Giving in to the immense fear and all consuming worry and the doom and gloom that had come with the lengthy list of diagnosis’ she’d been given; less than optimistic results from emergency x-rays, CAT scans, and ultrasounds. She can’t dwell on that; what MIGHT happen. They may be the experts; top notch in their fields and highly educated with decades of practising medicine under their belts. But they don’t know Tyler. Not the way she does. They don’t know the trials and tribulations he’d been tested with over the course of forty-one years. They don’t know how strong he is; how resilient. They didn’t see him beat the odds seven years ago; bouncing back when the cards were stacked against him and busting his ass to get back on his feet again. And they definitely don’t know how much he loves his family; the depths and the lengths he’d go to stay alive and return to them. 

The universe can’t give a man a second chance and then try and snatch it away that easily.

She checks the time on her cell phone. It’s now been three hours and twenty two minutes since he’d been taken down to the OR and a small team of surgeons had set to work. Three significant and invasive procedures at once; back and the knee and the femur of the right leg. The latter seems to give the doctors the most concern; a massive open fracture that has caused damage to the spurring muscles, tendons, and ligaments. The main fear -aside from infection setting in- is whether or not there’s too much damage and the leg will be beyond repair. That is a scenario she refuses to acknowledge. The thought of having to make that decision -having to take away something so vital to someone so active and who can’t still for more than five minutes- leaving her dizzy and nauseous. 

Instead she’s been putting all of her energy into thinking...believing...that the operation will be a success. That the damage can -and will- be fixed and the placement of an ilizarov -a metal ‘cage’ over the femur with screw going through the skin and down into the healing bone- will aid in a successful recovery. It will be a long haul; several months of out patient physiotherapy and learning how to weight bear and walk again. But it’s better than the alternative.

Sighing heavily, she places her elbow on the chair’s armrest and places her head in her palm. Eyes closing as she lets the hum of the nearby beverage machine and the multiple conversations taking place around her lull her into a state of relaxation. Between her feet rests a clear, hospital issued garbage bag; filled to the near brim with her husband’s personal effects. The clothes are beyond salvation, and she questions their mere presence among the other objects; torn and tattered and soaked in blood. And she catches herself thinking about how there hadn’t seemed to be that much of it seven years ago. When she’d rummaged through the items given to her and she’d fled to the nearest public bathroom; furiously sobbing as she irrationally tried to scrub the utility vest clean with water and hand soap because she’d thought he might need it again. Had there been that much blood? Had his things been that saturated and damaged? Or is it one of the small details that have simply escaped her after so many years? 

She scolds herself for thinking about it; comparing the two instances. And she briefly considers trying to distract herself by opening the bag; throwing out the clothes and even the vest, and cleaning up whatever is left behind. The two cell phones, a wallet, his watch and bracelets. The kids would want those last items. Especially the latter for Millie, who had made the newest one and a matching one for herself. If anything DOES happen, it would give them something of his; things that were on his person and would tie them to him forever.

But nothing is going to happen, she reminds herself. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to get through this just like he’s gotten through everything else. And when all is said and done, we’re going to put this all behind us and go home and live our lives.

“Hey,” a quiet voice greets, accompanied by the tap of toes against the side of one of her runners. And when she opens her eyes she finds Yaz standing over her. His eyes glassy and his brow furrowed with worry; a take out cup of coffee in one hand, a tea in the other.

She manages a small, shaky smile. “Hey.”

“Want some company? I come bearing gifts.”

“Company would be nice. Gifts or no gifts.”

He hands her the cup of tea, then lays a hand on the middle of her back and leans over her chair, pressing her lips to her cheek. “I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

Esme wraps her arm around his waist and briefly rests her head against him. “Thank you. But there’s nothing to be sorry for. You did everything right. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. Or stop it once it did happen. It was way out of your hands.”

“Still feel like shit about it though. Guy’s been like a brother, you now? Known him for a long time. If it wasn’t for him putting a foot up my ass and forcing me to grow up I wouldn’t have Siobhan. Or a baby on the way.”

“It’s kind of alarming when Tyler is the voice of reason,” she chides. Nothing could be further from the truth. When things are their darkest or their scariest, he’s the one that holds everything -and everyone- together. The strong, stoic type who may not say a lot, but is genuine and heartfelt when he does. And he doesn’t shy away from calling people out on their bullshit; always trying to help them avoid making the same mistakes he had years ago.

Yaz sinks into the chair alongside her, arm loosely draped around her shoulder. “How you holding up?”

“Okay, I suppose. I haven’t had an emotional meltdown yet, so I guess I’m doing okay. Some wicked deja vu though. Sitting here like this, in Dhaka, waiting for news. It would be kind of funny it wasn’t so goddamn scary and depressing.”

“I would have been here sooner, but there were things that needed to be taken care of. Loose ends that had to be tied up. You shouldn’t be here alone. Last time you didn’t really have anyone, but now you have a whole team behind you. A whole family. No way you should be going through this by yourself.”

“Koen and Rata had some things to take care of. For themselves and for Tyler and I. And they needed to clean themselves up. All that blood. All HIS blood. There’s so much of it.” She nods down at the bag between her feet. “How does anyone survive that? How can they lose that much blood and still be breathing?”

“He’s tough. Tougher than most. He doesn’t know how to give up. Doesn’t know the meaning of the word quit. How bad is he?”

“Pretty bad. They’re doing a three in one. He has a torn ACL and MCL in his right knee; they said it’s probably been like that for months and they don’t understand how he was even walking on it. Open fracture of the right femur; it’s caused some damage to the quad and some ligaments and tendons. They’re hoping they’ll be able to save the leg.”

“Jesus…” Yaz breathes, and gives her shoulder a tight squeeze.

“Gunshot wound to the lower back,” she continues. “The bullet is lodged near his spine. I had to decide what to do. If they left it, it would eventually shift. Days, weeks, months, years And once it would sever the spinal cord and cause instant paralysis. I went with the other option; take it out and hope they don’t fuck anything up while they do. If that's going to happen...if he loses the ability to use his legs...I’d rather it happen now. Here. In the hospital. Not when we get home. He’d be able to accept it better right away. At least that’s the reason I gave them when I told them to go ahead and to the surgery.”

“It was the right choice,” Yaz assures her “That’s exactly what he’d want. Exactly would be easier on him.”

“We have talked endlessly about these kinds of things; stuff going wrong on the job. But we never talked about THIS. We’ve talked about what happens if he dies, what happens if he gets a severe brain injury and has to have around the clock care for the rest of his life, what happens if he loses his hearing or his sight. But not about this. Not about losing a leg or never being able to walk again. And I’m worried. I’m scared I didn’t do the right thing. For him.”

“You DID do the right thing. You know Tyler better than anyone.”

“And I don’t care if he can’t walk again. Or if he loses his leg. Or if something goes wrong during surgery and I have to take care of him for the rest of our lives; be a wife AND a nurse. None of that matters to me. He’s my husband. He’s the father of my children. And I love him regardless. I just want him to be okay. I just want him to live. We have five kids. We have another on the way. We…”

“Wait...hold up..what?”

“Shit….” she groans, and places her palm against her forehead. “...I wasn’t supposed to say anything. We were waiting; until we got home and I found how far along I am.”

“You’re pregnant? You’re having a baby?”

“Surprise, right? It technically shouldn’t have happened. But Tyler didn’t exactly handle the recovery from the vasectomy the way he was supposed to and….well…” she lifts the bottom of her hoodie and t-shirt and runs a hand over the small baby bump. “...here we are. Little bean and I. Another Rake to add to the world.”

“More proof that things happen for a reason. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. The silver lining, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess. And that’s what he needs to be okay. Because of the baby. What kind of universe would let a man create a life and then kill him before he gets the chance to even see it?”

“He’s going to be alright. He’s strong. Tough. And stubborn as hell.”

She gives a small laugh. “That seems to be the quality everyone associates with him. You guys only the tip of that particular iceberg. Try living with him every day for almost seven years. You don’t know the full extent of that stubbornness, believe me. And I know I complain about it; how hard headed he is. But it isn’t all bad. Him being that way. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me and kids. No battle he wouldn’t fight. And that’s how I know he’ll get through this; he wants to see us again.”

Yaz presses a kiss to her temple, then lays his hand on her shoulder, drawing her into him. “I should have got you decaf,” he says, and nods down at the tea in her hand.

Esme manages a laugh. “It’s fine. One regular tea a day won’t hurt. And thank you.”

“No thanks needed. It’s just a tea.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean for coming here. Showing up. Sitting her with me. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I got you,” Yaz assures her, placing a hand on the top of her head and bringing it down to his shoulder. “I got you.”

****

Nik is waiting in the hallway when Esme steps through the sliding doors that lead to and from the intensive care unit. Uncharacteristically dressed down in a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt; no make up on her face, glossy black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pacing relentlessly; the soles of her black patent flats clicking against the polished tiles.

“How is he?” Nik inquires, and Esme gives a small start; lost in a world of worry and fear and tremendous responsibility; brain doing battle with all of the negatives of the situation when she’s trying to search for the positives. 

“Still in recovery.” It’s been seven hours since the incident at the storage facility; six spent anxiously waiting as her husband underwent extensive surgery “They just moved him there half an hour ago. I was just getting a tour of where he’s going to be for a while. This will be home for a bit, I guess. It’s really nice; as far as ICUs go. Very patient and patient family friendly.”

“There’s a hotel right across the street,” Nik informs her. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable there?”

“I don’t want to be away from him. I don’t want him to be alone.”

“You wouldn’t be far away. Couple hundred yards from the front entrance. And it’s not like they won’t contact you if they need you. You’d be close, you’d be able to sleep properly.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Esme remains adamant. “He’s not going to be alone. He deserves better than that.”

“Tyler wouldn’t want you burning yourself out. He wouldn’t want you worrying yourself sick. Not eating or sleeping properly…”

“He’s my husband and I’m not leaving him alone. Maybe you’d make a different decision, but this is mine. Respect it. Please.”

“Fair enough. I’m just concerned about you. That’s all I just want what’s best for you. For BOTH of you.”

“Why are you even here?” Esme asks, and steps out of the way of an orderly pushing an empty bed. Leaning back against the wall next to the sliding doors, arms crossed over her chest and one ankle over the other. “You were supposed to go back to Australia; with Ovi and Kyle and the kids. To make sure there’s no trouble waiting for when they get home. I thought that’s what we agreed on.”

“Flight doesn’t leave for a few hours. I wanted to check on things. On you. On Tyler.”

“He made it through the surgery. Or surgeries, I should say. There were no complications and they were able to remove the bullet. I guess they did some tests to check on his nerves and his reflexes and his legs ARE responding. Not a perfect score by any means, but it’s a lot better than they expected.”

“So he’ll be able to walk?”

“They didn’t come right out and say THAT. But they didn’t say he wouldn’t, either. They’re cautiously optimistic. And I’ll take cautious optimism right about now. He is breathing on his own, though. He needs a bit of supplemental oxygen but no intubation. They’ve given him nerve blocks in the small of his back and his legs and he’s pretty heavily sedated. Doctor said they’d keep him that way for a few days, then slowly bring him out of it.”

“And the leg?”

“They were able to salvage it. He’ll have the ilizarov on for a couple months, at least. But it’s better than the alternative. They’re going to fix his shoulder; torn rotator cuff, shredded labrum, some scar tissue from the last surgery that’s pressing on some nerves. I told them to hold off until he’s able to be sent home and admitted there. I didn’t want to put him through too much all at once. That’s a lot for one person to handle. Even Tyler.”

Nik nods in agreement. “Do they know how long? Before he can be sent to a hospital closer to home?”

“Depends on how well he does here. They said to be prepared to be here for two weeks at least. A month is the worst case scenario. That’s if there’s complications or infections. But they did say he’s strong; his heart rate and oxygen levels stayed stable the whole time in the OR. And he wasn’t conscious when he was brought in or in recovery but he is responding to stimuli.Voices and touch. So that’s a good sign.

“A very good sign. Have you seen him?”

“No. They said they’d call me when he’s brought here But I know it’s bad. He’s in really rough shape. I guess Nathan carved his face up pretty good and he cracked his open; tons of stitches and a skull fracture and a severe concussion. There’s no swelling on the brain though. At least not yet. They’ll keep an eye on him. Fingers crossed, right? Maybe he’ll be spared at least a little bit.”

“And you?” Nik asks. “How are YOU?”

“I’m doing okay, I guess. I don’t think the enormity of it has hit me yet. It doesn’t seem real right now. I haven’t even been able to see him; he was already down getting x-rays and a CAT scan when I got here, and then they took him to the OR. It’ll hit me then, I guess. When I finally DO see him.”

“Do you want me to stay? So you won’t be alone? Anil could push the flight back a couple of hours; I could go in and be with you. You shouldn’t be by yourself, Esme. This isn’t seven years ago. A lot has changed since then. Especially between you and Tyler.”

“I appreciate the offer, Nik; I really do. But I WANT to be alone with him. When I first see him. It’s something I need to do by myself. And I just want my kids out of Mumbai. I want them back home. I want them to get back to their lives. Or at least some parts of their lives, at least. And I’d also really appreciate it if you could make sure Ovi and Kyle stick to the story that I’ve told them; that we had to stay behind for a few days but we’ll be home soon. I need some time; to figure out what and how to tell them.”

“I’ll make sure no one says anything. But if the kids ask…?”

“Just tell them something unexpected came up that Tyler needed to take care of and I decided to help out. I honestly don’t know how to tell them anything else right now. I’m still trying to wrap MY head around what’s happened. And how serious it is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around for a few hours? I don't want you to be alone.”

“It’s fine, Nik. I’M fine. Honest. I’m not giving you the brush off because of our ‘issues’. I really am okay. And I just need to be alone with my husband the first time I see him. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense to you but it makes sense to me.”

“Do you need anything? Do you need some clothes or a toothbrush, toothpaste, anything at all? Name it and I’ll get it for you.”

“Koen and Rata went to the safe house and got all our things. I’m good. And they got a room across the street and are going to stick around for a few days at least. So I won’t be totally alone; they’re only a text away if I need something.”

“I just wish there was something I could do,” Nik laments, and reaches out to tuck wayward strands of hair behind Esme’s ears, then gently cradles her face in her palms. “Something I say, even. That would make this all better. I’d do it; take it all away. Make him better.”

Esme manages a brave smile, then swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat and nods. “I know you would. And I appreciate everything you have done; showing up in Mumbai and making sure the kids were safe. And I know Tyler appreciates that too. He doesn’t trust a lot of people with them. Or me. But you’re on the top of the very short list of those he does.”

“I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. I know you don’t believe me when I tell you that I’m sorry. For everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done. But I am. Sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. I do appreciate what you’re saying, but I just don’t have the time or the heart for this conversation. I just can’t right now, Nik. When all this is over and he’s stable and he’s home, maybe I can do it. But not now. And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. It’s me. All me.”

“Tyler has a friend back home. Andy. You met him at Millie’s party. He’s the aboriginal artist; has a kiddo with special needs.”

“I remember.”

“His business card is on the fridge. If you could call him and ask him to contact me? He has my cell number. Just tell him that Tyler’s hurt and in the hospital and I’d like him to call me. Please?”

“I’ll do it as soon as we get to your place.”

Esme sighs, then combs her fingers through her hair and crosses her over her chest; hands running up and down her biceps. “What’s going on down there?” she asks, and nods down the hallway to where Anil is huddled in quiet conversation with Koen, Rata, and Yaz.

“Anil is praying. He’s quite spiritual. Apparently Saju was too.”

“Always amazes me what people in our line of work can actually be into. It’s fascinating, really. How we can lie so easily and hurt people and take lives yet still believe and have so much faith in something. How long has something been going on between the two of you?”

“What?” Nik gives a small laugh “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You and Anil. Don’t deny it; he’s been watching you the entire time we’ve been talking. And I know that look on his face. In his eyes. That’s ‘the look’. I have someone that looks at me pretty much the same way.”

“Trust me, no one can look at anyone the way Tyler looks at you. And Anil’s probably just worried about you and how you’re holding up. He feels responsible; for how things ended up.”

“It’s no one’s fault. No one had a reason to think Nathan was off the rails and working for Mahajan.”

“Tyler did,” Nik points out. “He thought Nathan was the mole the entire time. And he tried telling me. He even had the evidence and I just wouldn’t listen. I just thought he was being paranoid. He gets that way sometimes; ever since the PTSD was diagnosed.”

Esme nods in agreement. “I’ve accused him of it a few times. Always turns out he DID have something to worry about. I won’t do THAT again; laugh it off or tell him he’s crazy and needs to stop reading too much into things.”

“I just thought getting attacked rattled him and he was looking for someone to blame. And punish. I should have taken him more seriously. And I regret that. You have no idea how much.”

“Believe me, I’ve said some things to him over the past few months that I regret. And nothing is more painful than that. Regret. I just hope I get the chance to tell him that. That I was wrong. That I’m sorry. I really hope I get that chance.”

“You will. He’s tough. Toughest person I know. Present company not included.”

“I don’t feel so tough right about now,” she admits. “I feel empty and broken and I’m scared and I’m just…” she sighs once more, shaking her head slowly as she stares down at her feet; toe of one runner rubbing across the tiles. .”...well mostly I’m just scared. And you know, this Nathan thing. This whole ‘you and him’? Sometimes we get so caught up in the idea of someone that we refuse to see the bad stuff or we just ignore it entirely; we hope we can fix them. I’ve made that mistake before. Why do you think I’m on my second marriage?”

“Ask me, you definitely traded up the second time around.”

“I did,” she smiles. “I really did. He’s a keeper, that’s for sure. My knight in slightly tarnished armour. And Anil seems like a keeper, too. He’s a good guy. Definitely doesn’t pull any punches or play games. What you see is what you get. And if you ask me, the view is good. He’s pretty nice to look at, isn’t he.”

Nik grins.

“I’m married, not dead. I do notice and appreciate attractive people. And he definitely fits the bill. I think he’s a perfect match for you. You’re a lot alike, personality wise. He reminds me of you, actually In all good ways. I hope it works out for you, Nik. You deserve someone great.”

“Even after everything I did? The pain I caused you?”

“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even you. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that. To be happy. And maybe this is it. Maybe HE’S it. It happens when you least expect it, that’s for sure. I’m kind of an expert on that subject. I think I’ve written the damn book when it comes to meeting someone under the weirdest and most fucked up situation. And somehow still making it work.”

“I think you and Tyler are the co-authors of THAT book. I was just thinking about you guys the other day; how it doesn’t seem like seven years.”

“Oh believe me, there’s times it feels like seventy. This would be one of those times. And then there’s those amazing days where it seems like no one time has passed. Like we’re still brand new in everything and still enjoying every moment together and just loving each other as much as we can. Some mornings I’ll walk into the kitchen and he’s in there and he kisses me like it’s the first time all over again. And it’s...I don’t know…beautiful.”

“You’ll get more of those times. More of those kisses.”

“I hope so. Because I’d miss those kisses. I’d miss all of his kisses, actually. Even when he’s grumpy or pouty and I force him to kiss me. Don’t tell him I said that; that he gets pouty. He swears he doesn’t, but he does. You know Tanner’s pout? Picture that on a grown man. On a mercenary covered in tattoos in scars. Trust me, Tyler pouts. And it’s adorable. Don’t tell him I said THAT either.”

Nik gives a small laugh, then runs a hand over Esme’s hair and settles it at the nape of her neck. “Do you want a change of scenery? They’ll call you, right? When they’ve moved him here.”

“Yeah, they said they’d text my cell. They said it would be awhile. They need to keep an eye on him in recovery for a bit. Oxygen, heart rate, that kind of thing.”

“Do you want to grab a tea? Some fresh air?”

“I could use a bit of both, actually. And a phone charger. Koen couldn’t find mine at the house. I swear those things just vanish into thin air or grow legs and walk away. And I should call Tyler’s dad. I’m sure that’s the last person he wants me to call but it is his father. I know the guy’s a dick, but that is his son and…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a deep, quivering breath. “....and how sad is it that the old man probably won’t even care? That he’ll probably say some shit like ‘call back when he’s dead’. Or ‘don’t expect me to show up at his funeral’. Because that fucker would; say those things. And I couldn’t handle that; hearing those things about my husband.”

“I’ll do it for you. Make a list; names and numbers. I’ll call whoever you want me to, okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

“You know what I think would really be good for you right now? Something to eat. When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t. Some time yesterday. I was too nervous this morning and then things went to shit and I ended up here.”

“You have to take care of yourself, Esme. He’d want everyone to make sure of that; that you’re taken care of. Especially now.”

Her eyes narrow. “Yaz told you, didn’t he.”

“He did.”

“We weren’t going to say anything until we got home. Until I saw my doctor and had an ultrasound and found out how far along I am. And now? Now I don’t even know when THAT’S going to happen. When I will get home and have any of that done.”

“Anil knows people. He’ll find someone here that will look after you. That would be good, right? Get some peace of mind? Make sure everything’s okay?”

“I would definitely take some worry off me, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll make it happen. For now, let’s get you something to eat and some fresh air. A little sunshine would do you some good.”

“I could use a little of that right about now.”

“Come here,” Nik draws her into her arms, tucking her tightly against her. 

Esme hesitates; years of hurt and torment and anger holding her back. The woman attempting to connect with her...trying to so desperately to make amends...had caused so much damage. Or at least tried to. The attempts -albeit failed- at becoming the ‘other woman’ and destroying a marriage and a family, the lies she told and the times she’d tried to convince Tyler that Millie wasn’t his and that getting married would be ‘the biggest mistake you ever made’. It is still painful; that kind of betrayal. And she doesn’t know if it will ever heal; if she’ll ever trust Nik again or even see her as a friend. But right now she IS trying; it’s genuine and heartfelt and there was remorse and guilt in her eyes. And that hug feels so good; the warmth coming off of Nik’s body, the strength and conviction in those arms, the hand that runs up and down her hair. It’s real; the first real embrace and source of comfort that she’s had all day. And she finally gives into it; both arms circling Nik’s waist and her forehead coming to rest against Nik’s shoulder.

Still the tears don’t come.

****

The main nurse in charge of his care is an older woman; born, raised, and educated in Minnesota. Julie. “But you can call me, Jules”. Shortly after graduation from nursing school, fate...and love...had intervened; sending her on a humanitarian trip into the slums of Dhaka where she met a local doctor. She never moved back to the States; choosing to reside in Bangladesh; bringing three children into the world -all medical professionals themselves- who in turn have made her a ‘nana’ seven times over. She has that quality; a caring, gentle, and adoring grandmother. A kind, round face and dark, sympathetic eyes; hands that are warm and soft when she shakes yours or touches your shoulder or taps your cheek. 

The small talk and the ‘getting to know you’s’ had been a change; her day filled with conversations filled with surgeons and would care specialists and a ‘slightly concerned’ specialist who was troubled by ‘irregular eye movements’ during a neurological exam. Nothing but medical jargon she didn’t fully understand and no one seemed interested in explaining; depressing news and worst case scenarios and warnings not to ‘get her hopes up’. Talking with Julie had been an escape. Being able to share her own story about meeting the love of her life and never going home again. Showing the nurse pictures of her children; bragging about how beautiful and smart they are; how blessed they are to have such an amazing, hands on father who they adored. And vice versa.

But it hadn’t taken long for reality to set in. And despite the comforting hand -and surprisingly strong- hand resting on her shoulder, she hadn’t been able to handle it. The hours of preparing herself for the moment had done nothing in the end; spending less than half a minute at his bedside before she had to flee. She had imagined what he would look like; the shape he’d be in. Putting together all the information she’d been given from the doctors and creating a vivid image in her mind. Her brain had been overly optimistic; painting a brighter and more positive image than what she’d come face to face with. She hadn’t prepared for THAT. The bruising and swelling; the rows of stitches above his right eye, across the top of his forehead, and under his right eye. That one is the worst; stretching all the way from the middle of the orbital bone to his temple. And she certainly hadn’t been ready to see the central line -for fluids and medications- placed in his chest. Or the severity of the cage like apparatus encasing his thigh.

Now she stands in the room’s private bathroom. Hunkered over the sink with her palms against the ledge; struggling not to vomit. It’s all too much; the reality of the situation. The direness of his condition hitting with such force that she feels as if she can’t breathe. Her lungs tightening and her stomach clenching; the ache in her chest -her heart- unbearable. And she feels ashamed. That seeing him that way affected her so badly. That the love of her life...the man she’d fallen so easily for seven years ago- is at his weakness and more vulnerable and he can’t even count on her to keep her shit together.

A soft knock comes to the door, and before she can respond, the nurse steps inside. A sympathetic smile curving her lips; a tiny plastic cup of meds in one hand, a styrofoam one filled with ice water in the other. 

“Are you okay?” Julie asks.

“No,” Esme admits. “I am so far from okay.”

“Here,” the nurse offers the med. “For your stomach. The nausea.”

“Is it safe?” 

Julie arches an eyebrow.

“Baby safe,” she clarifies. “I need it to be safe. I can’t take anything that isn’t. I can’t take any chances. Especially with this one.”

“You’re…”

“We just found out. Two weeks ago. I don’t even know how far along I am. I just know I can’t take any chances. We lost one. A few years ago. I need this baby to be okay. HE needs it to be okay. He wouldn’t be able to take it if something happened. He wouldn’t be able to handle another loss.”

“It’s safe,” Julie assures her, and Esme gives a grateful, appreciative smile and takes the meds offered; dumping them into her mouth and washing them down with a sip of water.

“I hate myself,” she says. “For having to leave like that. For having that reaction to him. Of all people. He’s my husband. The father of my children. And that’s how I react? What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. This is a lot for anyone to go through. It's hard seeing the people we love when they’re sick or injured. And seeing them at THAT extent? It’s a shock; no matter how much we try to prepare ourselves.”

“I’ve seen him in bad shape. Seven years ago. I held him when he was dying; I stuck my fingers in his neck to try and keep him alive. But he didn’t look like that. He was in really rough shape but he wasn’t THAT bad. God, I sound horrible. I’m a piece of shit for a wife. I’m sorry. Language.”

“Oh honey, I’ve heard AND said worse. You don’t have to hold your tongue around me. And it’s him that you’re having trouble seeing. It’s the situation. The loss of control. Feeling helpless because you can’t fix things. Fix HIM. That’s what you can’t handle.”

Esme nods in agreement. “It scares me. Seeing him like that. Because he’s usually the one that takes care of everyone else. He’s the strong one. The one that holds everything together when it feels like it’s falling apart. I mean, I had a labour so fast, that I had to give birth in my own home. He delivered his son. And he was so calm and so strong and to see him like this? It’s hard. Accepting it. Seeing what was done to him. And I’m angry. I am so fucking angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I just thought I could handle it. And now I can’t. I’m terrified. Of seeing him like and not knowing if he’ll make it. Do you know if he will? Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s doing very well so far.”

“I need someone to tell me he’s going to be okay. That he’s going to get past this. Because all I’ve heard so far is negative and I need something possible to hold onto. To keep me going. Because I’m scared and I’m lost and I don’t know how to help him. And I’ve always been able to help him.”

“All you can do is be with him. Hold his hand. Talk to him. Tell him you love him.”

“I remember seven years ago, when he came out of the coma, he could recite things I said to him while he was out. Almost word for word. Do you think it will be the same this time?”

“He can hear you. And he’s reacting to voices and touch. It’s just very heavy sedation; you might not get a response every time. But he CAN hear you. His brain is working. We’ve seen signs of that already. Let that be the positive you carry. That he can hear you.”

“I don’t want him to hear me get upset. I don’t want to cry around him. Because he worries about me. All the time. And if he knows I’m having a hard time, it will stress him out. And he doesn’t need to be stressed. I need a few more minutes to get myself together.”

“Take your time, love. I’m going to do rounds; I’ll come back and check on you both. Hang in there,” she gently pats Esme on the cheeks. “You’re a lot stronger than you think.”

****

“Tyler?” Her voice is barely above a whisper as she stands at the side of his bed. A hand tightly gripping one of his, the other resting on the top of his head; thumb repeatedly brushing across his forehead. 

She refuses to let the tears fall, or let fear and sadness creep into her voice. Instead she presses soft, feathery kisses across his brow and down the bridge of his nose; each eye and cheek, then his lips.

“I know you can hear me. Remember last time? When you woke up you were able to tell me a lot of things that I said to you. Even when I called you a massive dick for stressing me out. And I know that right this second that brain of yours? It’s coming up with some rude comment about YOUR dick. Do I know you or what? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. Maybe even more than half. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” 

Esme gently combs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss on his forehead. 

“You’re doing so well,” she praises. “Better than anyone thought you would. No breathing tube this time. You’re handling that all on your own. And you’re so strong and so brave and if anyone can get through this, it’s you. If you can survive seven years ago, you can survive this, right? I know you can. And I’m not going to let any asshole doctor tell me otherwise. They don’t know you. Not like I do. They don’t know how hard you’ll fight to get back to your family. But I do.”

She hooks a foot around the leg of a nearby chair and pulls it to the side of the bed; pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before gathering the sides of the hoodie -HIS hoodie- around her body and sitting down. 

“This is a lot nicer than the last ICU we were in,” she says, reaching through the safety railing and taking one of his hands in both of hers. “There’s a shower room and a kitchen for families and a TV room they can sit in when they need a bit of a break. Your nurse is nice. But she’s old enough to be your mother, so don’t get any funny ideas or your hopes up about sponge baths. And your room is pretty big; the little out bed thing is actually a small couch. Quite a step up from the chair thing I had to sleep in last time. And remember your least favorite thing from seven years ago? Having to have a catheter? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there was no other choice. At least you got to miss the part where they put it in.. Always a bright side, right? You always say that. About everything. You always make sure I know what the bright side of every shitty situation is. And you’re always right, too. They always do turn out to be the bright sides. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that. That you’re always right. Because of all the things I’m saying, that will be the one you remember. And you will hold that over my head for the next fifty years. That’s now much longer you’re stuck with me for. Sorry if you thought you were bailing on me. You’ve got a lot more years left of putting up with my shit.”

She releases his hand, gently turning it over and grazing her nails along his fingers and palm. Smiling when the heart rate monitor beeps, recording a slight change. “I forgot; that’s the ticklish hand. Weird how all the boys are the same; left hand and the inner thighs. I sent them back; to Australia. The kids. I haven’t told them anything yet. To be honest, I don’t know what to say. But I do know that you’d tell me to get them out of Mumbai and send them home. So that’s what I did. Kyle and Ovi went with them and Anil and Nik will stay with them for a bit; just to make sure trouble didn’t follow. And speaking of Anil and Nik, do I ever have some gossip to tell you. But I’ll make you wait until you wake up for that. It should be a few days; until you come out of it completely.”

She traces slow, soft circular patterns on his palm and the inside of his wrist. “I want you to know that we’re okay. The kids and I. No one showed to hurt me OR them. And I don’t know exactly what happened or what went wrong, or what you remember, but you got Neysa and Aarev out and they’re on their way home. They’re going to be okay. It’ll take a while; to get over everything. But they’ll be fine. Thanks to you. And I’m so proud of you, Tyler,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I’m always proud of you. I know I bitch about the job a lot; how you’re away from home so much. But it’s just because I worry about you. It doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you, though. And speaking of being proud…you being the proud daddy to be and all...Anil’s going to set up an appointment for me. So we can find out how far along I am. And get an ultrasound done. That way you’ll have your very first picture to put on the fridge.”

She draws his hand through the railing, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist before carefully setting his arm down on the mattress and standing up. “I need you to listen to me Tyler James. And you know it’s serious when I use BOTH your names.” She rests a hand on his stomach, the other brushing his bangs off his forehead and then settling on the top of his head. “I need you to know that I’m okay. Because I know right now…even with everything that’s going on with you...that you’re worried about me. And you don’t have to be. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’ve got people watching out for me and taking care of me. So you don’t need to worry about any of that, okay? Because you always put me first no matter what you’re going through. Right now, I need you to put yourself first. For once. I really need you to do that, alright? I promise I’m fine. And the baby’s fine and the kids are fine. We’re all fine. But we need YOU to be fine, too. So you have to put yourself first for a change. I know that’s hard for you. But it’s what I need you to do. It’s important you do it. And I love you…” she presses a kiss to his lips and then rests her forehead against his. “...I love you so much. And I’ll be here when you wake up. I told you I’d get to you. Somehow. It’s what we do, right? Bust our asses to take care of each other.”

She nuzzles the tip of her nose against the bridge of his. 

“I love you,” she says again. “You need to rest, okay? You’re finally pain free. At least for now. You’re finally at peace.”

She kisses him a final time, then sits back down in the chair and tucks her knees into her chest. Drawing the hoodie around her body once more as she settles in for a long night.


	87. Chapter 87

She dreams of the first Christmas in Telluride. That old farmhouse long before the extensive renovations that had transformed it from drafty and ill kept to a beautiful, warm place perfect for a growing family. It had had promise. High ceilings and original hardwood floors that could be refurbished. Thirty acres of property that backed onto a creek and woodlands and came with an incredible view of the snow capped mountains. After months of living with her mother and step father while getting their underneath them, the home represented the official start of their new lives in the States. Set a thousand feet from the main road and surrounded by towering trees, it had provided peace and quiet and a sense of safety and security; two things they both craved and believed would be the perfect setting for raising children in. At the time they’d had no plans of ever returning to Australia, and while Tyler had initially struggled with the culture shock and the enormous change he’d made in his life, he’d actually adjusted quite well to the change of scenery and the colder climate. There hadn’t really been anything for him back home; aside from a couple of old friends. His relationship with his father had always been toxic, and only became more so with each passing year. A change will be good, he had said. And his words had quickly been proven right. 

There were no memories haunting him in Colorado, and a drastic change came with the trading in of the beach and sweltering heat for the mountains and the forests and the cooler air. He was noticeably happier; smiling and laughing more and possessing a much more positive outlook on their lives and their future. The ghosts of his pasts didn’t follow him there, and he started sleeping better and rekindled the passion for working out religiously; putting on the weight and the muscle -and the some- that he’d lost during that long and often agonizing recovery after Dhaka. They’d just had Millie then. Ten months old and chubby cheeked; thick and wavy sandy blond hair and enormous blue eyes framed by impossibly long, dark lashes. An extremely happy and healthy baby. Full of curiosity and wonder and in love with the world; always giggling and smiling and in turn making their lives even brighter. The twins hadn’t even arrived yet; a month before they'd make their rather dramatic entrance into the world. 

He’d gotten up in the middle of the night with an uncharacteristically unsettled and grumpy Millie; a mixture of teething and a stubborn cold that was making it hard for her to sleep. And when an hour passed and he still hadn’t returned to the warm confines of their bed -either alone or with the baby- yet all was silent in the house, she’d gone looking for them. She’d expected to find him passed out on the couch with Millie on his chest, but instead discovered him standing in front of the Christmas tree. The lights on and their daughter in those strong, protective arms; voice soft and quiet as he talked to Millie about her very first Christmas that was quickly approaching. About how spoiled she’d be and how he was happy that she got to experience the extra bonus of having snow; how he’d always dreamed of experiencing a white Christmas when he was a kid. 

And he’d told her about what the holidays were like when he was growing up. How his mum put so much time and effort into making it amazing for him; sharing the traditions she’d grown up with and creating her own that he’d hopefully one day continue with his family. It was the one time of the year his father wasn’t drunk. When he stuck to only one glass of wine at dinner and never raised his voice or his hand to either of them. For twenty fours hours, they were a normal family, and that night he’d go to bed and pray for one last Christmas gift: that he’d wake up and his father wouldn’t go back to his ‘old self’. That wish never came true, and once his mother died, Christmas lost any and all meaning or importance for him. Relegated to just ‘another day’ in his life; another chance for the old man to beat the shit out of him and degrade him and try to break his spirit. 

He’d tried with his first marriage and child. Attempted to get into the Christmas spirit and bring back some of his mother’s traditions; wanting to make the time magical and beautiful for his son. But he could never seem to totally commit to it; too many bad memories holding him back. The pain of his mother’s passing and his father’s treatment of him still too raw, even though it had been more than fifteen years prior. But he was determined this time, he’d told Millie, as he stood there with her in his arms. Things would be different. HE’D be different. Because she and her momma and her soon to be born brothers deserved that; a husband and a father who was ‘all in’. Someone totally committed to making every second of every day matter. He wanted to be a better person this time around. A better man.

It had been a beautiful thing to hear. And see. This big, strong man covered in scars and tattoos, looking at his little girl with so much love and awe in his eyes. And Millie caught up in looking at him with pure adoration AND at the tree; amazed by the multicoloured lights and her little hands exploring the branches and the decorations. Esme hadn’t had the heart to disturb them, and she’d never told him about what she’d witnessed. That moment had been reserved for father and daughter. Instead she’d just gone back upstairs and returned to bed; pretending to wake up when he finally climbed back in beside her a half an hour later. 

She stirs to the ring of her cell phone; muffled by its resting place under the pillow next to her. She had somehow managed to drift off, her body and mind finally giving in to exhaustion; lulled into a restless sleep by the continuous beeping of the EKG machine and her husband’s soft, slow breathing. The room is dark; illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window above her head and the glow of the bedside monitor. At first she’s disoriented. Blindly reaching for that solid, warm body that is usually beside her, but finding nothing but cool, crisp hospital issued sheets. It effectively snaps her fully awake and plunges her back into reality. The dream had been so vivid; as if she was experiencing that tender, beautiful moment for the very first time. 

It’s heartbreaking to wake up to. Her children thousands of miles away, her husband’s life still teetering on a very narrow and dangerous ledge, the sounds of hospital life just beyond the closed door; bells routinely going off signally patients -or their families- need help, the quiet chatter of the nurses at the central workstation. And for a moment she doesn’t move; lying on her back in the middle of that little pull out couch, tears filling her eyes and a tremendous ache inhabiting her chest. She feels empty. Lonely. All of the fear and the worry and the anger sitting so heavily on her heart. And when her phone stops ringing and then immediately starts up again, she gives herself a pep talk: “You can do this. You HAVE to do this. He needs you to do this. He needs YOU.”

She reaches under the pillow and snags her cell, frowning at the word HOME emblazoned across the screen. She glances at the illuminated wall clock across the room; it would be just shy of five am in Cooktown. She can’t help but think the worst; that the situation isn’t over after all and troubled has followed them home. And she tries to keep the panic out of her voice when she answers.

“Hello?”

“Mommy?” That little voice greets. A harsh whisper; neither tearful nor scared.

“Amelia.” She hasn’t used that name in years. Adopting the moniker Millie when the then three year old decided that was what she preferred to be called. And she quickly sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed; shoving her feet in the pair of flip flops that sit on the floor next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Well...yeah...there IS something wrong.”

“What’s going on?” She rakes a hand through her hair as she stands, then grabs the hoodie off the chair beside Tyler’s bed and shrugs into it. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.”

“It’s five in the morning, doodle. What are you doing up? You should be asleep.”

“Is daddy there?”

“No,” Esme lies, then steps out into the hall. Giving a small smile and a nod in greeting to the armed guard -one of Anil’s people- that sits next to the door. A precaution; in case some loyal and overzealous fan of Asif’s or Mahajan’s attempts to cause trouble. “He’s not.”

“Where is he?”

“He had to go and do some things.”

“Work things?”

“Yeah. Last minute stuff. Things that couldn’t wait and he had to get done.”

“Do you know when he’s going to be back? I tried calling his cell but it just went to voicemail. I want to talk to him. I want to talk to daddy.”

“He probably has his phone turned off. It’s important work stuff.”

“I’m important,” Millie reminds her. “And daddy always says that us kids are more important than anything else.”

“Well you guys are. You ARE the important thing to him. But I don’t think he was expecting you to call at this time of night. Not when you’re supposed to be in bed. Sleeping. And why aren’t you? Sleeping?”

“I had a bad dream. So I went into your room to get daddy. I forgot you guys weren’t home yet. Daddy always helps me after a bad dream. Always. He makes me warm milk and oatmeal and then he lies on the couch with me and rubs my tummy until I fall asleep.”

“Maybe you can ask Ovi or Uncle Kyle to do that,” Esme suggests.

“I don’t want Ovi or Uncle Kyle. I want daddy. That’s what daddy does for me. Not anyone else. I don’t want anyone else doing it. Just daddy.”

“Millie, we are thousands of miles away. Even if he was here, he wouldn’t be able to do anything for you.”

“But I could hear his voice and it would make me feel better. Remember how sometimes when he’s away for his job, I’ll call him and he’ll talk to me until I fall asleep again?”

“But he can’t do that, sweetie. Because he’s not here.”

“But if he’d turn his cell back on, he could do it. Can you call him on his other phone? His work one? And tell him I need to talk to him? If you tell him I had a bad dream, he’ll turn his other phone back on and call me. I know he will.”

“Millie, I can’t call him. He’s busy. And not even I can talk to him right now. I’m sorry. I wish daddy COULD talk to you. But he can’t.”

“Is he okay?” 

Esme blinks. “Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

“You sound sad. Why are you sad? Is daddy okay? Did something happen to him? Is that why you’re sad?”

“Nothing happened, doodle. And I’m not sad. I’m just tired. It’s only one in the morning here.”

“I’m sorry, mommy. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I miss you so much.”

“Will you and daddy be home soon?”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so too. Will you tell him I called? I left him two messages. On his cell. Will you tell him to listen to them?”

“I’ll tell him. I promise.”

“Ask him to call me later. I want to talk to him, okay?”

Esme nods, then swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat. “Okay.”

“I love you, mommy. Tell daddy I love him. That I miss him. Today is Saturday. The sun will be up soon. We always watch the sunrise together on Saturdays and then we have breakfast and go surfing.”

“I know you do,” she brushes away the tears that finally manage to escape. “I know you guys do that together. And you’ll get to it again when we’re home, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re not sad? You sound sad, mommy.”

“I’m okay. Just tired. And homesick. I miss you. I miss all of you. So much.”

“I miss you too, mommy. I’m sorry I woke you up. You can go back to sleep now. I’m going to take Saju out to pee; he can watch the sun come up with me.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure he’ll like that. I love you.”

“I love you, mommy. Tell daddy I love him. And give him a hug and kiss from me.”

“I will,” Esme promises, and then disconnects the call. 

Her hands violently tremble, making it nearly impossible to tend to the simple task of slipping her phone into her pocket. The ache in her chest worsens and her legs feel numb; threatening to give out from under her And she slumps back against the wall as the first sob escapes a pitiful, choked sound accompanied by another she attempts to to stifle with her hand. All she can hear is her daughter’s voice; tiny and beautiful and so innocent. Millie’s words replaying over and over again in her mind. About wanting to talk to her daddy...NEEDING to talk to him...because he’s the only one that can make things better. The one she relies on to chase away the monsters and make her feel safe and secure again. Six years old and her father is her entire world. That precious little girl who’d inherited his eyes and his smile.

The tears finally come.

****

When the return to sleep fails her, she heads to the family kitchen. It’s spacious and modern and stocked with free ‘goodies’ donated by the hospital; various flavours of teas and coffee, pastries and other desserts, and a selection of non perishables. Each family is given a small pantry and bar fridge marked with their last name; safe places to keep things purchased with their own money. It’s the small comforts that make a difference; those tiny details and touches that somehow manage to lift some of the stress, fear, and worry that have become your driving forces. 

She boils water; thumbing through the wide selection of flavoured teas that sit in an ornate basket on the counter. And she freezes when she hears it; blood running cold and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The distinct sounds of wailing and sobbing coming from somewhere on the ward. At first it makes her heart skip a beat, then causes it to pound furiously in her chest. It’s gut wrenching; the harsh reality of someone else’s grief. Someone else’s loss. It makes you sympathetic towards them but also fearful that you just may encounter the same situation. You can prepare yourself for it; the chance that the person you love may not make it out of a place like this. That they may never improve and will only experience setback after setback and never find themselves well enough for the ‘step down’ unit. It would be foolish NOT to consider that. 

But you’re never fully prepared for when it actually does happen. The loss enormous. Sorrow profound. Seven years ago, the loss would have been tremendous; robbed of what ‘could have been; and left to go through a pregnancy alone and then raise a child that belonged to a dead man. Now it would be catastrophic. Years of giving everything of yourself to someone; loving them with every bit of your body, heart, and soul and getting that same love in return. Having someone that looks at you as if you’re the most incredible and beautiful being on earth; their devotion and faithfulness unconditional and going hand in hand with their willingness to protect you at all costs. And having a family together has only elevated things ever further; creating life together and then getting to share in both the joys and the tribulations of raising them. It’s a partnership; working side by side and each bringing out the best in the other. And all of a sudden that is taken away…

She refuses to think about it. What life would be like without him. The enormous hole that would be left behind. Losing her father as a teenager had been bad enough; a loss that she still mourns even decades later. But to lose your entire world? The love of your life?

“Stop!” Esme orders aloud, and then inwardly scolds herself for letting her thoughts go to that dark, horrible place. It almost feels like a betrayal; counting him out at the very beginning of the fight. He’s never given up; no matter how dire a situation or how exhausting -whether physical or mental- the battle is. Always the one to keep her going when things seem hopeless. If the situation was reversed, he wouldn’t give up on her, and she feels ashamed for even considering doing it to him. 

She turns away from the counter, mug of tea in hand then gives a small start and a ‘fuck!’ when she discovers she’s not alone. A man younger than herself; smooth, dark skin, a shock of black, curly hair, and kind, chocolate brown eyes.

“My apologies,” he gives a sheepish smile. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t even hear you come in. Lost in my own little world, I guess.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have that little world. A place to escape to. To get away from this The smells, the sights, the sounds. That machine...the beep, beep, beep...drives me insane.”

“I hear you. I think the sound is permanently etched in my brain. It’ll be a long time before it disappears. And I just got here.”

“What are you in for?” he asks, as she moves towards the door. “Sorry. I try for humour; when things are difficult. It’s how I deal with the stress. How I cope.”

“I hear you on that, too. I’m the same way. I guess I try cracking jokes or making light of things because I’m hoping it will make ME feel better. It drives my husband crazy sometimes. Especially when a situation definitely does NOT call for it. Or I ramble. Kind of like what I’m doing right now. Only about ten times worse. He’s the strong, silent type. I’m the chatty one. Even during moments I shouldn’t. Like right now for instance. Sorry. I ramble. Like I said.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We all have our ways of coping. Is that why you’re here? For your husband?”

Esme nods, then leans back against the doors, eyes riveted on her cup as she repeatedly dunks the tea bag into the boiling water. It’s nerves; the fear that those threatening tears will let loose. She’d thought there were no tears left after her emotional meltdown following her conversation with Millie. That she’d cried herself dry. At least for the time being. And the last thing she wants is to lose it in front of a complete stranger. 

“He got hurt,” she says. “At work.”

“He works here? He’s from Bangladesh?”

“He’s Australian, actually.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“We are. A very long way. Or least it seems like a very long way. I know; I don’t have an accent. Or if I do, it’s just starting and not very noticeable. I’m originally from Colorado.”

“And you married someone from Australia? How did that happen? You met on vacation?”

“Through work. We were assigned to the same project.”

“And he’s hurt? Bad?”

“Bad enough to be stuck here. It’s going to be a long road. Something tells me we’ll be here a while. He’s in pretty rough shape.”

“Must have been one heck of a workplace accident.”

“Someone tried to kill him,” she admits, and then quickly adds “He’s in private security. A job got out of hand. There was nothing he could have done about it. There was no way he could have expected things to turn out THIS bad.”

“I’m sorry. That he has to be here. That YOU have to be here.”

“So am I,” she gives a small, sad smile. “But thank you. Why are you here?”

“My wife. She’s been here for almost two weeks. She had a stroke. While giving birth. Our first child.”

Esme’s eyes widen, and one of her hands slides inside of the open hoodie and instinctively rests on her baby bump.

“The doctors say there is no brain activity, but I’m not giving up hope. Sometimes, miracles happen. I can’t just give up on her. She wouldn’t give up on me.”

“I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you. And the baby? Did the baby make it or…?”

“Baby is fine. Very healthy. Very beautiful.” He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, then turns on the screen and holds it out towards her, showing off the display. A beautiful infant with gorgeous dark eyes and little pink bows in her coal black hair.

“She’s beautiful. Congratulations. It must be so bittersweet; having a new baby while your wife…” her voice trails off, unsure of what to say next.

“You have children?”

“I do. I have five of them.”

“Five? Forgive me; you don’t look like a woman with five children.”

“Thank you, but believe me, I feel like a mother of fifty right about now. It’s hard; being so far away from them. They have no idea what’s happened. I feel terrible for lying to them, I do. But I really don’t know what to say. They’re so little; the oldest is only six. How do I NOT traumatize them? How do I tell them? I’m just so lost when it comes to this. To a lot of things, actually This is...hard Very hard. Having to trust complete strangers with the life of the person you love. To just put his life in these peoples’ hands. I’m not having a good time with it. At all. I’m sad. I’m angry. Mostly sad, though.”

“Angry?”

“At the person who did this to him. They’re dead, and believe me, there’s a special place in hell for them. But I’m still angry about it. And I’m angry at myself too. Because I made a mistake. And I guess in a way I feel guilty; that my mistake led to this.”

Her companion gives a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think he’d want you to blame yourself.”

“He definitely wouldn’t. Tyler would be pretty mad about it, actually. He already thinks I’m too hard on myself in a lot of ways. That’s his name, by the way. Tyler. My husband.”

“My wife is Priya. I’m Sanjib.”

“I’m Esme,” she shakes the hand offered. “I should get back. I know he’s not conscious and probably won’t be for a while, but I still don’t like leaving him alone. I like to think he knows I’m there. He has PTSD; hospitals trigger it. He will not be happy when he comes out of sedation, that’s for sure. This is the last place he’ll want to be. It was nice to talk to you, though Thanks for tolerating me.”

“We should meet. Every day. At a certain time. For tea. I would be nice to have someone to talk to. Other than doctors and nurses”

“It would be,” she agrees. “And someone other than my six year old who called me from Australia and should be sleeping. She had a bad dream and daddy always takes care of her after a bad dream. She’s missing him. A lot. But whenever you feel up to it, just come and find me. It’s hard to miss our room; it’s the only one with the armed guard sitting outside of it.”

Sanjib arches a quizzical brow.

“It’s a long story that needs a bit of time to tell. One that definitely calls for more than one tea. But it was nice talking to you. And I hope your wife heals. I hope a miracle DOES happen.”

“I hope for the same for your husband. That he’s awake sooner, rather than later.”

“Yeah,” she says, and opens the kitchen door. “So do I.”

****

When she returns to the room, Julie is stepping out; slipping the patient chart back into the holder on the door and then turning to greet her

“Is everything alright?” Esme asks, unable to stop herself from fearing the worst. Even the warm smile on the other woman’s face and the gentle hand that first touches her cheek and then lays on her shoulder. “Is he okay? Nothing’s happened, has it?”

“Everything is fine. I was just checking his vitals.”

“And they’re good? He doesn’t need to be intubated or…?”

“He’s doing all the breathing on his own. Doesn’t even need the nasal cannula anymore. And his oxygen level is still staying over ninety four.”

“And that’s good? That’s what we want it to be? Or better? It’s a good sign that he doesn’t need any help?”

“A very good sign. He’s a lot further along than anyone thought he would be, that’s for sure. Usually in cases like this, when someone has experienced that level of trauma AND so much of it, it takes weeks, sometimes even months, to see even a glimmer of progress. There are people who have been on this ward for a long time, with less done to them, that aren’t where he is. He’s got a strong will to live, that’s for sure.”

“He has five reasons to stay alive back home. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them. No fight he wouldn't fight. If it was seven years ago, you wouldn’t be seeing what you’re seeing right now. Before the kids? He wasn’t the person he is now. Once our daughter came along, everything changed. HE changed.”

“I think you’re underestimating the role YOU played. That you DO play.”

“He is so strong. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And if anyone can defy the odds and prove people, it’s Tyler. So I hope you go and tell that one doctor...the neurologist...exactly what you’re telling me. Because he has been nothing but doom and gloom. He even told me not to expect much. Not even long term. I basically told him to go screw himself. No one is going to talk about my husband like that. No one is going to count him out. I don’t care how many degrees they have before or after their name. I know Tyler. And he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t know the meaning of it. And he is stubborn as hell! You’ll get to see that soon enough, I’m sure.”

“He’s already showing it. And so you know, he did wake. Very briefly, but…”

“Wait? What? What do you mean he woke up? How? Is that even possible? How can he? The surgeon said it would be a few days before they’d start bringing out of it. How…?”

“While it’s heavy sedation, it is still only sedation,” Julie explains. “It isn’t a medically induced coma. So brief periods of wakefulness and some level of lucidity are common. He likely won’t remember experiencing it, but it will happen.”

“And he was fully awake?”

“Fully awake in terms of all the drugs continuously being pumped into him. But he did open his eyes and ask ‘who the hell are you?’”

Esme gives a small laugh. “That sounds like Tyler. He hates hospitals. They trigger a lot of bad things. It’s good he’s doped up. If he knew where he was and he had the energy, he probably would have lost it. He has pulled out many an IV. He won’t think anything of pulling out a central line. Did he say anything? Did he ask about his kids or…?”

“He asked for you. Seemed worried. I told him you were fine. That you just stepped out for a minute. I asked him how he was feeling and he said sick. So I gave him an anti nausea med through the line. The pain medication he’s on is notorious for making people sick, And he asked for water. So if he does wake up and wants something to drink, that’s what he can have.”

“I can’t believe this even happened. Especially so soon. I didn’t think there was a chance of something like this. The way everyone was talking, it sounded like even after he was brought out of sedation, he might not come to right away. That it could take weeks, even.”

“Well between you and me, hun, doctors aren’t always right. I’ve seen a lot of patients they’ve been plenty wrong about. Now don’t get your hopes up; it might not happen again right away. That might have been all the energy he had to spare for a while.”

“But it’s a good sign, right? That he DID wake up? I don’t care how long it takes for him to be okay. Just as long as long as he is in the end. And this has to be a good sign.”

“It’s a sign that his brain is working the way it should. And I’m going to make sure I tell that neurologist, too. There is nothing wrong with that man’s brain; not when he can call his wife by name and answer me when I ask him how he’s doing. Everything’s going right for him, I promise you. And he’s in good hands. Very good hands. I’ll see that he gets everything he needs And that that mean old brain doctor gets put in his place.”

“You have no idea how much I needed this; to hear this. It’s just been a nightmare; I’m still trying to wrap my head around what went wrong. How could it go so bad, so fast? And then our daughter called and she’s six and her daddy is her entire world and they have this amazing bond. I mean, he has a bond with all of them, obviously. But it’s different with her; he calls her his miracle baby. He lost a son. From his first marriage. And he never thought he’d be a dad again. And then we met in a crazy way and we made her and he then he survived what he did and…” Esme takes a deep, shaky breath. “....it’s just different. What they have. She thinks the sun shines out of his ass and they’re so close and she misses him so much. I don’t know how to tell her. It’ll break her heart regardless. All she wants is to talk to him and I don’t know how to tell her she can’t. I don’t know what to say to any of them.”

“What do they think they can handle hearing?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Millie is so smart and so intuitive for her age. TJ is tough on the outside but a total softie on the inside; he has a huge heart and feels and loves so deeply. And Tanner is crazy intelligent and an old soul. But they’re still babies, practically. She’s six. They’re five. What do I tell them other than daddy got hurt and can’t come home for a while? I don’t want them knowing details. You’ve seen him. Would you want your children knowing how bad he looks?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“And the one person I have to talk me through things like this, I can’t turn to because he’s the one that’s hurt. He’s the rock, not me. He’s the one that talks ME down. I have no clue what I’m doing right now. Other than lying to my children.”

“Just tell them the parts of the truth you know they can handle,” Julie suggests. “They don’t need details Especially ugly ones. Tell them that daddy is hurt and unfortunately can’t come home for a while. But as soon as the doctors say it’s okay, he can be sent to a hospital there and then they can see him as much as they want. It’s what I’d tell my kids And my grand kids.”

“It’s just so hard; being away this far from them. Especially the baby. She’ll be four months old next week and I’m thousands of miles away from her and I‘m afraid she’s going to forget me. The farthest away I’ve been from her is a few hours. And that was only for two days! I could be here for a few WEEKS. I can’t go home; I can’t leave Tyler alone here. I just can’t.”

“Is there anyone that could bring her to you? A friend that wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“Our oldest would do it In a heartbeat. He’s technically not ours, ours We’re his guardians. We’ve had him since he was fifteen. He’s twenty one now. I trust him with my kids’ lives. He’d do it. No hesitation. But then that leaves my brother alone with four kids and I don’t think he can handle that. And I’m not asking him to do it. He and Tyler do not get along; my brother thinks my marriage is an epic disaster and the worst mistake I ever made.” Esme sighs and pushes a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe I’m rambling to you like this. I’m sorry; I’m sure you have a lot to do. I shouldn’t keep you like this.” 

“Part of looking after patients is caring for their families too. And you’re a long way from home and you’re going through a hell of a horrible thing. You can lean on me. I’ve got broad shoulders. Why don’t you sleep on all of this? Or at least try and get some rest. This is only the end of day one; you don’t have to have everything figured out . Get some sleep and hopefully something will come to you in the morning.”

“I’ll try. It’s hard. Sleeping alone. You get used to someone being there. I tell you, I will NEVER complain about his cold feet and snoring every again. It’s so weird; the rest of him is a furnace, but those feet!”

“My husband is a snorer. You know how many times I’ve wanted to smother him with a pillow over the years?”

“Oh, I’ve had those moments, believe me. But apparently, I talk in my sleep. Tyler says he can carry on full conversations with me. Apparently my favourite thing to talk about is grocery lists. I always talk about peanut butter, ketchup, and kitty litter. And we don’t even have a cat.”

Julie laughs at that. “Try and get some rest, okay? You got a little one in there that’s depending on you. Come here…” she draws Esme into a tight embrace. “...you’re not alone. Remember that.”

“I’ll try,” she promises. And that pure, affectionate, and comforting moment once more brings tears to her eyes. And it’s sad. That harsh realization that this is the time in decades…maybe even ever…that she’s felt a hug like that Unconditional. Compassionate.

Motherly.

*****

“Your daughter called,” she says, as she parks the chair beside his bed. Gathering the hoodie around her as she sits, then putting down the safety railing 

He’s succumbed to the mixture of sedation and the heavy duty anti nausea meds, and with his head turned towards the door, the facial injuries are hidden. No stitches -sixty altogether, thirty holding together the damaged muscle and tissue, the others closing the skin- or swelling, or bruising visible. A slight smile curves his lips; no furrows present across his brow, features bathed in the soft glow from the bedside monitor. It’s the first time in years she’s seen him this peaceful. Where he isn’t hampered by the demons and the mistakes of the past; his brain unburdened and at rest. His body pain free. Breaths slow and even. Relaxed. Right arm resting across his stomach, left lying flat on the mattress. And that’s the hand she takes; holding tightly as the fingers of her other hand repeatedly drift along his forearm.

“She wanted me to tell you that she loves you. And she misses you. She left you a couple voicemails; I’ll play them for you when your phone charges. I don’t know what to tell her. To tell any of them. I’ve never had to give this kind of news. You’re so much better at this than I am. This whole parenting thing. You always have been. You’re a ten; I’m hovering somewhere around...I don’t know...a six. Although you’d probably tell me I’m full of shit and that I’m being too hard on myself. I just wish I could talk to you about all of this. You’re way better at figuring this kind of stuff out than I am.”

She laces their fingers together, thumb brushing against the side of his. “And just so you know, I’m kind of pissed you had the nerve to wake up while I wasn’t here. I’ll try not to be offended that you woke up for another woman and not me. Unless you’re just pretending to sleep; hoping that I’ll just shut and you leave you alone. Sorry buddy, you’re stuck with me. For about another fifty years.”

She lightly scrapes her fingernails along his forearm, watching his face for any sign of impending consciousness. “And speaking of being stuck with me, I went through your things and your wedding ring has mysteriously disappeared. No one has seen it. Not in the ER, not in the OR. So it looks like you’re finally going to have to upgrade. You’ve only been talking about that for HOW long? I know you hate change; I know you’ve got a connection to the first one. But it looks like you’re going to have to suck it up and get a new one. Or, I could just go ahead and pick one out for you and surprise you with it. Our anniversary in three months, you never know. Looks like you’re not going to be getting your normal gift, sorry. You’ll have to settle for something else.”

She had been surprised at how much it had hurt; realizing that the ring was in fact gone. She had searched the bag of blood soaked clothes; rummaging through every pocket in hopes that he’d either taken it off before going into the storage facility of someone else -maybe Koen or Rata on the way to the hospital- had removed it and tucked it away. She couldn’t imagine hospital staff NOT giving it to her. But just when she thought her heart possibly couldn’t break even more, it had. And instead of tears, she’d felt anger. An all consuming rage towards Nathan. It was his fault, after all. He was the only one to blame for all of this; her husband’s battered and bloodied body, the weeks and months and maybe even years of recovery that lay ahead of him, the thousands of miles separating her and her children. Now the missing ring. There was only one person to blame for all of it. And while he was dead and that should be enough to give her a sense of comfort, satisfaction, and finality, it only made her even angrier.

She’d called home about it. Preferring to speak to Ovi or Nik or even Anil. Someone with at least an ounce of compassion in their bodies. Instead she’d been relegated to talking to Kyle. And while he’d listened to her long winded, rambling rage towards Nathan and the world in general, and her whining and complaining about the ring being lost, he hadn’t been the most sympathetic when it came to advice giving.

“It’s just a cheap piece of jewellery. Put on your big girl pants and get him a new one. No big deal. It’s your own fault you’re in this mess anyway. If you had just listened to all of us and left him a long time ago, you…”

She’d hung up. Not even giving him the chance to finish.

“I miss you,” she says, and issues a long, shaky sigh. “I know that sounds weird because you’re literally right here. But I do. I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss how we sneak the good snacks after the kids go to bed; sit on the couch eating ice cream right out of the carton. I miss how you tease me about being so short but never complain when I ask you to reach something at the bottom of the washing machine or on the top shelves in the kitchen. And I miss those talks. You know the ones. In the middle of the night AFTER we’ve done other things. We’ve always had those talks; right from day one. I can’t remember who started it, but do remember you complaining about how cuddly I was. It was a half assed complaint, mind you. I saw the smile on your face; you didn't mind it one bit. And you were a pretty good cuddler for someone who said they hated it so much. Maybe you secretly liked it and you just had never found someone you WANTED to cuddle. I know, it’s not very bad ass mercenary; being a cuddler. I’ve always loved that about you. That you’re such a study in contradiction. Everyone else only gets the one side of you; the mercenary side. But you’ve always let me see all of you. Even seven years ago. After that first time, you never hid it from me. Who you really are. For some reason you never felt a reason to hide it from me. And I think that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you as fast as I did. That you were so honest and real and you didn’t pretend to be someone you weren’t. You didn’t hide the fact that you were a mess. And you didn’t care that I was either.”

Esme reaches out to move his hair off his forehead, then uses a fingertip to trace the scar that curves over the bridge of his nose. “I really do miss you, Tyler. And I know it probably sounds stupid to you because you ARE alive and you ARE going to be fine, but I can’t help it. I’ve spent seven years with you. Being able to hear your voice and your laugh whenever I want and seeing you smile and that cute little frown and pout you get when you’re really focused on something. Or when you’re trying so hard not to laugh when one of the kids drops the F bomb in the correct context. Remember that time in Telluride when we were in town and someone was texting and driving and turned into the crosswalk while you were walking with the twins? And TJ flipped him the bird and called him a stupid fucker? I wonder where he learned THAT from? You didn’t know whether to give him shit or be proud of him. I know you don’t think being adorable can go hand in hand with being a bad ass, but you manage somehow.”

She runs her knuckles along his jaw, then lowers her head to press a kiss to his forearm. “I just need you to be okay,” she says, and struggles to hold back the tears. “And I don’t want to hear any of your shit about how strong I am and I’m more than capable of doing this by myself; raising five kids. And maybe I am. Maybe I could handle it. Maybe I could handle them and another one. But I don’t want to do this by myself. That isn’t what I signed up for six and a half years ago. We’re supposed to do it together. And I’m not letting you back out on me. Ever. So I really need you to be okay. Because I need you. More than you realize. And probably more than I’ve ever let on. Why do it alone when you have someone so amazing to do it with? So you have to get better, okay? I need you to get better. Besides, you still owe me a trip. You have this really uncanny ability of getting out of taking me on trips, you know that?”

She releases her hold on his hand, then wraps both arms around his and lays her forehead in the crook of his elbow. Staying there for several minutes; eyes closed as she desperately holds back the flood of tears. And she almost doesn’t feel it; that light brush of fingers against one of her arms. Wondering if she actually just imagined it. Or perhaps his body had given an involuntary shiver or jerk; a known side effect from the meds.

“Don’t cry, baby.” His voice is barely above a whisper. Quiet and weak. But very much him.

She raises her head to look at him. And the tears that threaten now are ones of relief. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So you WERE pretending to be asleep.”

“I was listening.”

“Always the strong, silent type.”

“Please don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“It’s happy tears, I promise. Can you see me properly?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you’re pretty doped up. You could be seeing five of me for all I know.”

“Just one.”

“Out of both eyes or….?”

“Not so good out of the right. But yeah. Out of both.”

“I don’t think you’re really supposed to be awake right now. The doctors sort of said you wouldn’t be for a while.”

“Fuck ‘em. I do what I want.”

Esme grins, then pushes the chair away from the side of the bed and stands. “Yeah, you always do.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No. Just tired”

“Well you’ve had a hell of a day,” she reasons, combing her fingers through his hair and resting her hand on the top of his head. “As happy as I am that you’re awake, you really need to go back to sleep. That’s what you need right now. Sleep.”

Tyler nods. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“The baby?”

“The baby’s fine. You don’t need to worry about us. There’s a lot of people that are stepping up to take care of us. Time to worry about yourself for a bit. Just close your eyes, okay?”

“Cold.”

“You’re cold?”

He nods once more.

“I can go and find you another blanket. I can…”

“No,” he quickly objects. “Stay. Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she promises. “I won’t go anywhere. I’m right here.” She places a hand on the side of his face and presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“You’re warm.”

“It’s your sweater. I always steal them. They seem to keep me warmer than mine do. Here…” she shrugs out of the hoodie and gently lays it over him. “...that’ll help. You really need to sleep, Tyler. That’s the only way you’re going to get better and get out of here. You need to close your eyes and get some rest, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up. However long that is.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.” She presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose, then rests her forehead against his. Eyes closed as her fingers continue to run through his hair. It is soft and comforting. Soothing. Quickly helping him drift off once more.


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks and love to @melmac for all the brain storming sessions for simply putting up with me. And for keeping me going when I just want to stop! <3 <3 <3

The final attempt at sleep had been successful. Although the road ahead of him is destined to be long and extremely difficult -and no doubt agonizing- his brief moment of wakefulness had done wonders to life Esme’s spirits. That chance to speak to him; to see him open his eyes and know -with one hundred percent certainty- that he was able to acknowledge her. It wasn’t a drug induced incoherent rambling or hallucination. He actually saw her and was able to engage; giving appropriate responses and showing concern for her and the baby. Able to express how he was feeling and that telling her he loved her. No one could ever possibly understand how just incredible that small moment was, or what an enormous impact it had on her state of mind. She knows it won’t be easy. There will be weeks, even months, of healing; tremendous pain and more hard times than easy ones. A full recovery could take as long as a couple of years; countless rounds of physical rehab will be needed and most likely therapy for mental health and addiction issues. But he’s already shown just how tenacious and strong he actually is; his will to live a lot more powerful than the agony he’s experiencing. With so much to live for, his desire to be with his family again is his main driving force, and she knows he’ll be willing to do whatever it takes to get back on his feet again.

Nathan may have been able to break his body, but he hadn’t made a dent in his spirit.

The burden she’s been carrying -the fear, worry, and uncertainty- had been lessened, and she’d been able to drift off; both body and mind allowing her to rest. So soundly in fact, that she’d only briefly stirred in the wee hours of the morning when Julie had come in while on her rounds. Merely lifting her head from the pillow; quietly observing as the nurse switched empty IV and medicine bags with full ones. Then she’d simply rolled over, pulled the blankets over her head, and easily drifted off. 

Her sleep once again had been filled with dreams of the past. Millie’s first steps and how ecstatic and proud Tyler had been; never getting to experience many of Austin’s milestones because of deployments. How tearful he’d been the morning he’d walked into her room and Millie -who’d been standing up in her crib, excitedly bouncing up and down at the mere sight of him- had called him ‘daddy’ for the very first time. And the way he’d broken down in the delivery room when the twins had been born -even harder than he had when his daughter came into the world- and the nurse had given him TJ and said “Here’s your son”. He’d lost his first, and getting that moment again -a baby boy presented to him- had profoundly affected him A man that rightfully shouldn’t even have been alive. Who’d been given a second chance and at times didn’t feel as if he deserved it. There are still times he thinks that way. When the demons of the past resurface and play havoc on his brain; convincing him that the mistakes of a younger man and the amount of blood on his hands has turned him into a monster. It’s the nightmare of living with mental health issues and PTSD; those dark moments where he questions his mere existence and openly states that he doesn’t deserve the life he has now; a wife and children that love and accept him unconditionally. 

It’s hard for people to understand. How a man that is so big and so strong -and often intimidating- can have those kinds of thoughts and vulnerable moments. But they don’t know everything that he’s battled. His childhood is one of his best kept secrets; only her and Koen know the full extent of his father’s behaviour, the abuse inflicted, and the long term damage it has caused. It’s not something he readily talks about; even with her. That toxic masculinity still gets the better of him at times. His father’s attempts at beating into him that a man -a REAL MAN- doesn’t show emotion; it means that he’s weak and there’s nothing more pathetic than being weak. And she’s tried to break him of it; years spent assuring him that he isn’t a weak man. A weak man would have given up in that storage facility. In the same way he would have given up on the Sultana Kamal Bridge seven years ago. And he certainly never would have survived the nightmare of his upbringing. Nor would he be so determined to be a better man; the kind of husband and father that a wife and kids can brag about and proud of. Who never have to live in fear of him ; cowering every time he raises his voice or even comes too close to them. Who know -beyond the shadow of a doubt- how much he loves him.

Tyler Rake is anything BUT weak. And he’d shown that the night before. Somehow finding a way to battle his way through this thick haze of multiple medications; gathering the strength to not only open his eyes, but actually think coherently and communicate. He was right. He DOES do whatever he wants.

When she finally wakes, it’s to the patter of rain against the window and the sounds of hospital life trickling through the half open door. Doctors being paged, the shrill ring of patients’ using their call buttons to summon for help, the loud rattle of gurneys being pushed through the halls. It’s a harsh reminder of her current situation; stuck in the ICU of a private hospital in Dhaka, thousands of miles away from her children and the comforts and security of her own home. She misses it. The sound and the smell of the ocean. The morning breeze and sunshine as she stands out on the back deck enjoying that first cup of tea, watching her husband as he helps Millie and the twins search -and dig, at times- for shells, rocks, and beach glass. Often wondering who is enjoying the quality time more; father or children. The dinners cooked on an open fire down by the water; the smiles brought to their faces -and that unconditional love and immense pride in his eyes- as they watch their children play and listen to those little voices and musical giggles floating on the air. And those strong, protective arms wrapped around her from behind as she sits between his legs. Her head resting against his chest as they quietly marvel at the sky; painted vivid shades of orange and pink as the sun sets. 

It’s a life she had never even dared to dream about; a beautiful home in an even more even more beautiful place, amazing children and a husband that is faithful and loyal and only has eyes for her. All those things that she’d come to believe SHE didn’t deserve and had long ago given up on finding. How poetic in a way; two broken people coming together to make a slightly dented whole.

Sighing heavily, she rolls from side to back; eyes closed as she stretches and yawns The morning sickness has returned. With a vengeance. More than likely made worse by lack of food and the stress and worry that have accompanied the last twenty four hours. When she manages to quell the threatening nausea and brief spell of dizziness, she opens her eyes and sits up, finding a small paper bag sitting on the extra pillow beside her; name written on the front of it in black marker. And the contents bring the first genuine smile since yesterday morning; aside from Tyler’s brief period of consciousness. A bottle of prenatal vitamins, a small carton of chocolate milk, and an enormous blueberry muffin. Accompanied by a handwritten note from Julie; asking Esme to promise she’ll look after herself AND the baby, assurance that she’ll be back on in the evening, and her home phone number. The latter being offered as not only a ‘helpline’ if she feels overwhelmed and scared and needs someone to vent and cry to, but so she can give the nurse a list of some of her favorite foods. Julie vowing to bring a selection when she clocks in for her shift. It’s refreshing; having someone WANT to take care of her in that motherly fashion. Especially when her own has been anything but.

She shoves her feet into her sandals and climbs off the bed; returning it to its couch form. “Hey baby,” she greets as she stands at the side of Tyler’s bed; combing her fingers through his hair and pressing her lips to his temple. “Good morning. I hope you slept god. You didn’t snore, I know that much. That’s a first, huh? Me not complaining about your snoring? Must have been a really good sleep for you to be THAT quiet. You deserve it; that kind of sleep. Your face looks a little better, I think. Not as swollen. Pretty bruised though. And you’re going to have a couple wicked scars at the end of this.” 

Her fingers gently touch the stitches below and above his eye.

“You’d probably joke about how it balances your face out; the right catching up with the left in the scar department. I think they’re going to make you even sexier. Which should be illegal, if you ask me. One man being that sexy? No wonder you’re a DILF. The thirsty ladies may drive me crazy, but I can’t really blame them. Right now I’m kind of mad at you though. I am so nauseous. And I swear, the bump is even bigger this morning...look…” she pushes her fingers through his, then draws their joined hands through the safety railing and places them on her stomach. “...bigger, right? You can’t tell me this is normal. None of the other ones were this size so soon. Not even Declan, and he was over ten pounds when he was born. And you better not be thinking multiples; one is all we can handle right about now. Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, alright? Six is more than enough. And speaking of babies, I’m going to ask Ovi to bring Addie here. She’s tiny still, Tyler. She shouldn’t be away from us this long. Especially me. She needs to be with her momma. And I think it would do you some good, too; having at least one of them here. So that’s my decision and you’re just going to have to live with it.”

She moves his hand back inside the confines of the bed, gently setting it on the mattress

“I love you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You keep sleeping, okay? And I hope if you’re dreaming, it’s good things for a change.”

****

She gives a small start when she exits the bathroom and finds Koen sitting in the bedside chair. Sipping from a take out cup of coffee and freshly shaven; his face bearing its own fair share of bruises and a handful of butterfly bandages keeping small, superficial wounds closed.

“Morning, sunshine!” He cheerfully greets, and nods to the cup of tea and a bag of fast food breakfast sitting on the window ledge. “I finally get to see you in your sexy jammies.”

Esme gives a derisive snort. “You DO have issues if you find sweatpants and an oversized shirt sexy,” she says as she journeys over to the window “I was going to give you shit for scaring the crap out of me, but seeing as you come bearing gifts, I’ll let it slide.” She peers into the bag, a grin tugging at her lips. “Either it was just a lucky guess, or you somehow know that when I’m pregnant, I always crave breakfast burritos.”

“There’s a lot I know about you. Someone talks about you. All the time. Mostly about shit I don’t need to know.”

“Well I’m glad you listened. Because this is a very nice surprise. Thank you,” she lays a hand on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “And what’s up with this?” She lightly taps a hand against the side of his face. “All cleaned up. Smooth like a baby’s bum.”

“I thought there might be some hot nurses walking around. Want to put my best foot forward. Maybe you can hook me up; put in a good word for me.”

“Why would you want to hook with someone here? You’ll be going home soon.”

“Exactly.”

“Ewww…” she grimaces. “...I don’t need to know that you’re a ‘pump and dump’.”

“Considering the things I’ve had to hear from you and him?” Koen nods in Tyler’s direction. “What I said is tame. I’ve actually had to listen to you two….”

“I thought you were moving on from random hookups?” Esme remarks, and she perches on the arm of his chair and delves into one of the burritos. “I thought you were getting too old for that shit?”

“Excuse me, who are you calling old?”

“I thought Tyler was rubbing off on you. That he was some sort of inspiration to you and Rata; convincing you two it was time to stop sowing your wild oats and settle down once and for all. Didn’t you say it gave you hope? That if...and I quote…’someone can put up with the likes of him, that’s proof there IS someone out there for everyone’.”

“I did say that.”

“So what gives? Why are you looking for a random? You deserve more than that”

“Well if he was awake and could tell me where to find another one of you, I’d be all set.”

“Sorry. I’m limited edition. And I’ve already been claimed. A couple breakfast burritos just aren’t enough to make me divorce my husband and run away with you. It definitely takes more than that.”

“I knew I should have gotten you hash browns too.”

“That would have done it! Boy, did you ever blow that. I would have for sure ran away with you. Right this very second.”

“You know, as much as I enjoy our little banter, I don’t think I could handle you.”

“Oh, you definitely couldn’t. It takes a special breed of man, believe me. And I’m serious; aren’t you tired of NOT having someone to call your own? Someone to go home to at the end of the day? Someone that is your ‘be and end all’? Your ‘ride or die’?. You deserve to be happy. I WANT you to be happy.”

“I think Tyler took all the happy and didn’t leave any for anyone else.”

“When we get home, I am finding someone for you. I don’t care what it takes; I will put you on every dating site out there.”

“What about your sister? Or step sister. Whatever she is.”

“Riley? Are you serious? She’s twenty three!”

“And?”

“And you’re thirty years older than she is!”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I know you’re eight years older than Tyler. He’s almost forty two. So I lied; you’re only twenty seven years old than she is.”

“And?”

“And that’s fucking disturbing!”

Koen shrugs. “She’s cute”

“She is. You know who else finds her cute? Women. Who she is into. And she’s not a switch hitter.”

“Doesn’t take after her older sister, huh?”

Esme frowns. “He told you THAT, too?”

“He’s told me a lot of things, sunshine. You forget; he’s a chatty drunk. Until he’s a depressed and weepy drunk, that is.”

“There are many sides to him you don’t get to see. Sober sides. And don’t worry; my sister isn’t in contention, but I WILL find someone for you. And speaking of someone, where’s your sidekick?”

“He saw something downstairs he liked.”

“Really…” she playfully wriggles her eyebrows. “...blond or brunette?”

“Something in the gift shop. For the baby.”

“He knows?”

“EVERYONE knows.”

“Yaz has a big mouth,” Esme grumbles. “We weren’t going to tell anyone until we got home and found how far along I am. It’s what Tyler and I wanted.”

“I could gather a guess. About how far.”

“Sure you could,” she mutters. “And why do you keep looking at me like that? Why do you keep staring at my crotch?”

“I’m looking at your stomach. Where’d that come from?”

“It’s been there. I’ve just been hiding it because no one was supposed to know! Now that everyone does, I guess I don’t have to wear baggy clothes anymore. And it’s big, right? The bump? Bigger than any of the others?”

“How should I know? I only saw you pregnant with Millie and Addie. Never saw you with any of the boys.”

“It’s never been like this so soon! How big IS this baby?”

“Look at the size of the kid’s father. Maybe it’s taking after him. Or maybe there’s more than one.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you think it? Don’t put that out into the universe. There’s just one. That’s it. That will make it six. A nice even number.”

“Number six must be pretty damn big then.”

“You know what? You’re off my Christmas card list. There’s no way we’re running away together. You totally shit the bed. No second chances for you.

“What if I bring you chocolate?”

“Not even then. You just had to jinx the entire thing.”

Koen gives an over dramatic pout. 

“Buddy, I have seen better pouts on a much bigger man. That won’t work on me. You have nothing on Tyler’s pout.”

“He doesn’t pout.”

“He sure as shit does. I’m going to prove it one day. I’m going to catch him doing it and take a picture. Then I’ll have the evidence. Tanner has the EXACT same pout; he mostly does it when he’s sleeping.”

“Speaking of pictures, I’ve got a little something for ya.” Koen reaches into the side pocket of his cargo pants, pulling out his cell and then thumbing through the gallery; choosing the image he wants and offering the phone to her. “Thought it would make you smile. The world’s a shitty place when you don’t. You got yourself a pretty nice smile.”

“You’ve been taking ass kissing lessons from the best, haven’t you,” she chides, then pops the last of her breakfast into her mouth and wipes her hands on her thighs. “Oh...my...god…” she breathes, and almost squeals in delight at the sight before her. Her husband long before the hardness and weariness brought on by his time in the military, substance abuse issues, and the dangers of the job. Before all of those demons took hold of him and he’d yet to go under a tattoo artist’s needle and no scars marred his body. Tall and lean; broad shouldered and bearing the start of the strong and solid physique of a soldier. A brush cut and a smooth, clean face; the smile -genuine and pure- making his eyes crinkle and sparkle. 

“Back when he couldn’t even grow a proper beard yet,” Koen muses. “When he was still wet behind the ears. Nothing hard ass about that bloke in the picture, is there.”

“Where did you get this?” Esme can’t explain it; the tug at her heart and the emotion choking at her and the tears that well in her eyes. There’s something so surreal about it; seeing the person you love long before a hard and unpredictable life got a hold of them.

“Found a box of old pictures when I was going through some stuff back home. Meant to show it to him, but never got around to it. You mentioned before that you’ve never seen what he looked like before...well...before all of this.”

“I’ve only ever ever seen one picture of him. When he was five; with his mom on his first day of kindergarten. He doesn’t have any other ones; he says it’s not worth the grief he’ll get if he asks his dad if he has any. This is…I don’t know...it’s amazing. You have no idea what this means to me; seeing this. ESPECIALLY right now. This is everything. You can’t possibly understand what this does for me.”

“I think I do. I know how you feel about him. That you’re just as much a fool in love as he is.”

“I certainly am,” she smiles. “How old is he here?”

“Nineteen. Hadn’t been out of basic long; a couple weeks maybe. When he was a cocky little shit and as green as fresh baby shit. Cute, ain’t he?”

“Very cute. It’s weird seeing him like this. I’ve only seen MY Tyler. The one I’ve spent seven years with. I’ve never seen THIS Tyler. I know that sounds strange.”

“I’ve heard stranger.”

“Fourteen year old me would have had a huge crush on him.”

“What was fourteen year old Esme like?”

“Awkward. Geeky. Short as fuck and chubby. I had braces and jet black hair and I dressed like a goth. Big old Doc Marten boots that went up to my knees and everything.”

“Now THAT I’d like to see.”

“I don’t even have pictures of ME when I was that young. Tyler’s never seen old photos of me, either. I think the youngest he’s ever seen me was when I was twenty-three and just got into the Corps. It’s what happens; when your family is toxic and you’d rather not deal with them. Can you send this to me? I’d love to have this. And I’d love to show the kids. Especially Millie. She’d like to see her daddy when he was young and cute.”

“I’ll send it to ya. And when we get home, I’ll bring that box down and we can go through it. I’m sure there’s more you’d love to have. “

“Thank you.” She can’t hold back the tears. “You have no idea what it means to me. Even just having one picture. And I’m sorry; that I’m a whiny bitch baby. I would like to be able to blame it on the baby and my hormones, but it’s not those things. It’s just me. I’m not exactly having the best twenty four hours. I miss my kids. I hate being so far away from them. Especially Addie. But I can’t leave Tyler here. I just can’t.”

“I could stay,” Koen offers. “He wouldn’t be alone, you know that.”

“And I appreciate it, I do. But I need to be here with him. I didn’t leave him seven years ago, and I’m sure as hell not leaving him now. It’ll be better; when he gets sent to a hospital back home. Closest one is an hour from the house. It’ll be better than.”

“Well I’ll stick around as long as you need me to. Sort of made a promise that I’d take care of ya. I ain’t breaking it.”

“You’re all heart, Koen. You can pretend to be surly and hard ass all you want. I’m onto you.”

“Yeah, well I kind of like that giant, dumb ass bloke you’re married to. And you’re growing on me. So I figure I might as well step up and take his spot and treat like you like the queen you are.”

“You smooth talker,” she teases, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. For the picture. You really don’t know how grateful I am for it. And thanks for being here; for both of us.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

“And thank you for being with him yesterday. I could tell he was scared and in pain, and when I think what would have happened if he’d been alone…”

“Well he wasn’t. Alone. So don’t even think about that.”

“Thank you for getting him out of there. At least if he DID die, he wouldn’t have been left there. I don’t think I’d ever get over that; if I had to leave him here. I couldn’t cope with that.”

“Let’s not think about that, yeah? He got through it. He got out of there and it’s only uphill from here.”

“He really thought he was going to die, didn’t he.”

“Honestly? We all thought he was going to die.”

She releases a long, shaky sigh and blinks back tears. “I’m glad you were there with him. At least if the worst happened, he wouldn’t have been by himself. That is my biggest fear when it comes to the job; that if it DOES happen, he’ll be alone. I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does. I just don’t want him to be alone...you know...IF…”

“Can’t dwell on stuff like that. You’ll drive yourself insane. Or give yourself gray hair.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already HAVE gray hair.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“I appreciate you feeding my ego, but I know you can see it. And believe, every one of my gray hairs has Tyler’s name on them. Maybe TJ too. Go figure; the junior being a TRUE junior.”

“That kid is his dad through and through. Tough on the outside, all heart on the inside. And that Millie…”

“Female version of him.”

“Exactly. It’s fitting if you ask me; him having a girl first and her being just like him. Gonna have his hands full with her.”

“She called last night. Wanting to talk to him. She had a bad dream and he always makes her feel better after a bad dream. Daddy’s the one that chases all the monsters away. She has so much faith in him; she knows he’d never ignore her. She’s already questioning why she can’t get a hold of him. I have to tell them; I can’t keep lying to them. And I’d rather they hear it from me than someone else. They’ll take it better if it comes from me, I think.”

Koen nods in agreement.

“But on the bright side, he had a really good night. An amazing night, actually. He woke up. Twice. Once for the nurse, once for me.”

Koen frowns.

“What?”

“He woke up?”

Esme nods. “The first time, Julie...his night nurse…said he woke up and wanted to know who the hell she was and that he asked for me. And he even told her he was feeling sick and she gave him some meds for it.”

“Hmm…”

“Second time, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Told me to not cry. He said he wasn’t in any pain and that he was just tired. And he asked if the baby was okay and he said he loved me. It was amazing; to see him open his eyes and hear his voice.”

“Are you sure? That this happened?”

“What do you mean am I sure? Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Thought the doctor said they weren’t going to bring him out sedation for a few days? At least.”

“Julie said it isn’t uncommon; moments of wakefulness and some lucidity. It’s just sedation, it’s not a medically induced coma like last time.”

“He actually woke up? After everything he went through during the day? All the surgeries, the amount of meds they’re pushing into him? He opened his eyes and talked to you?”

“That’s exactly what happened. Why are you questioning it? I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were hallucinating from lack of sleep.”

“I wasn’t dreaming and I wasn’t seeing things. He woke up, looked at me, and talked to me. It happened. It was real.”

“Esme, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe it was wishful thinking on your part and…”

“It happened,” she insists. “I was there. I witnessed it.”

“And I was there in that storage and in that van. I know what kind of shape he was in; I know how close he was to lights out. Permanently. And you’re telling me, after all the injuries, all the surgeries, all the meds, he just woke up? The same day?”

“I know it sounds crazy. And I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me either. But I SAW it. With my own two eyes. And you know how tough he is; how damn stubborn he is. Does it really surprise you that of all the people who would fight THIS hard, it’s Tyler? You know him; you know how strong he is. You know he’d do anything for me and the kids. So is that big of a stretch that he’d wake up like that? Even if it was just to give me some hope?”

Koen sighs.

“He woke up AND he talked to me. And you know what? It was incredible and made me feel better; to know his brain is working and that he’s not giving up. I needed that; some kind of sign that he’s going to be okay And he gave it to me.”

“So why isn’t he awake now?” Koen challenges.

“Maybe he used up all his energy last night and he needs to build it back up again.”

“If he’s got it in him to wake up last night, he should be awake right now. I’ve got some shit to say to him for scaring me as bad as he did. How come he’s not up now and talking to me?”

“I don’t know. I only know what happened last night. I only know…”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Tyler’s voice -weak, groggy, and slightly slurred by the effects of medication- pipes up. “Now shut the fuck up. You’re given me a headache.”

“See!” Esme smiles triumphantly. “I told you.”

****

When she returns from taking a much needed shower, she finds Rata outside Tyler’s room tightly clutching a gift bag from the shop in the front lobby and pacing at a near frantic rate. It’s odd to see him this way, clearly frazzled and nervous shoulders tense; chewing on his bottom lip and occasionally stopping and peering into the room. Normally he’s the ‘life of the party’; clueless in an adorable way, always acting far less intelligent than he actually is just to get a laugh. Possessing an air of confidence without an ounce of cockiness; quick with sarcastic comments and witty comebacks. The ‘uncle’ that always sits at the kids’ tables during Christmas dinner and then helps build lego sets and put together toy car race tracks instead of socializing with the adults.

“Hey you,” she warmly greets, and lays a comforting hand on his back. “You okay?”

He responds by wrapping her in a huge; strong, muscular arms noticeably trembling.

“You alright?” Esme asks, as she runs her hands up and down his biceps. “You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

“I don’t like hospitals much. Especially a place like THIS in a hospital. Where people are really bad. EXTRA bad.”

“He’s a lot better than anyone thought he would be. Especially so soon And he doesn’t look THAT awful, I swear. He’s even waking up for a little bits at a time. A person who is ‘extra bad’, wouldn't be doing that, would they?”

“I just don’t know if I can go in there just yet. I mean, I was there. Yesterday. In the van. I saw what he was like; how bad he was. And I’ve never seen Tyler like that. I’ve seen him shot a couple times during our tours in the Middle East, but those were nothing. Just flesh wounds, you know? But that? Yesterday? Those weren’t just flesh wounds. And by the time he got back home seven years ago…”

“He was already somewhat on his feet and in rehab.”

Rata nods. “He was almost back to himself. It’s going to be a long while before he gets back to himself this time.”

“Yesterday was pretty awful, huh?

He releases a small, shaky sigh. “Wasn’t so much how he looked. All the blood and what not. I mean, that was bad, don’t get me wrong. It was fucking awful. Pardon my language.”

“I hear and say worse all the time. You don’t have to filter yourself around me. You’ve met my husband, right? You can’t be easily offended AND stay married to him. It just won’t work.”

“It was terrible. A fucking nightmare. To see a friend of yours THAT messed up. But the worst part? It was what he SOUNDED like. When he was talking to you. I’ve never heard him sound like that. Ever.”

“Neither have I,” she admits. “Not seven years ago, not even the two times he tried to...well, you know. He never sounded like THAT.”

“Like he was going to die.”

“Yesterday I tried telling myself he didn’t sound that way. That he was just tired and scared and in pain and he just needed it to end. I convinced myself that he didn’t sound THAT bad. Near death. Now I realize I was just trying to make myself feel better, know what I mean?”

Rata nods.

“He was a lot closer to it than I want to admit. I thought nothing could be worse than seven years ago. I was so wrong.”

“It was what he said to you. How he said it. He was pretty sure he was never going to see you again. That’s the only thing he was really scared of; the thought of not getting to be with you anymore. You and the kids. You’re his entire world. I didn’t think I realized how much he loves you all until I heard the things that came out of his mouth. Opened my eyes; made me see him a different way. A good way, just different. He’s lucky. He’s got someone that loves him as much as he loves them. That’s something I think we all want but never seem to find.”

“Sometimes I wonder what I ever did right to deserve him,” she confesses. “And he’s here because of you guys. You and Koen. You did whatever you had to go get him here alive. So thank you. I know it wasn’t easy; what you had to see and do. I was there myself. Seven years ago. I know how hard it is.”

“I feel like such a dick. For not being able to go in there. Like a total pussy.”

“You’re not any of those things. People handle stuff like this in different ways. But you should go in there. He’s really not that bad. And he was awake and talking a bit to Koen. I don’t know if he still is, but I do know he’d like to see you. I know how much he appreciates what you did to help him. I’ll go in with you if that would help.”

“It would. A bit. But first,” he offers the gift bag. “ I have something for you. And the baby.”

“The baby won’t be here for months. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Just a little something.”

She reaches into the bag, smiling at the stuffed tiger that she pulls out of its confines. “How did you remember the tradition? Every Rake baby gets a stuffed animal?”

“Just something that stuck with me, I guess.”

“It’s adorable. Thank you. Better not let Millie get a hold of it. That girl and her stuffed animals, I swear. You didn't have to do this. You didn’t…” her voice trails off, fingers reaching for the familiar object tied to the ribbon around the tiger’s neck. Eyes narrowed at first, then slowly widening when the realization sets in it. “Where did you find this? Where…?”

“I didn’t find it. Tyler gave it to me. Before we got to the storage place. He asked me to give it to you if something went wrong.”

“He did?” Esme unties the thin piece of fabric, sliding the ring off of it and then cradling it in her palm.

“He wanted me to make sure you got it. If he didn’t make it. Said it was important that you got it.”

“I thought it was lost,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I thought maybe he took it off beforehand and put it in his pocket and it fell out. Or that the ER staff misplaced it. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

“I should have given it to you right away. Yesterday. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying because of what you did or didn’t do. I thought it was gone. Forever. And I know it’s not much; it’s not expensive or fancy or anything like that. But it’s his. All the dents and scratches that he’s on it over the years. Sounds weird, but they all mean something. I really thought I’d never see it again. And I didn’t think I’d be as torn about it as I was. But it killed me inside; when I couldn’t find it. It felt like a piece of him was gone and I was just waiting for all the other pieces to disappear too. Thank you; you have no idea how much this means to me. To have this back.”

She hooks the handle of the bag around her wrist, then reaches around to the nape of her neck and removes the necklace -the custom made piece with the beach glass Millie had found- and slips the ring onto the chain. 

“I’ll do it,” Rata offers, and steps behind her. Large fingers clumsy and struggling at first, but then manage to secure the clasp.

Esme lays a palm over the ring, firmly pressing it into her chest. Feeling the smooth, cool metal with its many imperfections, the familiar weight of it against her. And the relief that simple piece of jewellery brings is profound, stifling sobs with both of her hands as she turns and tightly embraces her friend.


	89. Chapter 89

“Can you feel this?” Esme asks, as she lightly drags her fingernails down Tyler’s face. Starting just below the stitches under his eye and then stopping at the corner of his mouth

In the past forty eight hours -and following a lengthy and heated debate pitting her and Julie against the head of anesthesiology-, they’ve significantly lowered the amount of sedation being pushed through the central line. Upping the pain meds, but slowly easing the heavier drug out of his system. In twenty four they’ll cut the sedation all together; stopping it in the middle of the night while he’s asleep and then allowing both his body and brain to walk naturally. It will be hit or miss; he’ll either react calmly to full consciousness or wake to overwhelming panic and fear over his surroundings and the state of his body. And while he’s nowhere in the clear when it comes to even a partial recovery, it’s a remarkable beginning; his strength and overall health and physical condition allowing an earlier than expected start to the long and arduous healing process.

“I can feel it.”

His wakeful moments are coming more often now, yet still relatively short in duration. The pain medication and those to keep nausea at bay make him groggy and often disoriented; the quick return to exhaustion his weakened body’s response to fighting the injuries and the pain caused by them.

“A hundred percent or…?”

“A hundred percent.”

She gives a pleased smile then presses a kiss to his temple. “Good! The plastic surgeon was a bit worried; it’s deep enough that it could have messed up some of the nerves. But if you can feel it…”

“I can feel it,” he assures her. “I wouldn't lie.”

“What about this?” She scrapes her nails across the top of his eyebrow, followed by higher up onto his forehead. “And this?”

“The first one, not so good. Second one is okay.”

“Not so good as in you can’t feel it all or…?”

“It feels weird. I don’t know; kinda fuzzy. It didn’t scratch but it didn’t tickle either. Just feels...fuzzy.”

“Might take a little longer than the other spots. I’m sure it’s nothing. You want something to eat? Are you hungry?”

He glances over at the tray on the bedside table. Disgust registering on his face at the sight of the cup of extremely weak tea, a styrofoam bowl of soup, and a container of red gelatin. “Not for that. That’s not food.”

“It’s the only food you’re allowed right now. Nothing solid. I don’t make the rules, honey. I just follow them and enforce them. You should eat a little bit; get your tummy used to food again.”

He grins. “My tummy?”

“Listen, I’m used to talking to little kids about this sort of thing. I can’t turn the mommy side of me off.”

“You’re a good mommy. A really good mommy.”

“I try. You really should eat. Just a little bit. The soup doesn’t look too bad. You want to try that?”

“It looks and smells like shit. Probably tastes like it too.”

She moves to the bedside table and pops the lid of the soup; using a plastic spoon to stir and poke at the mushy, pale green concoction before placing some in her mouth. “It’s surprisingly not bad. There’s actual taste to it. I think it’s a mixture of cream of broccoli and cauliflower.”

“I don’t know if I can take your word for it. About whether it’s good or not. I’ve been living with your cooking for almost seven years.”

“And you’re alive, aren’t you? You’re a big boy; you’re not wasting away. So it can’t be THAT bad. Hang on for a second; don't move. Don’t even make a different face. “ She fishes her phone from the pocket of her hoodie; flipping open the front cover of the case and then quickly snapping a picture of him. “Thank you, husband. Now I have proof.”

“Of what? The huge fucking mess I am? How I need my wife to babysit me?”

“Don’t be like that. I am not babysitting you, I’m taking care of you. And in case you haven’t noticed, you need a bit of help right now.”

“A bit? I’ve got a tube in my dick so I can take a piss, and I’m eating baby food. Which I can’t even feed to myself. What’s next? You’re going to have to wipe my ass for me?”

“If I have to, I will. In a heartbeat. And you know why? Because I love you, you insufferable bastard. And you would do it for me; if the situation was reversed. You would, right? Take care of me like that?”

“OF course I would. You’re my girl. My wife.”

“And you’re my husband. It’s what people who love each other do. Take care of one another.”

“But I’m the man. The man is supposed to…”

“Shhh…” she lays a palm over his mouth. “...none of that toxic masculinity shit. Here, have some soup.” She removes her hand from his face and holds the spoon to his lips; the other hand cupped under his chin to catch any spills. 

“That’s not soup. That’s baby food.”

“Which kept your first four children alive and helped them grow, right?”

“But I’m not a kid.”

“No. You’re not. But this is all you get right now and you need to at least eat a little bit. A few spoonfuls. It would make ME feel better; if you ate something. Happy wife, happy life. Eat the fucking soup.”

“I don’t remember you using the F word when you were feeding our babies that kind of shit.”

“I was thinking the F word. A lot. Especially when TJ used to blow raspberries when he had strained peas or green beans in his mouth. Don’t make me shove this food down your throat, Tyler James.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I could always get one of the personal support workers do it.”

He frowns. “No.” It’s one of the things he hates the most; the thought of a complete stranger helping him with basic needs.

“Eat the goddamn soup. Please.”

He sighs heavily, reluctantly opening his mouth and then quickly shutting it again.

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“What is your issue with the soup?”

“Why can’t I do this for myself again?” The confusion and the forgetfulness are courtesy of the amount of medication -sedation wise- that had been pumped into his system and still continues -albeit minimally- to be administered. Once he’s fully weaned off, those issues SHOULD disappear within a couple of days.

“Because you’re not supposed to use your right arm at all and your hands shake too much. From withdrawal.”

He accepts the explanation, and the first spoonful of food. “Why can’t I use my arm?”

“You have a torn rotator cuff and a shredded labrum and a lot of scar tissue pressing on some nerves. That’s why you’re getting those pins and needles in your hand,” she explains, and gives him another helping of soup.

“Why didn’t they just fix it?”

“I didn’t want them putting you through too much once.” Her tone never changes, nor do her eyes or the expression on her face. Always patient. Gentle. Loving. “It’ll get fixed when you get home. When we get you into the hospital there.”

“When’s that?”

“I don’t know yet. Couple weeks, probably. Maybe sooner if you keep doing as well as you are. And if you keep eating your soup. Not too bad, right?”

“Tastes like shit.”

Sorry, I don’t have access to vegemite. This the one and only time I’d actually suck it up make you a vegemite sandwich AND feed it to you. And by the way, the picture I took? It’s my evidence.”

“Of what?”

“That you pout.”

“I don’t pout. That wasn’t a pout. That was a frown.”

“It was a pout. You want more? Or do you want to try the jello?”

“I’ll try it. It’s not baby food, at least.”

“Probably not real jello, either. And don’t be grumpy. I don't care how adorable it is when you are.”

“What did I tell you about the A word?”

“You’re adorable and you’ll never convince me otherwise.” She places the half eaten bowl of soup to the tray, licking the spoon clean as she returns with the gelatin.

“Don’t do that,” he teases. “I don’t want your cooties.”

“I think we’ve shared way more than cooties in the past seven years. You seem to forget I’ve had your dick in my mouth. On multiple occasions.”

“Oh trust me, I could never forget THAT. What flavour is it? What does it taste like?”

“Depends what you eat during the day. Sometimes it’s salty, sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes there’s no flavour.”

“ Not THAT. The jello.”

“I think it’s supposed to be cherry.”

“Supposed to be?”

“Shut up and try it.”

“You’re bossy. Like your daughter.”

“You like it.”

“Depends on the circumstance. You’re beautiful, by the way.”

“I look like shit. But thank you,” she pecks his lips.

“Never. You never look like shit.”

“All the ass kissing in the world won’t save you from trying the jello,” she chides.

Neither of them speak for several minutes, and when the cup of gelatin is finished, she playfully -and affectionately- ruffles his hair and places a kiss on his forehead. 

“You’re a good patient. My all time favourite. Even when you’re grumpy.”

“I don’t mean to be grumpy. Not with you.”

“I know. You have any pain?”

“A little.”

“Back?”

Tyler nods.

“It’s the pressure on the wound. Lean forward a little bit.” She places a forearm against his chest for support, then moves one of the pillows further down the bed; wedging it between him and the mattress and then helping him lay back. “Better?”

“A little. You’re good at this. This nurse stuff.”

“You and the kids are the only ones I’d be able to do this with. Strangers? No thanks. Feel a little better?” She uses two fingertips to gently clear any leftover food from his lips. “Tummy okay?” 

“Feels okay,” he confirms, then scowls. “Why can’t I feel my legs?”

“Nerve blocks,” she gently reminds him. “To help with the pain. You had three pretty serious surgeries done all at once. It was the best option. I didn’t want you to be in agony and I didn’t want you to be able to move and maybe hurt yourself.”

“You told them to do it?”

“I had two options. Nerve blocks, and a tube they’d put right into your spine that they could put medication through. I chose the nerve blocks.”

“Like an epidural? The other option?”

“Kind of . And seeing as you almost fainted when they gave it to me while I was in labour with Millie, I decided to spare you.”

“Good call, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I got you. Always. You feeling alright?”

“A little tired.”

“This is the longest you’ve been up. And the chattiest. I’m shocked.”

“Maybe I just like your company.”

“Well I like yours, so…” she softly kisses him.

“Will I be able to feel them again? My legs?”

“They’re going to stop with the blocks while you’re sleeping tonight. It’ll take a couple days; to get the feeling back.”

“Are you sure? That it’ll come back?”

“I’m sure, baby. This is only temporary. Just give it a couple days, okay? You trust me, right?”

“With my life. And I think it says a lot that I just let you feed me baby food. And what’s up with this stupid fucking thing?” He nods down at the metal ‘cage’ around his thigh. 

“It’s helping the femur heal. It was a bad break. A VERY bad break. It was the best option to fix it.” She’s explained it all -the surgeries, the loss of feeling in his legs, the apparatus on the right one- at least a dozen times in the past twenty four hours. But she’s always the same; calm and gentle. But she hates how it makes her feel. Not having to answer the same questions over and over again, but at how confused he gets and in turn, how frustrated he becomes. And how he sometimes looks and sounds so sad and scared. Like a lost, hurting little boy.

“How long do I have to have it on for?”

“A while.”

“How long’s a while?”

“Three or four months.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious? Why so long?”

“Because your leg needs to heal. Properly. This was the best way to do it. I would have picked another way...an easier way…if they’d given me another option.”

“I’m not mad at you. Please don’t think I’m mad at you. I’m not.”

“I know you’re not.”

“I’m a fucking asshole.”

“No. You’re not. You’re scared and you’re confused. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up, Tyler. This is a fucked up situation.”

“I'm not scared. I’m pissed. At this whole mess. At everything that happened. And the fact that sometimes, I don’t even remember what DID happen. And I’m pissed at...at…” he frowns, unable to come up with the name.

“Nathan.”

“Yeah, him. I’m pissed at him. I swear; I am going to fucking hunt him down and kill him when I get out of here.”

“He’s already dead,” Esme gently reminds him, then puts down the railing on the left side of the bed and takes a seat beside him. “You don’t have to worry about him; he was taken care of.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent sure. Calm down, okay? Don’t get worked up. Especially over him. Why don’t you close your eyes and try and rest? You’ve been up for a long time.”

“I don’t want to rest. I’m tired of resting. It’ll rest when I fucking want to.”

“Don’t you get pissy with me, young man. Or I’ll never give you a sponge bath.”

“I can’t exactly enjoy your version of sponge baths with a tube in my dick. And I’m sorry. For getting pissy. I love you.”

“I know you do. And I love you. Even when you are pissy and grumpy. You’ll be getting rid of this soon too,” she lays a finger against the port of the central line. “They’re going to switch you over to a regular IV tonight. So you have to promise me that you won’t rip it out. You have a real uncanny ability of tearing your IVs out.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Don’t make me get them to put no-no’s on your arms. Remember when TJ split his head open?”

“The time he fell off the back deck in Telluride? Or right after we moved back to Australia and he announced he was Superman and he could fly and he launched himself over the second floor banister?”

“The Superman incident.”

“Yeah, I definitely remember that. I was home alone with him. All of them. And he did that stupid shit.”

“They had put the no-no’s on him so he wouldn’t pick at the stitches. He was so pissed! He is a TRUE junior. Not just in name, either. He is so much like you, baby. A mini you.”

“I miss him. I miss all of them.”

“I know you do. And you’ll see them soon. When you get sent to the hospital back home.”

“That’s not soon enough.”

“No. It’s not. But I knew you wouldn’t want them here or staying in Mumbai. That’s why I sent them home. It wasn’t to hurt you. Or punish you. You know that, right?”

“I know it wasn’t. I know it’s what was best for them. I just miss them. And I guess I don’t really want them seeing me this bad.”

“You actually look really good considering. And you’ll get the stitches out in three days. Are they getting itchy?”

He nods.

“You’re going to be so sexy; with your new scars.”

“You have a very weird definition of sexy.”

“You’re my definition of sexy. I don’t care how many scars you have. Would it bother you? If it was me all beat up?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

“And that’s how I feel about you. To me you’re the most beautiful man in the world.”

“Did you just really drop the B word?”

“You’re beautiful and I don’t care what you say. Fight me.”

“You’d be able to kick my ass right now. Can I get rain check?”

She sighs dramatically. “I suppose.”

“Do they know? The kids? Do they know what happened?”

“They know the basics. I didn’t give them too many details. They know daddy got hurt and that he needs to stay here until the doctors say it’s okay to send him to a hospital closer to home. Maybe when you’re fully off the sedation and you’re up to it, you can video chat with them. They would love that. And I know you would too.”

“I can do that. Are they okay? With what you told them?”

“They’re sad. A little scared. But they’ve got a lot of people around them that will reassure them that you’re going to be okay. And they’re back at school and doing pretty good. They have a lot of crafts to show you. And the principal said there’s a special school. A private one; for kids like Tanner. Gifted kids. Because he’s so smart and he’s not being challenged where he is and he deserves better than that. And we can more than afford it.”

“Do whatever you think is best for him. You know what that is. I trust you to make the right decision.”

“Both of their classes made you huge get well cards; they’ll show when you video chat with them. And they have so much to tell you.”

“I bet they do. And I can’t wait to see all of it. I miss it; that kind of stuff. I miss life in general. OUR life.”

“We’ll get back to it soon. We’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. Together.”

“Yeah…” Tyler smiles. “...we do.”

She leans down to kiss him. “Your daughter is super pissed. At me. For lying to her at first. She won’t talk to me.”

“She’ll get over it. You’re her mom. She loves you. You did what you thought was the best for her. And it was. It WAS the best thing for her.”

Esme nods in agreement, then closes her eyes and rests her head back against his chest. It’s incredible. That solid, strong body and the warmth that radiates off it, being able to both feel and hear his heart beating; the weight of his head as he rests his cheek against her hair. How even with those stitches in his left shoulder, he still manages to sneak his arm around her; hand resting on her baby bump.

“It’s getting big, huh?”

“It’s cute. Just makes you more beautiful. I can’t wait to see it; watching you get bigger with the baby. MY baby.”

“You sappy bastard you,” she teases, and tilts her head up towards him and presses a kiss to his chin. And for several minutes, neither of them speak; his hand moving in slow, smooth circles over her bump, her body relaxing against his, feeling as if she could drift off into a peaceful, well deserved nap. But it’s short lived; eyes snapping open when she feels his body tense and then begins to tremble. It’s heartbreaking; the mental anguish so clearly etched on his face, the tears that stream down his cheeks.

“Baby…” she turns to face him, laying a hand on the side of his face. “...what’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

“I know; life’s pretty shitty at this moment.”

“You’re the only thing that’s right in it. You and the baby.”

“Don’t leave out how great you’re doing. Because this is a huge right. Believe me, it is. You came so fucking close, Tyler. But you’re here and you’re doing amazing and things will only get better. And you have proved so many people wrong. That has to feel good, right?”

“It does actually.”

“I’m sorry. That you’re going through this. I’d take it all away if I could.”

“I know you would. I’m just glad you’re here. Not just here, here. But HERE. Alive. Because what he said…”

“No,” she gently orders. “We are not going to talk about that. Don’t do this to yourself. It doesn’t matter what he said. I’m here. The kids are fine. Fuck what he said. Please don’t think about that. Don’t think about him at all.”

“Hard not to. He’s the reason I’m in this fucking mess.”

“And he paid for it. Trust me, he did. So don’t give him another thought. Think about other things. Think about us. The kids. How good it’s going to be to get home. Even if it’s just to a hospital there. The one in Cairns is really nice. The ward you’ll be on? All the rooms overlook the beach. That’s perfect for you. And you’ll be able to see the kids all the time once you’re there. That’ll do you a world of good.”

He nods in agreement.

“You’re tired. You need some rest. You’ve been up a hell of a long time. I’m so proud of you. You have no idea HOW proud.”

He manages a small smile.

“You need sleep. You’ve used a lot of energy today already.”

“Doing what? Sitting on my ass?”

“It takes a lot of energy to heal. And you’ve been sleeping well; no pain for once. No bad dreams.”

“I had a good dream though. Good in a sad way.”

“About what?”

“My mum.”

“When you were a kid?”

“No. She was with OUR kids. At our house. She was on the beach with them; walking in the surf. And she looked back at me and she smiled and she was so beautiful…” his voice cracks with emotion. “...like that picture I showed you; the one when I was five. She looked just like that. And she was happy. She was SO happy. No bruises, no cuts, no old man in sight.”

“Baby…” she carefully kneels on the bed, then pushes her hands through his hair and kisses his brow. “...it’s okay.”

“I’d give anything for that dream to be real. Anything.”

“So would I, believe me.”

“After this first happened, I had a dream about her then, too. She told me not to be afraid. And I don’t know if that meant not to be afraid because I was going to be okay, or don’t be afraid to die.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the first one.”

“I didn’t want to die. But I was expecting to.”

Her heart shatters at his confession, and it takes all her willpower and strength to not cry herself. Instead, she places a hand on the back of his head and draws it down to her shoulder. Both of his arms -despite their injures and the pain and discomfort accompanying them- wrapping around her waist. His entire body shaking as he sheds enough tears for both of them.

*****

Koen and Rata take up residence in Tyler’s room while he sleeps. He can’t be left alone; panic immediately taking hold of him if he awakens and no one -especially her- is there with him. It’s the confusion and the ‘fog’ caused by the weaning of the sedation and the increase of pain meds; his brain not allowing him to remember where he is, why he’s there, or that she is even alive. Torturing him with the last thing ever said to him inside the storage facility; the promise that Asif’s people would get to her and the children, torture them, then kill them. 

She goes to lunch with Sanjib and two others from the ICU ‘family’, a young woman whose brand new husband had been in a horrific car accident, and an elderly man whose only surviving relative -a great grandson in his twenties- had overdosed on a near lethal combination of street drugs. And it makes her blood run cold when the latter situation leads to talk of Amir Asif and his long standing -despite his death- reputation as the biggest and most evil drug lord in Bangladesh history. She offers no comment or opinion; not revealing her own seven year long tie to the man in question or her connection to the infamous ‘shoot out’ on the Sultana Kamal Bridge or the now well known incident three days before. She acts oblivious to it all; pretending to both listen intently and concentrate on her food. The conversation makes her feel nauseous and anxious; internally screaming about the false information and pure speculation being spread around the table. Desperately wanting to set the record straight yet knowing it isn’t her battle to fight anymore; the last of Asif’s men dead, their demise hopefully ending his posthumous reign of terror. It’s hard not to share her personal -and very accurate- account of what happened seven years ago; the memories and the images still so vivid and fresh. She is still able to to remember certain moments right down to the very second; recall conversations word for word. But it would be for nothing; stirring up a hornet’s nest that’s better left to wither and rot. That chances are good that she won’t be believed; her lunch companions would laugh it off and accuse her of lying and she’d be left with the anxiety or reliving the nightmare in the first place . And she’s thankful when the conversation changes to other matters; world news and celebrity gossip.

“I almost forgot what it feels like,” Sanjib says, as they slowly make their way back to the hospital; a two block journey from the small dinner they’d converged on. “The sun on my face. The breeze in my air.”

“I almost forgot what it was like to wear real clothes,” Esme quips. “ARE leggings considered real clothes? Real pants? Because none of my shorts or my jeans fit. I can’t even get them over my stomach, let alone closed and done up. I am not amused.”

“Real clothes are whatever you feel most comfortable in. My wife always says that; when someone complains about her choice of casual attire. How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know. We were in Mumbai when we found out about this little bean. It’s what we call them; when I’m pregnant. Little bean. Or beans, for the twins.”

“That’s very cute.”

“My husband started it; after the very first ultrasound with our daughter. He said she looked like a little bean and it stuck. I can’t be anymore than thirteen weeks; it’s mathematically and biologically impossible. That’s the first time we...you know...after our last baby was born. And she was three weeks then , so…”

“It was a surprise? This baby?”

“Very much a surprise. In more ways than one. None of our kids were really planned, though. Declan in a way, I guess. That’s number four. We had a miscarriage between him and his older brothers; that’s why there’s three and a bit years between them. It did a lot of damage to both of us; mentally speaking. It took us a while to be ready to try again. But it happened quickly when we decided to go for it.”

“Do you have a preference? Boy or girl?”

“If I’m totally honest, I do. I want a boy. Our daughter Millie is six, and none of my boys have been as difficult as her. I love her to death; she’s my first and she’s beautiful and incredible. But holy crap! The drama! And the attitude! She’s just...I don’t know...she’s just extra. Do they use that word here? Extra?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well let me tell you , she is very extra! The pre-teen and years are going to be brutal. My husband wants a boy, too. Although it doesn’t really matter that much to him; he’s very ‘as long as momma and baby are healthy’. That’s all he really cares about. He worries about me. All the time. Even now. No matter what he’s going through...how brutal it is...he always puts me first. He’s pretty incredible that way. Actually, he’s pretty incredible in a lot of ways.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He is. He really is. He’s big and he’s tough and he can be pretty intimidating IF he wants to be, but he’s got a huge heart. When he loves, he loves huge. You should come into the room sometime and meet him; when he’s up to it. I think you’d really like him. He’s a little tough on the outside, but I promise he’s pretty tame. Unless you’re threatening his family. THAT doesn’t go over well. He’s not afraid to defend and fight for what’s his. Or stand up for what’s right.”

“I’d like to meet him. He sounds…interesting.”

“He is. In his own way. People are always surprised when they get to know him. They look at him and assume things about him. Some ARE true, mind you. When you do meet him, you’ll see what I mean. He’s a study in contradiction. I learned that real quick. And I think it’s what made me fall in love with him in the first place.”

“And you met working?”

“We did. We were assigned to the same job. Just the two of us. Things took off from there. It’s kind of strange and a little complicated; the hows and the whys.”

“Try me. I’d like to hear it.”

“You sure? It’s a dandy. I don’t tell many people.”

“How bad could it be?”

“It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just...surprising.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“Alright. Keep in mind, this is something I don’t just don’t tell everyone. You’ll understand why when I DO tell you. No one ever expects it.” Sighing, she takes a sip from the plastic cup of iced coffee in her possession. “Tyler...my husband...is a mercenary.”

Sanjib stares down at her, both eyebrows arched.

“Right?” Esme laughs. “I said it was surprising. That’s not what you thought I was going to say, was it.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well he is. A mercenary. And we met on the job. Here in Dhaka. Well, we technically met in Australia, but everything between us started here.”

“You’re one as well?”

“No. I’m not. I never have been. My job was to help guys like him information they needed; about people they’re after. And this job we were on was a little different than most. We actually had to pretend we were married. That’s how it all started. How WE started. We met and things happened while we were working together and well…seven years and five kids….” she lays a hand on her bump. “...SIX kids later, here we are. My fake husband became my real husband.”

“Now I’m even more curious. What kind of job?”

“I had to help him find where a fourteen year old boy was being held. Amir Asif took him.”

“You’re talking about Ovi Mahajan's son?”

She nods.

“I was just a boy when that happened. Only sixteen. Forgive me, but how old ARE you?”

“Old enough to have almost six kids and an almost forty two year old husband. But if you thought I was younger, thank you. My ego needed that.”

“So you did know. About what we were talking about at lunch.”

“Yeah, I did. And I wanted to say something and clear some things up, but it wouldn’t have done any good. It just would have stirred up a lot of bad things for me. A lot of bad memories. Things I can’t seem to let go of. And it wasn’t entirely wrong; what you guys were talking about. We DID cause a big old mess on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. That was all us.”

“You were there. On the bridge?”

“I was. I pretty much heard and saw everything that went down. It’s pretty accurate; the way it was described at lunch. But the man who got the boy out…who was responsible for it...he is very much alive. And I’m very much married to him. He got off the bridge. Barely. But he did.”

“I’m sorry. The stories have all been the same. That he died. On the bridge. If I’d known…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, and in a way, that’s what we wanted; people to think he died. It meant they wouldn’t come looking for him. Which in turn meant I was safe, too. And eventually our little girl. It worked for a while, but they...Asif’s people...figured it out. And they found us and made our lives hell and we’ve pretty much spent the last seven years worrying about when they’d physically come after us. Always wondering IF they would. And they did. They came hard. They teamed up with Mahajan and they took people we care about. And that’s what happened four days ago. I know it’s been all over the news. The bloodbath at the storage facility north of here. About all the bodies; Asif’s people.”

“That was you?”

“Well not me per say, but yeah. It was. They did and said horrible things. About me. About my children. Things they would do to my daughters. My little girls. They’re six and four months, and these people were going to hurt them. In ways that physically make me sick to think about. I can handle what’s said about me. I’ve had bigger and better threaten me. But those are my kids. My babies. And when I think about what could have happened…”

“I’m sorry.” Sanjib says, and lays a comforting hand on her back. “I didn’t…”

“My husband isn’t usually about revenge. He’s the one always giving me shit when I talk about wanting it. But he won’t back down when people are threatening his family. Especially his children. He will fight to the death for them; no questions asked. And that’s almost what happened. They almost DID kill him. That’s what happened; in that storage place. He got our friends out and he got the revenge he wanted. That I wanted. I told him to do whatever he had to make them pay. And now look. Look what happened to him. He’s paid too high a price. Way too high.”

“He was protecting you. And your children.”

“It’s still too high. These people are merciless. But they didn’t expect him to be even more so. So that’s what happened. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we were here seven years ago. Because Amir Asif...alive OR dead...won’t leave us alone. He won’t let us rest.”

****

She returns to the hospital an hour and a half after she left; emotionally drained following the emotional conversation with Sanjib, but somehow feeling lighter. It felt good; as if some of the burdens and the lingering horror of seven years ago had been stripped away, making her feel lighter and more optimistic. It’s a relief; getting it off of her chest. Able to finally vent to someone without the fear of judgment; able to just let go of some of the things that have been holding her back and weighing her down. It will be different this time; when they get home. She’ll finally be able to let it all go. To let the memories of seven years ago become just that; memories. No more dwelling on the mistakes made or the decisions that could have been different. No more nightmares and vivid recollections of that final twenty minutes on the bridge; holding a dying man in her arms and putting her fingers through the hole in his neck in a desperate attempt to keep him alive.

This time when she leaves Dhaka, she’s leaving it behind for good.

“You missed some excitement,” Koen says in a way of greeting when she steps into the room, slipping out of the bedside chair with a loud yawn and a languorous stretch. 

She sets her purse and a take out container of food on the window ledge. “ I don’t really don't want to know do I.”

“You never told me about that drongo’s apprehension when it comes to strangers touching him.”

“Oh no…” she glances towards Tyler; fast asleep, hair damp and his beard trimmed. “...please tell me they didn’t send a PSW in here.”

“They sure as shit did.”

“I specifically told them NOT to send in someone. It’s written right in his chart; no one is to come in here and force their services on him. How bad did it get?”

“Bad enough they wanted to sedate AND restrain him. Seems like these blokes don’t know how to take no for an answer; no matter how big and strong the guy is that keeps saying no. All those drugs in him and all those injuries, and that fucker fought with the strength of ten men. Took me and Rata and two orderlies to hold him down. Just to get his hair washed and his beard trimmed.”

“Was he sleeping? Did they wake him up to do it?”

Koen nods.

“That’s why he freaked out. When he wakes up he’s disoriented. He’s confused and he’s scared and being in a hospital freaks him out. He has to take meds when I go into labour; so he’s calm enough to walk through the front door and he can see his child being born. It’s his fight or flight. And he chooses fight. Every damn time.”

“Color me surprised.”

“He was probably losing it because I wasn’t here, right?”

“He was upset; pretty certain you were dead. No matter how many times we told him you were fine and just went out for a bit. It was like he didn’t even hear us.”

“He probably didn’t. He doesn’t know what he’s doing when he’s like that. That’s what his brain does to him. And now you’ve seen it yourself. All those times you’ve got on his ass about being ‘sick in the head’ and to just ‘suck it up’. Well, now you’ve got to witness what it does to him. The PTSD. How’d he calm down?”

“They gave him some meds. Through the line thing.”

“They sedated him? Are you fucking serious right now? You didn’t say anything?”

“They said it was just a little something to calm his nerves. And it worked; that poor PSW was able to get shit done.”

“Yeah, and now look. He’s out. We are trying to wean him off sedation. Not give him more. Jesus Christ. This is what I wanted. I told them not to give him anything. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come back right away. He would have been fine when I got here. I would have been able to calm him down. Now…” she gestures towards the bed. “...he’s out again. Not what I wanted.”

“I didn’t know that. If I’d known…”

“It’s not your fault. It’s theirs. They were told not to send anyone in here. I said I would do it. I’d wash his hair, cut it if he wanted, trim his beard. He was fine with that. He wanted ME to do it. And then they totally go against that? What the fuck?”

“Sorry, sunshine,” he presses a kiss to her cheek and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Didn’t mean to shit on your parade.”

“Where did Rata go? Did he get scared off?”

“Once again, he saw something he liked. This time it WAS a brunette.”

“I thought he had a girlfriend?”

“They broke up when he agreed to become a merc. The world’s his oyster now.”

She gives a derisive snort and rolls her eyes.

“I’m going to get a drink. A stiff one.”

“There’s a bar in this hospital?”

“No. But there’s a mini one in my hotel room. Need me to bring you anything?”

“Some tequila would be nice, but seeing as I have this inside of me…” she lays her hands on the sides of her bump. “...I’m shit out of luck.”

“Shouldn’t have let something else inside you and it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Very cute,” she grumbles, and he playfully tousles her hair before heading from the room. 

Esme toes off her running shoes and then slips into the bedside chair; leaning back and putting her feet on the mattress. 

“You just had to be difficult didn’t you,” she lightly scolds her sleeping husband. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you here. And I’m sorry that they sent someone in here AND they gave you meds. That is not what I wanted. At all. I don’t blame you for being pissed. I don’t like strangers touching me, either. I met someone nice here though; another ICU family member. Just a young guy; his wife had a stroke giving birth to their first kid. Remember how scared we were just because I bled a little too much with Millie? We thought THAT was scary. Or even when my blood pressure went up with the twins. We thought THAT was bad. But this? Having a stroke while giving birth? What the hell? How can the universe allow that to happen? Bring a baby into the world but take its mom at the same time? Can you imagine? You’d be a basket case and burn the whole fucking place down if something like that happened to me. And this poor guy…this new father…” she shakes her head and fights back her tears. “...it’s just so sad. His wife probably won’t make it and he’s got this beautiful baby girl at home. Maybe when you’re up to it, you can meet him and talk to him. A little dad to dad chat. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

She sighs heavily, then runs her hands over and along her bump. “I need to be honest about something. Either this baby is going to weigh over ten pounds or there is more than one. And if it’s over ten pounds, I’m doing a home vasectomy on you. That way I’m guaranteed no more surprises. We haven’t used any of those knives from the set your dad gave as a wedding present. I bet one of those bad boys could do the trick. But, on the bright side, I brought you REAL soup for dinner. Sweet potato and thyme. It’s delicious. I made them puree it really good. I felt you deserved better than glorified baby food. I hope you wake up soon. I miss you. As corny as that sounds. I know we just talked like two hours ago, but I miss being able to talk to you whenever I want. I miss spending time with you. REAL time. Not like this.”

She slides further down into the seat and moves her feet further onto the bed, until her toes touch the side of his thigh. And she closes her eyes as she leans her head back against the chair; minutes away from sleep when a light knock comes to the door.

“Holy shit!” She can’t hold the cry that escapes from her mouth, the chair being pushed back from the bed as she hurries towards the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?!”

“Thought you might fancy a visit.”

“Oh my God...Andy…” She throws her arms around his torso and buries her face in her chest; not bothering to restrain the tears that flow from her eyes. “...what the hell? What…?”

He chuckles and embraces her warmly. “None of that now. No tears. Unless they’re happy ones.”

“Happy and surprised ones,” she says, and he cradles her face in his hands as she looks up at him. “What are you doing here? In Dhaka?”

“Thought I’d come and see how things were. How the two of you are doing. I’m an artist when I feel like it; I have a lot of time on my hands.” He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. “How are you?”

“Right this second? Shocked. I can’t believe you’re here. We just talked two days ago.”

“And after I hung up, I decided to come here. Thought you could use another someone. A different face.”

“I can’t believe you came here...all this way...for us.”

“That’s what friends do, right? They make a way to get to each other. I made a way. Here I am. How is he?”

“Amazing, actually. He’s doing really well. Proving a lot of people wrong, that’s for sure. You can come in. He’s having more wakeful moments. He might wake up if he knows you’re here.”

“Let him rest. He needs it. Come with me….” he slips behind her, then places his hands on her shoulders and steers her out of her room. “...I have something to show you. Go out now; into the hall.”

“What are you up to?” She laughs, then glances left to right when she steps out onto the hall. “What do you have to show me?”

“Over here…” he lays his hands against the side of her face and turns her head to the right. “...the nurses station. Look there.”

“What about it? A nurse is holding a baby and the rest of them are gathered and their ovaries are exploding at how cute the baby is. Why…” her voice trails off, eyes widening and a hand moving up to cover her mouth. “...is that MY baby?”

“Someone missed their momma just as much their momma missed them.”

“Oh my God...Addie…” It comes out as a choked whisper, and she breaks away from her friend and rushes over to the nurse’s station. 

“She’s beautiful,” the young nurse holding the infant hands her over to her mother. “And tiny.”

“Thank you. Oh my God...Adeline...” she manages through her sob of relief, and settles Addie along her arm, Managing a laugh at the sight of the custom made onesie the baby sports; DADDY’S LITTLE PEANUT written across it in pink and purple glitter. “Addie…” she presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and runs her fingers through that soft dark hair, smiling when the baby flashes one of her own and reaches for Esme’s hair. “...I missed you. I missed you so much. I was worried you’d forget me.”

“You’re her momma,” Andy says as he joins her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “She could never forget you.”

“Ovi was supposed to bring her. Tomorrow. What…?”

“Change of plans. I have a room across the street. If you want to stay here at night, she can stay there with me. I’m a dad; I know what I’m doing.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how badly I needed to see her. To be with her. I could never, ever thank you enough. Or repay you.”

“That smile is all the payment and thanks I’d ever need,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her head and leads her back to the room.


	90. Chapter 90

“I have a serious bone to pick with you,” Riley scolds, thousands of miles away in her dorm room at Colorado State. Clad in a black and green plaid hunting jacket that’s miles too big on her petite frame, vibrant red hair tucked up into a ‘trucker style’ ball cap. “Why did I have to find out about this from Douchey McDouche Face?”

Despite there being a near fourteen year age difference between them and no blood ties whatsoever, their relationship has always been strong; even with the familial drama and the miles that have continuously kept them separated. Esme can vividly remember meeting her for the first time; a then three year old gazing up at her -all of seventeen- with pure adoration and idolization. That cute little ginger with her massive green eyes and her already fiery personality; drawn to Esme and her then tomboyish style and her penchant -despite her own small stature- for full contact sports. She can even recall how good it had felt; having someone that DID look at her that way.

For years she'd been practically invisible; the last child between her mother and father, treated as if there’d been simply no love left to bestow on her after piling it on five boys. Her father had been her only source of real affection; the only person who’d ever showed pride in her achievements and never dragged her down for her choices or belittled her passions and interests. When he died, everything went to shit. While her mother’s toxicity increased and she kicked the emotional abuse up several notches, her brothers had all tried -in their obnoxious and overbearing ways- to step up and take their father’s place in her life. They’d all failed, causing her to become uncharacteristically sullen and withdrawn; prone to cutting when the depressions and feelings of inadequacy hit especially hard and her mother no longer hide her rapidly growing hatred for her only daughter. Life had been pretty dark; many moments where she thought the world would be a better place without her in it and she’d actually been in possession of handfuls of pills and had the desire -and the chance- to end the suffering. 

Then ‘The Sarge’ had come along. Filling that fatherly role without expecting or demanding it; letting her call the shots and make the moves when it came to accepting him into her life. And he’d ‘shown up’ in ways her mother and brothers never bothered; quietly and lovingly, showing interest in her life and valuing her opinions and thoughts and getting involved in the things she enjoyed. She was no longer the only one on the wrestling squad or the lacrosse team or at swim meets without someone there to support her. Sarge would always be there; sitting in the front row, enthusiastically cheering her on and nudging other parents with his elbow while proudly declaring “that’s MY girl!”.

And just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get better, they did. Sarge was granted full custody of his only child; her mother choosing her career over that adorable redhead. Despite their age difference, she and Riley had become inseparable. Happily and willingly taking the little girl to the movies or the mall; listening to preschool gossip while out for dinner at McDonalds, letting the little girl climb into bed with her during thunderstorms or after a bad dream. Over the years they’d both been branded as the ‘black sheep’; ostracized for their ‘lifestyle choices’ and how ‘wayward and lost’ they’d managed to become. 

Nothing brings two people together like shared alienation and pure hatred and spite for their ‘enemies’.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Esme attempts to reason, as she conducts the video chat in one of the ICU’s private family meeting rooms. “I know finals are coming up. And you’ve been busy with placement. I didn’t want to add THIS to your plate.”

She’d left Tyler in extremely compassionate hands: a quiet and gentle Andy, who’d been standing over his sleeping friend and in the midst of a traditional Aboriginal blessing and prayer for healing. She’d had to leave; the purity and the beauty of both Andy’s heart and the moment too profound for her already fragile emotions to handle. Instead she spends the time with both her sister and Addie; the infant cuddled close to her chest, a receiving blanket emblazoned with images of Baby Dumbo covering her as she nurses. She had terribly missed even the simplicity and familiarity of such a common occurrence; the light weight of her daughter’s tiny body against hers, those tiny hands that gently knead at her breast or grab at her necklace and reach for her hair. 

“THIS is my brother in law,” Riley says. “You know how much I love the guy. How much he’s the cat’s ass and I totally approve of how he treats you like a queen.”

“You’re one of the few people in my life who do. Love him.”

“Well NOT everyone can have exceptional taste. They’re just bitter and jealous. You got out of that shit hole and away from their crap. They’re all still stuck in and thriving on it; too chicken shit to ever think on their own, in fear of pissing off Mommy Dearest. Tyler’s the best thing that came along to that family in...well...forever. They’re just pissed they can’t control him; that he gives zero fucks about any of them and doesn't shy away from letting them know.”

“Mommy Dearest still insists he’s the WORST thing to ever happen. That I’ve somehow been forced into this life and he’s somehow brainwashed me and has some strong and powerful hold over me that keeps me around.”

Riley gives a derisive snort.

“I mean even in her condition, she still managed to send me an email asking me when I was going to get my shit together and realize ‘that man’ is nothing but poison and bad news. She didn’t even remember the twins’ birthdays or Millie’s. Or she did and just didn’t give a shit. She’s always treated those kids differently from the rest. All because she has this stupid, imaginary axe to grind against Tyler.”

“Fuck her,” Riley snarls. “You’re way too good for her. For that whole damn family. You always have been. And he is DEFINITELY way too good for them. Probably why none of your brothers like him; he makes them feel inferior and most definitely puts their masculinity into doubt. They’re probably pissed off their wives think of him when they’re flicking the bean.”

Esme frowns. “Riley!”

“Please tell me you’re still not bringing your bullshit; the whole insecurity crap. Who cares if other women lust after your husband? Or if they get themselves off thinking about him? Who is the one HE is getting off in person? Who gets to have THAT going down on her whenever she damn well wants? Cut your shit; he only has eyes for you.”

“It’s not him I don’t trust.”

“He knows how to say no. I’m sure he has, many times. No one else exists in his eyes. There’s not one woman in this world that would make that man unfaithful. So stop. Let other women...and probably more than a handful of men...fantasize about him. You get the real thing. I mean, he is so hot, he almost turned ME straight. Almost.”

Esme laughs at that. 

“And that last picture you sent? The family one you guys did before Christmas? Whoa! Dude is looking thick and buff as fuck! What are you feeding him?”

“His favourite meal. Remember what he told you THAT was?”

“I sure as shit do! It’s the same as mine. Atta boy. The man from down under likes to spend a lot of time down under. That’s the spirit! And speaking of my favorite Aussie, what the fuck Tyler? What kind of god awful shitty mess did you get yourself caught up in?”

“Godawful shitty mess does not even begin to accurately describe what happened, believe me.”

“I called your place because I wanted to come down and visit for a couple of weeks next month. Finally see Australia! Bring the new girl for you all the meet. Cuddle my nieces and nephews and spoil the shit out of them with presents and candy. And what do I find out? What does Fire Chief Dick for Brains tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Ry. I should have called you. I just didn’t want to burden you. I know you have a lot going on with school and placement and your social life and…”

“Fuck all of that. None of that matters. You’re my sister. That’s my brother in law. The father of my nieces and nephews. You’re my family. All that matters to me is you guys.”

“Please don’t take it personally. It’s just a huge mess and my brain is not functioning at a hundred percent right now. All I’ve been concentrating on is him. He’s my number one priority right now; helping him heal and getting him out of here and sent to a hospital back home. I didn’t purposefully leave you out.”

“Do you need me to come? Just say the word MeMe. I’ll get on the next flight.”

Esme smiles at the nickname; a little something a then four year old Riley had come up with because she couldn’t properly pronounce her new step sister’s name. “I missed that,” she says. “Hearing you call me that.”

“You’ll always be MeMe to me. Do you need me there? Do you WANT me there? Because I will put everything aside and get to you. You know I will.”

“As much I’d love to see you and have you here, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to concentrate on school and your placement and your new love. And Tyler would want all that, too. He would not expect you to drop everything for him. He’d give you shit for it, you know he would.”

“He is such a stubborn fuck, I swear. Love the guy, but he does my head in. And this isn’t about expecting it from me; it’s about me wanting to be there for you. I want to be there for you. Let me be there for you.”

“Ry, I love you and appreciate you so much. And I miss you. Terribly. But this isn’t the place for you. You need to stay where you are and concentrate on school and just get on with things.”

“How am I supposed to do that when Tyler is messed up like his? How am I supposed to concentrate on things when you’re going through this?”

“Because that’s what we BOTH want you to do. There is no reason for you to put your life on hold to come here. Everything is so up in the air right now. There’s no timetable for his recovery; we have no idea how long it’s going to be until he can be sent home. And even then he’s going to be admitted to a hospital there. It’ll be awhile until he’s home, home.”

“This is just such bullshit,” Riley sighs heavily. “I am so sorry. MeMe. That you’re going through this. I know how much you love him. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like; seeing him so torn up. It was bad, wasn’t it. What was done to him?”

“It was pretty damn bad. He was in really rough shape when he was brought in.”

“How rough?”

“The roughest. Worse than seven years ago. Way worse. He told me that he didn’t want to die, but he was expecting it.”

“Jesus…” Riley breathes. “...for a guy like Tyler to come right out and admit that…”

“It was horrible; seeing him like that. I will never forget that as long as I live. I thought what I saw on the bridge...had to do on the bridge...was awful. But seeing him? After the surgeries and all the wounds so new and fresh? I can’t even begin to describe it. How it made me feel.”

“I am so sorry, I am so goddamn sorry.”

“I mean, that’s the love of my life. The father of my kids. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And to see him like that…like this…” she takes a deep, shaky breath and releases it slowly. “...it hurts. So much. That’s my whole heart, Riley. HE’S my whole heart.”

“I’m going to come there. To Dhaka. I don’t want you going through this alone. I don’t…”

“I’m fine,” Esme assures her. “I really am. I’m not alone either; a lot of friends are here to help out and watch over me. And now I’ve got this little muffin…” she lifts the edge of the blanket and glances down at Addie; those huge brown eyes staring up at her, then crinkling when the infant smiles. “...it’s better now that she’s here. Or at least that one of them is here.”

“Do you want me to go to Australia? I can stay at your place, help with the kids. As much as I hate Fire Chief Dick for Brains, I’ll put up with him. Just for you.”

“The kids are fine, I promise. I just miss them. A lot. Once he’s transferred home, it’ll be a whole new ballgame.”

“Any remote idea on what that’s going to be?”

“Two weeks. Three at the most.”

“Shit…” Riley shakes her head. “...oh Tyler, what the hell bruh…”

“It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. There could have been five kids with no daddy.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. How is he now? How is he doing?”

“He’s being weaned off of sedation. He has wakeful moments; periods where he’s pretty lucid. His memory is shit; he asks the same questions at least six times an hour. That’s just the meds though. They said once the sedation is totally out of him, his brain will go back to normal.”

“Whatever normal is for Tyler,” Riley chides. 

“He’s able to stay up for quite a while. He can carry on a conversation, but he gets confused really easily. And then he gets frustrated and embarrassed and he starts shutting down. And his emotions are all over the place; joking and somewhat happy one minute, a weepy mess the next.”

“How’s the PTSD been?”

“Now that he’s more coherent? It’s been a mess. When he wakes up he’s very disoriented and if he’s alone or there’s people in the room he doesn’t know…”

“Freaks out?”

“He loses it. His fight or flight kicks in. And you know Tyler…”

“Always picks fight.”

Esme nods. “And he doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying when he’s like that and he’s freaking out because he thinks I’m dead and no one can convince him otherwise. A PSW came in; while I was out. Woke him. To wash his hair and trim his beard.”

“Oh no…”

“He fucking lost it, Ry. Which I knew would happen and is why I told them NOT to send someone in. He just went off. It took four people to hold him down, and that was AFTER they gave him sedation. You would have thought nothing was wrong with him; that’s how hard he fought. This is a man who can’t even walk right now. And he still scared the shit out of the PSW. Threatened to break his neck with his bare hands and told him how he’s done it before. Many times. Then told him he’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass.”

“So what’s the difference in him after all this? That sounds like Tyler on a good day.”

Esme can’t help but laugh. “I think he made the PSW piss his pants.”

“Serves him right if he can’t follow instructions. Is it in his chart? That no one is supposed to come in?”

Esme nods.

“Well fuck him then. Read the patient’s chart. It’s not that hard. Is it wrong that I’d give my right arm to see him rip someone’s head off and shove it up their ass? I bet he could do it too. I bet he’s done shit that defies logic.”

“Well he did once kill two people with a garden rake.”

“How fitting. A Rake, using a rake. Perfection. What’s his injuries like? Kyle says they’re pretty gnarly.”

“Why do you sound so pleased at the thought?”

“I’m in nursing school. This shit excites me. I can’t help it.”

“Gunshot wound to the back, lots of stitches, a torn MCL and ACL, open fracture of the right femur…”

“Do you have pictures of it?”

“Of what?”

“His femur.”

“Hell no, I don’t. Why would I want pictures of that?”

“Because that would be fucking amazing to see. Was it a true open fracture? Bone protruding and everything?”

“I guess. His friend said the bone was showing.”

“That is wild. I would have loved pictures; before AND after.”

Esme grimaces. “You’re disturbed.”

“Did they give him an ilizarov?”

“They said it would be on for a least three months. He is NOT happy.”

“Can you take pictures of that? And the gunshot wound?”

“Riley…”

“For scientific reasons, I swear. I just want to see them. I could even show my one prof and Tyler could be a case study.”

“I’d rather my husband NOT be one, thank you. He’s not your show and tell project.”

“Just go and take a couple pictures. Please? Pretty please? With whipped cream and sprinkles and a cherry on top?”

“He’s sleeping. I am not going in there and waking him up because you're a freak.”

“Best time to do it; when he’s sleeping.”

“I would never do that to him. There’s this thing called consent. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it…”

“When he wakes up, ask him if you can take pictures. If you tell them they’re for Red, he’ll be good with it. I know he will. He loves me.”

“He does, actually.”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. I’ll come down; once he’s in a hospital there. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“I talked to Mildred by the way…”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Millie is NOT short for Mildred.”

“Actually, it is.”

“Her name is not Mildred, though.”

“She LOVES when I call her that. Loves it. Anyway, how grown up is she sounding all of a sudden? It’s like she’s six going on sixteen! What is up with that kid?”

“She’s her father. What more do I have to say?”

“She even sounds like him! The way she says certain words and little sayings she has. I couldn’t believe it; it was like talking to a mini, girl version of him. Freaky! She’s pretty pissed, huh? At you?”

Esme sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“I told her to smarten up. That she’s got a great mom and she needs to appreciate it AND you. I told her to get her shit together and respect you. That if her dad finds out what she’s up to, it won’t be pretty. I said that he’ll stick up for her mom no matter WHO is disrespecting her. I think that scared her.”

“There’s nothing she hates more than the thought of her daddy being mad at her. That’s her WORST fear, I swear.”

“Well she needs to cut the attitude. I don’t tolerate that shit. I don’t think I’m the favorite Aunt anymore, by the way.”

“You’re her only Aunt.”

“I guess I’m excommunicated then. And speaking of being an aunt, let me see my little poop face.”

Esme removes the blanket covering Addie, then holds her onto the arms and places her in line with the camera.

“Oh my God…” Riley gives an excited squeal. “...look at Auntie Ry Ry’s little poop face! You’re getting so big!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Esme laughs. “She just got into the newborn clothes. She’ll be four months.”

“She’s still grown a lot since the last time I saw her. Look at you, Addie! Look how beautiful you are. Look at how much you look like your mommy! You’re the lucky one, huh? Getting your momma’s looks? She’s smiling, MeMe. That smile is everything! She has Tyler’s smile.”

“It’s the one thing they all inherited. And she also got his appetite. I really need to get back to feeding her and I know it’s not the most pleasant thing to see while trying to have a conversation.”

“I don’t know, MeMe. I’ve had to look at worse things. You’ve got really nice boobs, actually. Tell him I said he’s lucky.”

“You’re too much. But I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“As soon as you guys get home, I’ll be on my way,” Riley promises. “And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. Right away, hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Chin up, okay? He’s got this. He’s a tough shit. He’ll be alright.”

“I know he will,” Esme says confidently, then blows her step sister a kiss in farewell before killing the video feed.

****

She pokes her head into the room when she returns, smiling when she finds him awake and sitting up in bed; the angle of the mattress slowly increasing with each hour, giving his back used to being in different positions and not allowing the muscles to settle and stiffen.

“Hey,” she greets. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting you. Just taking me forever; hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m here, you might as well just tell me what you want to say.”

“I’m gonna send it anyway…” a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “...I’m almost done. Be patient.”

“That’s more your thing; being patient.”

“You’ve been plenty patient the last couple of days. There...all done...sent.”

Her phone vibrates within the pocket of her hoodie, and she pulls it out to check the message; smiling at the simple -yet honest and heartfelt- words. “You’re cute,” she gushes. “I’m going to send you one back.” She steps out into the hall; composing her own text. Just a short and sweet: I love you too. Accompanied by a selfie of her puckering her lips for a kiss. “Well…” she pokes her head back into the room. “...did you get it?”

“Yep.” A broad smile spreads across his face. “Want me to send something back? A dick pic?”

“Not when there’s a tube in it, I don’t. I do have a separate file for them though; where I put all the dick pics you send me when you’re away from home.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You’re the one who sends them! Where’s Andy?”

“He went downstairs to get something to eat. I told him I’d be fine by myself.”

“Pretty awesome, huh? That he can all this way to see you?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s a good guy; I’m glad I sucked it up and talked to him that day at the school. Why are you poking your head in like that? Why don’t you just come in?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Are you naked?”

“You wish.”

“Is it a blowjob?”

Esme frowns. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot. I probably couldn’t get it up anyway. Not with a tube sticking out of it and all the meds I’m on. What’s the surprise? Want me to close my eyes? Will it make it better?”

“This is going to be an awesome surprise no matter what. But go ahead.”

“You ARE naked, aren’t you. Baby, as much I appreciate your willingness and your effort to make me feel better at all costs, that part of me is not gonna work right now.”

“I am definitely NOT naked. It’s going to be a while before you get to see me with no clothes on. You are nowhere close to being ready for that.”

“You’re underestimating me.”

“That’s one thing I never do, trust me. You want the surprise or not? I promise you, this is an amazing one.”

“Even better than when the kids make me breakfast in bed and cupcakes for my birthday?”

“Even better,” she says, and then waits for him to close his eyes; carrying Addie into the room. “Don’t open them until I tell you to. I brought you a little visitor.”

“One of those hospital therapy dogs? Like a corgi or some shit?”

“Way better and way cuter.”

“I don’t know, wife. Those are pretty damn cute.”

“Trust me, this is much better and will cheer you up a hundred times more than any dog ever could.” She stands on the right side of the bed; easier to transfer Addie onto his good arm. And she removes the receiving blanket draped over her daughter as she leans over the railing; a smile already curving the baby’s lips and her tiny hands reaching for her father. “No sudden movements, alright? You don’t want to accidentally hurt the surprise. Open your eyes.”

He does as he’s told. A brief moment of confusion etched on his face as he looks down at the baby in his wife’s arms, then up at her. “Are you serious?”

“Andy brought her. She’s been missing you just as much as you’ve been missing her. Look at her; she’s already smiling at you. She’s so happy to see you. There’s no one she loves the way she loves her daddy. Wait until you see her little outfit.”

“I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow. That Ovi was bringing her.” His eyes narrow. “How long was I asleep??”

“There was a change of plans; a little something Andy and Ovi came up with together. Here…” she gently lays Addie along his left forearm; settling the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow. “...look at her little shirt? Isn’t it perfect? Daddy’s little peanut. Andy made it for her.”

“It is perfect. SHE’S perfect.”

“Look at her looking at you...look at that smile..all she sees is her daddy. Not what happened to him. Feels good, right? To have her here? To have her in your arms like this?”

“Yeah…” emotion chokes at him, and he leans down to press a kiss to Addie’s forehead, lightly chuckling when those tiny hands grab at his hair and his nose. “...feels amazing, actually.”

Esme leans into him, draping an arm across his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. She definitely missed you.”

“I missed her,” he says, and kisses the tip of Addie’s nose. “Daddy missed you so much, baby girl. So much.” The tears come now; a mixture of relief and happiness combined with the anger and frustration at being laid up and unable to perform even the simplest tasks for himself.

“Hey…” Esme places a kiss to his temple and rubs and squeezes his shoulder. “...it’s okay. All uphill from here, remember? You’re doing amazing; don’t doubt that. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I didn’t think I’d get this chance again; to see her, hold her. I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t.”

“Well you’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake. If there’s anyone on this earth that can survive THAT and do this well, it’s you. I know how much you love proving people wrong. And you’re doing that. I also know how much you want to get out of Dhaka. I know that’s your main driving force for trying as hard as you are.”

“I just want to go home. Even if it is to a hospital there. I just want to be home.”

“Soon,” she promises. “And if you keep doing as well as you are, it will be even sooner than any of us thought. I don’t want you to hurt yourself though, okay? I know sometimes you try to do to much, too soon. And I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want you busting your ass to the point it sets you back. I know you don’t want that either.”

“I just want to feel my legs. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t. It freaks me out. I wake up and I forget it’s only temporary and I fucking lose it. You know that’s one of the worst things possible in my eyes; not being able to do things, not being able to have the life I had.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that. In a couple days, you’ll get the feeling back. This too shall pass. It won’t be a while until you’re back to being the old you, but you WILL get there. I promise. And you can’t tell me this won’t help. Having Addie here. That it won’t lift your spirits a bit.”

“She already has. She’s lifted them a lot, actually. I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again. See you, see her.”

“Well, you DID get to do it. We’re here. We’re BOTH here.” She moves her hand to the nape of his neck, massaging gently. “Are you okay with her? She seems pretty happy where she is; I don’t think she’s going to want you to put her down anytime soon.”

“I’m good. I’m not giving her up. They’d have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands. She’s getting bigger, huh?”

“I thought the same thing when I first saw her. Feels like we’ve been away from her for a lot longer than we have. She’s still super tiny though.”

“She is. Just a wee little thing. Like her momma,” he presses another kiss to Addie’s brow. “Beautiful like your momma too.”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, daddy is extremely biased when it comes to mommy,” Esme addresses the infant. “He always has been.”

“It’s not being biased when it’s the truth. It still feels weird; how light she is. Even Tanner with all his issues was never this small. She’s definitely all you. Now I’ll have two people small enough to pick up and put in my pocket.”

She combs her fingers through his hair and pecks his cheek. “You sure have your cute moments.”

“You seem to bring that side of me out.”

“Well it’s a very nice side. But I like all your sides, so…”

Smiling, he tips his head up towards her, and she leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“I know you didn’t agree with it,” she says, when he turns his attention back to Addie. “Her coming here.”

She notices the wince that briefly takes hold of his face; the simple action of using his right hand to tug the baby’s socks back up causing pain in the injured shoulder. 

“I was just worried. About her being here if things went to shit again. I know we think they’re all gone; Asif’s people. But I didn’t want to take that chance. Especially with her.”

“There hasn’t been any movement. Not even a whisper of trouble. And you know Anil; he’s got all kinds of ears to the ground. I think it’s really over this time. I think we’re finally going to be able to put this place behind us. It’s time; to leave Dhaka behind.”

“I definitely don’t plan on coming back for a visit, that’s for sure. So if you have Dhaka on that ‘places like you’d like to vacation’ list, you can go ahead and erase it right now.”

“I have had enough of Dhaka to last me a lifetime, believe me. You know, you have this real habit of choosing extremely dramatic and painful ways to get out of taking me anywhere.”

Tyler grins. “Neither of the times I bailed on you were intentional, I swear.”

“I think we should stop planning ahead when it comes to going away. It’s like we jinx it somehow; talking about it too soon. How about next time, we just decide on the spur of the moment to go somewhere? That way we shock the universe with our spontaneity and it doesn’t have time to recover until we’re BACK from our trip.”

“Sounds good to me. And we’re going to need one; a trip. When all this is over. I know it’s going to be a while, but we are definitely going to need a vacation.”

“Well tell your pocketbook to expect Bora Bora or The Maldives. I’m getting my suite on the water.”

“I will get you whatever you want, baby. Whatever your little heart desires. You just tell me what it is and I’ll do it. I’ll get it for you.”

“You healthy and back on your feet. That’s all I want.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I know you are,” she kisses his temple. “And you’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you, Tyler. So fucking proud of you.”

“You’re going to make me cry. Again.”

“I can’t help that you’re so beautiful when you cry. And it would be happy tears, right?”

“Very happy tears.” He lays his palm on Addie’s stomach, all of her fingers wrapping around one of his. “She’s tiny, but she’s strong. Has a hell of a grip.”

“She’s like her daddy. Tough as nails.”

“I don’t know,” he smiles up at her. “I think her momma has me beat in the toughness department.”

“I think…” she places a kiss to his brow, then the bridge of his nose. “...you totally underestimate yourself. He does, doesn’t he, Addie? Underestimate himself. Tell daddy he’s tough as hell and the strongest, bravest person you know. Tell him how the sun shines out of his ass and he poops glitter and pisses rainbows. That’s how you look at him, might as well tell him too. Because his ego isn’t quite big enough, yet.”

He smirks. “My ego took a hell of a beating.”

“Well tell your ego to shut the fuck up,” she affectionately tousles his hair. “There was nothing you could have done, Tyler. You didn’t know this going to happen; that things were going to go this bad. There was nothing to suggest that he who shall not be mentioned was capable of something like that.”

“We both knew he was sketchy as fuck.”

“Being sketchy and being psychotic are two totally different things. You did everything right; you got Neysa and Aarev out, you went back to get him out. There’s no way you could have known what he was going to do.”

“Should have listened to Koen and left his ass there.”

“Koen said that?”

He nods.

“You remember that? Him saying that?”

“I can remember things that happened BEFORE it all went down. Things that I said, that other people said. I can remember getting Neysa and Aarev out and going back in to get N...him. But after that, it’s pretty muddled.”

“But you do remember things?”

“I THINK I’m remembering them. I THINK it’s things that happened. I’m not sure though; if they’re real or my brain is just making shit up. I DO remember...vividly...him shooting me in the back. Everything else? I don’t know what’s real and what I’m imagining. And honestly, babe? I don’t think I want to remember.”

“But you might. And that could get pretty scary for you; things coming back to you.”

“I know.”

“Once we’re home, we’ll get you some help okay? Some therapy. For the mental stuff.”

“Alright.”

“I know you hate that side; seeing therapists and talking to strangers and having to take meds. But you know what I hate? Seeing your brain torturing you like it does. I hate that you have to go to war every damn day with your own mind. I just want you to be okay. You know that, right?”

“I do know that. I’ve never doubted that. Not once in the last seven years.”

“Even the toughest need help, sometimes. And I’ll get you that help. I promise. I’ve got you. Always. You’re my ride or die, remember?”

“Yeah…” he chuckles. “...you’re mine too.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him. “Inside AND out. You’re already on your way. And I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, right beside you, every step of the way.”

“What about after? When I AM better? You still going to stick around? The whole pain meds thing?”

“We talked about that. You know where I stand; about you needing to deal with that. That’s a deal breaker, Tyler. Because I can’t live like that. And I won’t let our kids live like that either. I love you. More than you could possibly ever comprehend. But that? I can’t do THAT.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to. I don’t want to lose you. Or my kids. Whatever I need to do...whatever YOU need me to do...I’ll do it. No hesitations. Whatever it is.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Let’s concentrate on what we’re going through right now. One thing at a time. I don’t want you to worry about anything else, alright?”

He nods. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

“I love you,” she says, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips. “We’re going to get through this. Our track record for getting through tough shit is at one hundred percent. I want to keep it that way.”

“Yeah…” he closes his eyes as she rests her forehead against his. “...so do I.”


	91. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MENTIONS (SMALL) OF PTSD, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, SUICIDE ATTEMPT
> 
> Massive thanks and love to @melmac who puts up with all the rambling about this story, my frequent bouts of self loathing and questioning my abilities, and just me being the weird but hilarious emotional support Canadian <3 <3 <3

Tyler drifts off with Addie on his chest. Lulled to sleep by the feathery weight of her tiny body; the warmth that radiates from it and how it slowly and rhythmically rises and falls against him. Relaxed by the sound of each soft breath and the occasional murmur and sigh, the way those impossibly small hands tightly fist the fabric of his hospital gown and the familiar scent that clings to her clothes. It had felt good to inject some sense of normalcy into the uncertainty of his current situation. Able to cuddle her and shower her with kisses and run his fingers through her hair; marvelling at how fast it’s growing and how thick and even darker it’s becoming. The withdrawal induced trembling in his hands has begun to dissipate, giving him the opportunity to feed her a bottle and even master changing her diaper while lying on one thigh and using only his left hand. And her mere presence has lessened the profound homesickness and how desperately he misses his other children; being able to see her smile and hear her babbling and having all those tiny fingers curl around one of his. It had lifted his spirits and ease some of fears and worries surrounding the safety and security of his family; knowing and seeing with his two eyes that she’s alive and thriving despite all of the threats and the close call in Anil’s house. Every second spent with her only fuelling his desire to get home; feeding that determination to get his feet back under him, figuratively AND literally. 

He hates the feeling of helplessness; being dependent on others and constantly worrying that he’s a burden. Being stripped of the ability to even do the simplest of things for yourself is a blow to the ego; mundane tasks like feeding yourself and brushing your teeth and being able to get to the bathroom on your own. Things that people often overlook and take for granted; washing your own hair and holding a knife and fork and being able to actually get out of bed and not be relegated to staring at the same four walls for hours on end. He can’t watch tv; even the simplest and stupidest of story lines too difficult for his brain to comprehend. Reading a book is out of the question when you can’t remember what happened only a page ago. Even conversations are difficult to maintain and follow; forgetting things easily, asking the same questions over and over again, then becoming frustrated and lashing out when he can’t retain the information. He often feels as if he’s a prisoner in his own body; trapped in bed in the same damn position, unable to move because of an IV and med line inserted into his chest and his right leg held captive by a metal ‘cage’. 

Nothing is worse than not being able to feel your legs; rendered immobile and harboring the fear that a temporary issue will turn out to be a permanent one. The panic sets in every time he wakes up and CAN’T feel anything from the waist down; moments before the disorientation and confusion lift and he can’t recall where he is, how he got there, or the dozens of times he’s been told about his injuries. It is near crippling; that terror before full comprehension when he realizes he can’t feel his legs; not even the smallest of movements even though his brain is screaming at them to budge. And it’s frustrating; not being in full control of even the simplest of things; when and how long he sleeps, what he can eat, how much meds are being pumped into his system. He’s used to being a man of action; unable to sit still for more a few minutes at a time. 

The thought of no longer being ‘that guy’ haunts him; that fear and worry -that he won’t be able to return to the life he remembered and enjoy it to the fullest- making him feel physically ill. Not the job side of things; he’d be more than happy to spend the rest of his time in the game running things behind the scenes and no longer getting his hands dirty. But it’s the OTHER side. The dad that is hands on and ‘stands up’. Playing and rough housing with his kids; taking them swimming and surfing and hiking in the woods and on camping and fishing trips. He wants to still be able to coach their soccer and lacrosse games and help Millie with her martial arts sparring. And one day, far down the road, he wants to be able to walk both her and Addie down the aisle; tears in his eyes as he gives them away to their future husbands and watches them start their new lives. It’s the scariest thing of all; not being even half the man he used to be. He can live with the mental health issues and the chronic pain; he’s been functioning that way for years. But not being able to be an active participant in his children’s lives? It’s a heartbreaking thing to consider.

But having Addie with him has helped to squash some of that fear. At least temporarily. Her presence serving as the motivation he needs to fight harder than he’s ever fought before. He has people relying on him. Counting on him to be both provider and protector, and he refuses to let them down. He’s done it too many times before; made promises he never kept, said things and then done the complete opposite. This time he needs to make permanent changes; no longer improving things and keeping them that way for a couple of years and then falling back into hold habits and expecting his wife to stick around. He’s taken advantage of that more than once; her willingness to stay and work on things despite threatening to walk away. He doesn’t want to be that guy any more; the one that takes someone’s love, trust, and faith in him and uses it against them. He’s not proud of it; knowing exactly what her fears and worries are and then using them to get his own way. But he’s never done it maliciously; never with the intent to control her or manipulate or hurt her. It had been the last ditch efforts of a desperate man; afraid of losing the love of his life and having his family torn apart, yet unsure of how to exactly change and fix himself.

And then there’s the irrational side of him; the dark and torturous part of his brain that likes to torment him. Telling him that this will be the deal clincher. Not his weakness for booze and prescription painkillers and his recurring slides back into dependency, but the absolute mess his body is in. That IF he can never use his legs again and he’s reduced to being half the man he was -and she fell in love with- that she’ll leave. Not because she doesn’t love him; he doesn’t question or doubt that and never has. But it will be too much on her already overflowing plate; a woman that has to not only take care of five little ones and carry a sixth, but would have to be his caretaker as well. He wouldn’t be able to help her out in the same way he does now; his physical challenges preventing him from being the husband and father that he was before. His mind screams at him that he’d be a burden; that one day she’d look at him and he wouldn’t see love and adoration in her eyes, but pity. And he simply couldn’t handle that; her looking at him as if he’s completely broken and damaged. 

Since the weaning off of the sedation had begun, the dreams have returned. Not quite nightmares, but only a few shades shy. As his brain becomes more lucid and the haziness and confusion start to lift, he’s left with jumbled pieces of a very vivid puzzle; sights and sound even smells from inside the storage facility. In the initial wakeful moments, he couldn’t remember anything past taking a shot in the back. The way the sound echoed through the locker and the bullet slammed into him; the initial shock of his body being pitched forward and his legs collapsing under him and then hitting the floor. Nothing after that. No recollection of how he’d come to have a broken nose and lines of stitches over and under his right eye and a badly busted femur. Things are clearer now; coming more into focus as the powerful meds make their way out of his system. Little snippets of events; Nathan kneeling on his back; the feel of sharp bone being pressed into the fresh bullet wound and the brief loss of feeling in his legs. Fingers being shoved into the hole; as deep as possible. The glint of a knife blade and that initial pinch of the tip pressed against his skin; the agony...the burning...of it being dragged -bone deep- from under his eye to his temple. A cell phone; recording every second of his time in that locker. Every indignity, every torturous moment. Nathan fully intending to send Esme the footage; a little ‘entertainment’ before she met her own demise. 

There isn’t much beyond that. At least not images he fully trusts. A failed escape attempt, vile and horrific threats specifically targeting his wife and daughters, a pair of dirty combat boots, a gunshot. He isn’t sure what’s legit; if the snapshots he’s seeing are real or if they’re nothing more than events made up by a weary and troubled mind. But he can smell it; the putrid, nauseating mixture of old sweat, urine, and feces that had clung to that dirty mattress. And the taste; the salt of his own perspiration and that metallic tinge of blood.

It’s a loud bang in the hallway that startles him awake. The usual confusion and disorientation replaced by hyper-vigilance; not fully aware of his surroundings, but assessing the presence of possible threat, and somehow knowing that he has people to protect. His hand immediately goes to his hip; reaching for a gun nestled inside its holster. Instead his fingers find nothing but cool, crisp sheets and smooth, cold metal of the ‘cage’ that encases his thigh. Anxiety begins to take hold now; not of potential danger lurking beyond the closed door but of his surroundings. The stark white walls and the distinct smell of antiseptic and clean solution. The IV pole and patient monitor parked next to the bed; mattress impossibly firm against and below him and metal railings keeping him safely confined. The pinch and sting in the left side of his chest; discomfort from both the told holding down the tubing and the needle of the central line itself. 

A hospital. 

I’m in a fucking hospital. 

The realization brings both panic and terror. Both lungs and throat constrict; chest tightening painfully as sweat beads across his forehead and gathers at his temples and the nape of his neck. There’s no one to fight so his brain chooses flight; attempting to kick off the blankets in hopes of escaping. Only nothing happens; not a wriggle in his toes or a twitch in the soles of his feet or even the simple flex of a calf or thigh muscle. Legs numb and lifeless yet somehow feeling impossibly heavy at the same time. And useless. Completely fucking useless. And the nauseous and light-headedness hit; unable to remember any of the dozens of times he’d been told about his legs. He questions what’s happening. If it’s temporary or permanent. Trying to rack his brain for some sort of explanation but finding nothing but muddled thoughts and worst fears and sheer dread. Remembering those threats made against his family; torturous, inhumane things that would be done to them before their deaths. 

Are they? Dead? Is he the only one in his entire family that managed to survive? Is someone going to come in and deliver the news? A grim faced Nik or Anil? Maybe a sorrowful Koen and a frazzled Rata? Who would get the short straw and be relegated to telling him the cold, hard truth; that everyone he loves...everyone who had loved HIM...is gone. The tears come; bitter and hot. Loud, angry and sorrowful sobs of devastation. The kind of grief that robs you of your sanity and rocks you to your very soul. 

It’s Addie that snaps him out of it. Initially startled by the jolt he’d given upon waking and then further troubled by the violent trembling of his body and the severity of his sobs. Her shrill cries managing to pierce through the panic; helping to bring him clarity and a sense of balance. As quick as it had come on, it dissipates. Hearing her wails and feeling her body wriggling against him successfully grounding him. And he briefly closes his eyes; sucking air through aching lungs and releasing it slowly and shakily. Waiting until the tremors stop and the tears cease to fall before looking down at his daughter.

“It’s okay,” he assures her, and uses both hands to move her further up his chest; wincing at the pain that takes hold in his right shoulder. And he quickly checks her body; those tiny arms and legs, terrified that he’ll find scratches or bruises on her. Worried that in the midst of his panic and confusion, he had hurt her; tightening his grip enough to cause her both pain and fear. “I’m sorry, little peanut. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, then places a hand on the back of her head and rests his nose against his brow. “I’m so sorry. Daddy is so fucking sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Esme asks, voice sleepy as she raises her head from the arm of the small pullout. She’d been the first to sleep; one moment talking to him as he fed Addie, then out like a light the next. Succumbing to the exhaustion brought on by her own stress and worry. “What’s wrong with Addie? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I think so. I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Do what?” She pushes her hands through hair; securing it in a ponytail with the elastic tie around her wrist. “What happened?”

“I scared her. By accident. I didn’t mean it.” 

Fuck. The tears come again; a mixture of guilt, frustration, and anger. So much animosity and disgust. At Nathan for causing as much damage as he did; rendering his body utterly useless and turning his own brain against him. At himself for turning his back on the situation; ignoring all the warning signs and red flags and Koen’s insistence at leaving the former Marine behind. Had he NOT taken the phone call and allowed himself to be distracted, he never would have taken his eyes off of things and Nathan wouldn’t have been able to get the upper hand. He would have been able to outsmart AND overpower; his skills and sheer strength and his years on the job far exceeding those of the younger man. HAD he kept his head in the game, he wouldn’t be where he is now; body torn to shit, no feeling in his legs, pissing out of tube, unable to even feed himself.

And THAT makes him even angrier. For even thinking that way about her. The one person that has stood by him through thick and thin over the course of the last seven years. Who’d exchanged her old life for a new one with him; never returning home after Dhaka and sticking by his side during his hospital stay and through the months of gruelling and painful rehab. Who’d never abandoned him during his weaker moments; the times he slipped back into old habits and relied on booze and pain meds to cope with his issues. Who had saved his life and given him a second chance; giving him five beautiful children and a life that he never thought was possible. 

She climbs off the couch, shoving her feet into a pair of flip flops and then journeying towards him. “What’s going?

“It just happened. I didn’t mean it.” It sounds annoying even to his own ears; the almost whiny, pitiful tone to his voice. 

“Hey...stop…” She runs a hand through his hair and presses a kiss to his cheek. Her voice never changes, always gentle and patient. Loving. And while he appreciates it, he also loathes that hint of condescension; that tiny nuance in her tone -or so he thinks- that sneaks through. The one that says she sees him as weak and pathetic. That he needs to be coddled and babied. “You don’t need to get upset. I’m sure she’s fine. I don’t know what happened, but…”

“No. You DON’T now.”

“Just calm down, okay? You’re drenched in sweat and you’re shaking and you’re pale. You just need to…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he snarls.

“Like what? How am I talking to you? I’m worried about you. I’m not…”

“Like THAT. That fucking tone. Don’t do it. Don’t use that fucking tone with me.”

“I don’t have a tone, Tyler. I’m just…”

“I know you want to help, but talking to me like that...treating me like THIS...it’s not helping. AT all.”

“Okay, I don't know what happened or why you’re reading into everything I’m saying or why you’re so worked up and taking it out on me, but…”

“If you never called, this wouldn’t have happened.”

She blinks. “What?”

“If you hadn't called while I was there, I wouldn’t have turned my back on him. I would have had my head in the game and I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be home. With my kids.”

She sighs heavily, shoulders and jaw tensing. “You’re blaming me for this?”

“I turned my back on him. To talk to you. If I never did that…”

“I didn’t know you were with him. I didn’t know how far into things you were. I was hoping that I’d get a hold of you before you found him. I was trying to help.”

“Thanks for that,” he scoffs. “Look what your help did. Look where I am. Look at how fucked up things. Look at ME. I can’t even feel my fucking legs. I’m stuck here; in this goddamn bed. In Dhaka. My kids are thousands of miles away! That’s how much you helped.”

He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. The impact his words have on her is immediate; the way she recoils backwards as if physically struck, how she scrapes her top teeth over her bottom lip, the tears that fill her eyes. It isn’t the first time he’s hurt her. And he knows it won’t be the last. It’s who he is; the guy that destroys everything around him and either pushes away the people that love him, or abandons them altogether. 

“You think this is my fault? You think I caused this? That I’m the reason this happened to you? Is that what you honestly think?”

“If I hadn’t answered, he wouldn’t have gotten the upper hand. If I’d been focused and…”

“You ARE blaming me. You really are, aren’t you.”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying…”

“Oh, I know what you’re saying. And what you’re saying IS blame. You think it’s my fault that you’re here; messed up and laying in a hospital bed. I’m the one to blame for all of this.”

“If you hadn’t called…”

“You know what? Fuck you, Tyler. I know this is a shitty fucking time right now. I know you’re in pain and you’re scared and you’re angry and you’re worried. I get it. I do. Because I’m the one that’s here with you. I’m the one that sees what you’re going through. But I’m going through this too! Not just you. I’m the one that has to watch the person I love for more than anything in the world go through all of this bullshit. I’m thousands of miles away from my kids, too. You think I want to be there? You think I want you to suffer like this? You think this is a fucking picnic for me? Fuck you for blaming me. For even thinking that about me.”

“And you tell me to calm down?”

Her eyes narrow. “Give me the baby.”

“She’s fine. She’s starting to calm. She’s…”

“I said give her to me!” Esme snaps, and then scoops Addie from his arms. The baby’s cries lessening as both face and tiny hands begin their search for the breast; pulling and nuzzling at her shirt. “Okay little miss…” her voice is gentler and quieter, and she presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead as her fingers tend to the buttons on her shirt. “Be patient, my love. It’s coming, I promise. I’m sorry it’s not instantaneous.”

“She shouldn’t be hungry,” Tyler comments. “I just fed her a couple of hours ago.”

“She’s not after a regular feed. She’s after a comfort feed. It’s what she does when she gets worked up over something. It’s her new thing. I think I know what I’m doing; I’m her mother.”

“See, I didn’t realize that. That you are. I thought she just magically showed up on the doorstep one day.”

Esme’s eyes narrow. “Don’t be a dick.” 

She drops heavily onto the couch and lays Addie against her chest; the infant immediately latching on, cries turning into tiny whimpers and soft sniffles, then content murmurs. He watches them out of the corner of his eye. Mother and daughter with their matching colour and texture of hair and the exact same profiles; those cute little noses with the freckles across the bridge, the smooth curve to their chins, the long, dark eyelashes. Noticing the way the fingers of one of Addie’s hands curl around Esme’s necklace, the others pulling and twisting at the edges of her shirt. And how gentle and loving his wife is; a palm running over their baby girl’s hair as she talks to her about all the pretty bows and clips she’s going to be able to wear soon, a soft smile curving her lips. 

It’s a beautiful smile.

SHE’S beautiful.

*****

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she keeps her tone quiet and soothing, eyes never leaving the baby. “Sometimes sorry isn’t enough.”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“You’re not usually the type that says things he doesn’t mean. You’ve never been that way. You always say what you mean.”

“Not that time. I don’t blame you. I know it’s not your fault.”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not. You said it. And it hurt. It hurt a hell of a lot.”

“And I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. I never meant to say it. You’re right; I am scared and worried and angry and I do miss my kids. And I snapped and I lashed out and you just happened to be the person here when I did.”

“Funny how I always seem to be the one that is here when you do. Guess I’m your favorite target to take your shit out on.”

“You know that’s not true. You know I never mean it; the shit I say when I lose it.”

“Well it still hurt. And you can live with that for a while. You don’t think I hate this? That we’re stuck here? That you’re laid up like this? That this all happened in the first place? You don’t think I’d rather be home? With you and the kids? I don’t want ANY of this. I don’t want you pain, I don’t want you going through months of therapy. That’s the last thing I want.”

“I know.”

“I already blame myself. I don’t need you doing it too.”

Tyler frowns. “Why would you blame yourself? Why…?”

“I didn’t know that first letter...the one supposedly from the Corps...was a fake. And I should have been able to tell when I looked; I should've known it wasn’t real. And I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. There was no way you could have known that it was all bullshit.”

“I feel like I should have known. That I should have been able to look at it and tell it was fake. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it. Because if I had, I wouldn’t have sent you out there.”

“You didn’t send me anywhere. I went out there willingly. You had nothing to do with that. And I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t even know why I said the shit I did. Because it’s not what I think OR how I feel.”

“It still hurt.”

“I fucked up. And I’m sorry. I hate myself for saying it. For letting all this get to me; for taking it out on you. I would never hurt you. Intentionally. You know that, right? Please tell me you know that.”

“I do. I DO know that. I know that you’re not thinking right. That all the meds and the stress and the worry are messing you up and that your brain does it’s own thing when it’s going through shit like this. But you still hurt me Tyler. Whether you meant to or not.”

“I know I did. And I’ll apologize a million times if I have to. I love you; you know I do.”

“I love you too. But right now? Right now I don’t like you very much. And I have that right. To be pissed with you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You do.”

“I don’t even know what caused all of this; what happened with Addie. Why did she wake up crying like that? What…?”

“Things are starting to come back. About that day. In the storage place. Before I could only remember up to a certain point. But now it’s all coming to me. It’s all mixed up and out of order, but IS coming back. Just like you said it would.”

Sighing heavily, she glances down at Addie and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“It’s going to get ugly. Really ugly. And I don’t want it going too far. I don’t want there to be a third time; where I put a gun in my mouth. Because that’ll be the time where I DO go through with it. And that’s not what I want. I don’t want to leave you and the kids. That’s the last thing I want.”

“What do you want me to do? IS there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I really don’t. But I know I need help. Before it goes too far.”

“I can talk to Julie. She might have ideas or know someone can reach out to. We’re in a hospital. There has to be people here you can talk to.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. I talk to you.”

“You need someone other than me. Someone who does this sort of thing. A professional. “

He scowls. “I don’t want to talk to a fucking shrink.”

“Well you need one. You need someone that knows about PTSD and depression and knows ways to help you. I can only do so much, Tyler. And I’m tired. I love you. With everything I am and everything I have. But I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. And I’ve got a baby inside of me that I’m trying to keep alive and Addie’s here, but I’ve got four little kids thousands of miles away that I miss and I’m worried about. I don’t have much more to give.”

He sighs heavily, eyes downcast as his fingers fidget with loose strands of threads on the bottom of his hospital gown. 

“Do you want me to go home?” Esme asks. “To the kids?”

“That’s the last thing I want. You leaving. And maybe that makes me selfish as fuck, I dunno. Maybe I’m an asshole for keeping you from them and making you feel obligated to be here.”

“I don’t stay because I feel obligated. I stay because I love you. The same reason I stayed seven years ago. Only a billion times more intense.” 

He nods slowly, considering her words.

“I’ve never felt obligated. I’ve never felt guilted. Not seven years ago, not now, not anytime between. I’m here because I love you and I don’t want you to be alone. And you would do the exact same thing for me. I know you would. So don’t ever question why I stay. Why I stick it out through the things I do. You should already know the answer.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And I know it’s probably better if you DID...for you and the kids...but I don’t want you to.”

“Then I’ll stay. We know they’re safe and we know they’re being taken care of. And if things keep going the way they are now, you’ll be getting sent home soon. And that’ll make everything easier on all of us. But right now we need to concentrate on what’s going on here. You said you remembered things. Is that what happened? With Addie?”

He nods. 

“More than what you remembered before?”

“There’s a few new things. It was a dream. I think. Or maybe I was awake and I was just reliving it in my head. I honestly don’t know. But I was back there. With him. And Addie was sleeping on me and there was a loud noise and I freaked out; thought it was a threat and that I had to protect you and her. And then things started clearing up and I realized where I was and I just lost it. I didn’t even remember her being with me. I thought you were dead. I thought ALL of you were dead.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m sorry you’re going through this. That your brain is doing this to you.”

“I don’t know if I scared her or the noise in the hall did, but she was crying and it snapped me out of. And if it WAS me? I didn’t mean to do it. I’d never hurt her.”

“I know you wouldn’t. And so does she. Look at her; she’s already looking for you and listening to your voice.”

He glances over, a smile tugging the corners of the mouth when he finds Addie intently watching him out of the corner of her eye. One of her hands abandoning their tugging of her mother’s necklace in favour of reaching for him; head turning completely towards him, a smile of her own spreading from ear to ear.

“That was definitely a comfort feed, wasn’t it little miss?” Esme pulls her shirt closed across her body and stands up. “You want to go back and see daddy, don’t you. Traitor.”

“I don’t want her to be scared of me. I don’t…”

“She’s not scared of you in the slightest,” Esme assures him, and returns the baby to his chest. “Even IF you did startle her, she’s obviously forgiven you. You’re her daddy. How could she not? She knows you didn’t mean it.”

“I would never...ever...hurt her. Any of them.”

“I know.” She pushes a hand through his hair and drops a kiss on the top of his head. “Are you okay? You’re still shaking a bit. Want me to see if they’ll give you something lightweight? Calm your nerves but not knock you out?”

“I don’t want to take any more meds. I’m already taking enough.”

“They’re all things you need. Adding something to keep you calm or to balance your moods out won’t hurt.”

“I don’t want anything else. Enough. I don’t want anymore shit put in me. I just want to get the fuck out here.”

“And you will. I know it seems like it’s never going to happen, but look how far you’ve come in just a week. No more sedation after tonight, no more nerve blocks. Once you feel your legs again, you can even start therapy. It won’t be much at first, but it’ll be something, right?”

“Honestly, I just want to be able to take a leak. In a toilet.”

“See! You have that to look forward to, too. After you get the feeling back in your legs, things will start going back to normal.”

“I just want to go home.” He feels the sting of tears again; that loneliness that eats at him whenever he thinks of those four remaining little ones anxiously awaiting his return. “Just get the fuck out of Dhaka and never think of it again.”

It’s the worst it’s ever been; the homesickness. Every time he’s away he feels it; those little pangs that come with missing the ones you love but knowing you’ll be reunited with them very soon. The hurt is profound; the uncertainty of when he'll actually be able to see them again. Hold them in his arms and kiss them and hear their voices and their giggles. He hasn’t even been able to bring himself to contact them; knowing he’d never be able to keep his emotions in check during a video chat or telephone call. And they keep asking; wondering when he’s going to feel well enough to see them and talk to them. Knowing full well that he’d never just up and abandon them. 

“Soon,” Esme assures him, as she perches on the edge of the bed and drapes an arm across his shoulders. “I promise it’ll be soon. You’re doing so well. A week ago, I was showing up here and I didn’t know if you’d make it out of surgery, not alone get up to a ward. And I’m proud of you. You never give up. And thanks for totally proving that neurologist wrong. The one who said not to expect much from you. I could have killed that guy.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted to, believe me. He doesn’t know you. Not like I do. I knew you were going to fight like hell to get back to us. Feels good, right? Shoving it in his face.”

He manages a small grin. “Feels damn good, actually.”

“I’ll never complain about how stubborn you are ever again. Because it is certainly paying off. See…” she runs her fingers through Addie’s hair. “....she DOES have your smile. Eye crinkles and everything. They all have it.”

“Maybe. But she looks just like her momma though. Which is a good thing. A very good thing.”

“I figured eventually one would. I wonder what number six is going to look like.”

“We need to find out more about number six. Like when number six is actually supposed to arrive. I feel like that’s something we should probably know.”

“Three days and we find out. Are you excited? Or after the first five are you just so over the process that you don’t give a shit anymore?”

“How can I not be excited? We made a human being together. That’s pretty awesome.”

“And we’ve somehow managed to do it SIX times.”

“Those five times we had sex were great,” he teases. 

“Day we made the twins must have been extra great. Two in one shot! Extra great or you were extra lucky. I’m going with the latter; I’m pretty sure it happened on your birthday.”

“If that WAS when it happened, it was extra great. By the way, I heard what you said the other day. About thinking it’s more than one. You really do? Think that?”

“I don’t know. Something feels...different.”

“Different bad or…?”

“Not bad. Just different. And not just because this…” she lays a hand on either side of her ever growing bump. “...is this big already. I just feel different. I can’t explain it. I just know how I feel.”

“But it’s not bad, right? Like your body’s not telling you there’s something wrong or…?”

“There’s nothing wrong. It’s just different. I don’t feel like I did when I was having Millie or Declan or Addie. I sort of feel like I did when I was having the twins but not quite.”

“What if it’s more than two?”

“You’re good, but you’re not THAT good. Our track record is one or two. I don’t think we’re destined for three. Or four.”

“Four? What the fuck?”

“That happens? I will be the first to admit you have super sperm.”

“That better not happen or I’ll cut my own balls off.”

“I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about,” she ruffles his hair. “I think your balls are safe. You know what else I was thinking?”

“I’m almost scared to ask.”

“A water birth.” 

He arches both brows.

“What’s that look for?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“We’ve talked about it before. It’s been an option a couple of times.”

“Yeah, but that’s all it’s been. An option.”

She grins. “It freaks you out, doesn’t it.”

“Just a bit.”

“If I can give birth to Declan naturally on my own living room floor, I think I can give birth in the water.”

“I know you can handle it. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“You managed to deliver your son without passing out and you never even came close to fainting with Addie.”

“I HAD to stay conscious for Declan or else you were doing all the work yourself and you were only in labour with Addie for half an hour. I didn’t have time to get freaked out.”

“You were the easiest,” Esme addresses the baby. “Like ten minutes of pushing and that was it. Your sister was the worst. Thirty six hours. From start to finish. I said never again.”

“Mommy lied.”

“Daddy talks a good game and he convinced her to try for one more. Only we ended up with two.”

“And then daddy said no more and mommy talked him into going for number four. Because your mom has powers. And she uses them to get what she wants.”

“Don’t listen to him, Addie. He’s very persuasive. It was all him. I know he looks all tough and mean, but he’s a sweet talker. Especially when he’s in the right mood.”

He frowns and cups his hands over Addie’s ears. “That’s dirty talk, not sweet talk. Don’t teach her those things.”

“You know very well that you can be a sweet talker. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us. You don’t have a reputation to uphold when it’s just the three of us.”

He removes his hands from Addie’s ears. “With you? Your mom totally seduced me.”

“You lie!” Esme laughs, and playfully -and gently- nudges him in the ribs with her elbow. “That is NOT how it happened at all. If anyone was doing the seducing, it was you. I am totally innocent.”

“There hasn’t been anything innocent about you in years.”

"Because YOU corrupted me. Three days after we met, you seduced me with your pretty blue eyes and your big hands and crazy muscles. “

He grins. “And my butt.”

“Yes. We can’t forget that butt.” She presses a kiss to his ear, then closes her eyes as she rests the side of her head against his. Neither speak for several minutes; the only sounds the light hum of the morphine pump and Addie’s soft babbling and cooing.

“You’re chatty,” Tyler breaks the silence. “Like your momma.”

“She has a lot to say for someone who can’t talk yet. Remind you of someone else that always has a lot to say?”

He looks up at her, a grin playing on his lips.

“Millie,” they say in unison, then laugh.

“She has always had a lot to say,” Esme says, and pushes her hand through his hair, letting the strong top strands slip slowly through her fingers. “She definitely doesn’t get THAT from you. Everything else though…”

“I don’t know, I think she got a lot of really good things from you. She’s lucky you’re her momma. They all are.”

“I think they lucked out in the daddy department too.”

“They definitely hit the genetic jackpot. Our DNA mixed together?”

“We do make beautiful babies, don’t we”

“Yeah…” he lifts Addie further up onto his chest, placing a kiss on her forehead. “...we sure do.”

“You going to be okay when I take her? You’re not going to miss her too much?”

“I’m going to miss both of you. I’ve gotten used to you being here.”

“It’s just for the rest of the day and the night. Andy will be here with you. You won’t be alone.”

He frowns. “You make it sound like I DO need a babysitter.”

“You know what’s not what I’m trying to sound like at all. I’d just rather someone be here with you. And with Koen taking Rata to the airport and Andy offering me his room…”

“It’s just going to be weird; not having you here. I sound pretty fucking pathetic, don’t it. Whining about a girl.”

“Excuse you, I’m not just some girl. And you’re not whining and you don’t sound pathetic. You’re going through a lot. I don’t want you to be alone anymore than you want to BE alone. But I need rest, Tyler. I really do. I love you, but I’m tired. And I’m trying to grow a baby here. They need me to take care of myself.”

“It was my idea, remember? You getting a room over there. I know you need rest. You’re not the only one who worries, you know. I worry about you a lot. I worry about you all the time.”

“And I love you so much for that, I do. But right now? I need you to worry about yourself. I’m fine. I just need some time away. Not from you. Away from all of this. It’s not you, you know that, right?”

He nods.

“And what’s that old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

“Baby…” he tips his head back to look up at her. “I don’t think it’s possible for my heart to grow any fonder for you.”

“You know,” she grins, and leans down to kiss. “You really DO have your cute moments.”

****

An earlier text sneakily sent to Julie has the nursing showing up an hour before her shift. They meet in the small coffee shop in the hospital’s front lobby, then retreat to the outside courtyard; a table in the shade, far enough from nosy ears and prying eyes. 

“I can’t wait until THEY aren’t needed anymore,” Esme grumbles, and jerks her head over her shoulder, motioning to one of Anil’s people lingering twenty feet away; clad in a well tailored linen suit, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, and a gun on his hip. 

Julie sips her iced coffee, then scoops Addie from her carrier; a hand under each of the baby’s arms, supporting her as she ‘stands’ on the woman’s thighs. She’s not only been genuinely motherly to both Esme and Tyler since his admittance, but has taken on the ‘grandma role’ as well; displaying a soft spot for that tiny, bright eyed, dark haired baby. And the feeling is reciprocated; Addie never failing to smile and babble happily when in Julie’s care. “Has there been trouble?” 

“There’s been some whispers, but nothing that can be substantiated. It’s probably nothing more than pissed off street thugs trying to stir the pot. There’s nothing for them to gain by coming after us; there’s no money to be had. The bounty was called off right before Mahajan was taken care of. Anil made sure of that. Forced the words out of him and recorded it. Once he was dead, all hope of getting rich died with him.”

She’s unsure what had made her be so open and honest regarding just HOW they’d ended up in the ICU of a hospital in Bangladesh; a mercenary husband isn’t something she tends to talk about. Not out of embarrassment or shames or because she cares what other people will think, but because that information could be dangerous in the wrong hands. It’s foolish to think that there aren’t there aren’t others out there seeking revenge for perceived wrong doings; a man like Tyler Rake doesn’t get the reputation he has without stepping on a lot of toes or ruffling a lot of feathers. It’s for her family’s safety; the less people know about them and their lives, the safer her children are. She doesn’t worry about her own well being -or Tyler’s when he is at a hundred percent- but certainly frets over her little ones. They’re especially vulnerable when away from the house. Never knowing if someone is watching them while on the school yard during recess or when they’re getting on the bus to come home. 

It’s better to be safe than sorry.

But Julie is genuine. That motherly touch not a show. It’s real and has no strings attached to it. There's nothing to suggest that she is anything BUT compassionate and trustworthy. And she’d made it easy for Esme to trust her; the kindhearted and often delicate approach exactly what she needed at such a difficult time. She’d spent years not receiving that kind of love and treatment from the woman who had birthed her -someone like her, so mean and hateful, doesn’t deserve any other term-, that she’d forgotten what it felt like to be treated like a daughter. Even if it is just ‘part of her job’ and she’ll forget about them once they head home to Australia, it feels good while it lasts. 

“And back home?” Julie asks, never taking her eyes off of a smiling, drooling Addie that grabs at her hair and her glasses and tries to bounce on her thighs. 

“So far nothing. I’m hoping it stays that way. Where we live is pretty remote. We picked the spot because of THAT. For the privacy and the security of it. There’s no way trouble wouldn’t be spotted before it arrived. And the people we have there...the friends we have...they know how to handle things. I trust them. With my kids’ lives.”

“It’s a heck of a way to live.”

“Normally it’s very peaceful. There’s a little bit of a ‘what if’ in the back of our minds, but it’s never been like this. We’re always so careful with who we talk to, who we deal with, who we actually put our trust in. I keep anything and everything on social media locked downand Tyler doesn’t have any form of it whatsoever. He might as well not even exist as far as the rest of the world is concerned. And he likes it that way. He likes his privacy and having his own little ‘happy place’; he likes the security that being where we are gives him. He keeps to himself for the most part; my own family didn’t know what he looked like or what his full name was until we actually got married. But all of this? This is just…” she sighs. “...hell. It’s been hell.”

“I’m not trying to sound judgmental or harsh in the slightest, believe me. So please don’t take what I’m going to ask next as me being mean or undermining what you’re going through.”

“I won’t take it that way. I can tell your intent. You’re not a hurtful person.”

“But with children in the picture, wouldn’t it be better to get out of that life? So you don’t have to worry about those ‘what if’s’? Wouldn’t it be easier to just walk away instead of having to take all those precautions? Wouldn’t it be better to just be able to live? Without all the worrying and the stress and the fear.”

“It would be,” Esme admits. “But this is what he knows. It’s what he does best. And it’s not that easy to just walk away from it. Not after years of doing it. He’s tired. Many times. After our daughter was born, he gave up. He was still trying to recover from what happened here the first time and he wanted to concentrate on being a husband and a father. And he did amazing. He did. But when all you know is that or the military and the latter is out of the question and all the bills start piling up and there’s little mouths to feed, you have to do what you think is best. And he went back. He did what he had to do to take care of his family. That’s all that’s ever been important to him; taking care of us and keeping us safe.”

“Do you think he’ll go back? After this?”

“I know he will. It’s a matter of when he goes back. But on the bright side, we’re going to be running our own business, and I have my fingers crossed that once he gets a taste of running things behind the scenes, he won’t want to go back to getting his hands dirty. It’s hard; he’s constantly on the go and can’t sit still for more than five minutes and is just so active with the kids. I don’t want his body or his mind getting too idle. It won’t be good for him. He won’t be able to deal if he doesn’t at least have the option of getting out there. Does that make sense?”

“Complete sense.”

“I know this life is hard for most people to understand. It’s one of the reasons I DON’T talk about it. It’s a kind of a shock for people; finding out Tyler is a soldier for hire. We usually just say he’s ex military and that he moonlights in private security. It’s what I told my own family. And believe me, they didn’t take the truth well at all. They already hated him to begin with, finding out he was a mercenary just sent them over the top. My mother, she’s unbelievable. She’s the ringleader of it all. She’s always been toxic, but when I stayed seven years ago and I decided to make a life with Tyler, she just went off the deep end. She sees him as garbage. Lower than garbage, even. She has said some horrible things about him. She’s even wished death on him.”

“I am so sorry,” Julie keeps a firm hold on Addie with one hand, then reaches out to squeeze Esme’s shoulder. “You don’t deserve that. Neither of you do.”

“She’s been horrible all my life. She’s never been a REAL mother. She gave birth to me, that’s about it. And when I decided to make a life of my own and stay in Australia and get married and start a family? That made her a hundred times worse. She thinks he somehow has me trapped there. Or has brainwashed me into staying with him. She calls him ‘that man’. Never by his name. He tried to make things right with her and extend the olive branch but it didn’t stick. He did it for me. He thought it was I needed; a relationship with my mother. But it wasn’t worth it. It just made her worse. She even treats the kids like second class citizens.”

“She sounds...horrible.”

“She is. There is no denying that. And as weird as it sounds, it still makes me sad. Because that’s my mother. And maybe I should try harder. Especially now that she doesn’t have much longer. But I can’t bring myself to do it; reach out to her. It just hurts too much. All the things she’s said about him and said about my kids. I can't get over that. I certainly can’t forgive it. Does that make me a horrible person? That I can’t make amends with my own mother?”

“You don’t owe toxic people anything. If the best thing is to keep her out of your life, then it is what it is.”

“I don’t care what she says about me. I’ve long ago stopped caring about that. But when she talks about him or the kids, I just…” she sighs. “...I can’t forgive OR forget that.”

“I’d be the same. I’d cut my family out if they treated my husband or my kids like that.”

“She thinks he’s some kind of monster because of what he does for a living. And he’s not. He is so far being a monster. He has this huge, beautiful heart; when he loves, he loves with everything he has. And he’s an amazing father. They adore him and he’s so good with them. And she doesn’t see any of that. She wouldn’t take the time to see it. She’s too busy hating him. And it hurts my heart. Because he IS my heart. I must sound really pathetic to you right about now, huh?”

“No,” Julie says. “You just sound like someone who has been holding a lot inside for a lot of years.”

“I try not to talk about it. As far as I’m concerned, that Esme? The one existed in my mother’s eyes? She’s been dead for a long time. I stopped being her a long time ago. And I like the Esme I am now. I like the life I have. I LOVE the life I have. I love being a wife and a mother. And if she can’t accept that, that’s her issue, not mine.”

“You need to keep reminding yourself of that. Whenever she creeps into that pretty little head of yours and tries to drag you down? You tell herself exactly what you just told me. And I can tell...watching the two of you together...that there’s something really special there. That’s not a normal bond. It’s something strong and incredible. And I’ve seen him with this little one…” she presses a kiss to Addie’s forehead and then settles her on her lap. “...and you’re right; he is a pretty good daddy.”

Esme smiles. “He is. I wish you could see him in all his daddy glory. When he’s healthy and he’s home and he doesn’t have all of this on his plate. Because it’s amazing; seeing him that way.”

“Well I always have wanted to visit Australia. Maybe when he is home and back on his feet, I could come and see that.”

“You’d be more than welcome, that’s for sure. We’d love to have you there. You and your family. And now that I’ve used you as a therapist and wasted a lot of your hour before you start work, I guess I should get to why I really asked you to meet me.”

“It’s what I’m here for, sweets. And you haven’t wasted any of my time, trust me. What’s on your mind? I can tell it’s big.”

“I’m worried about Tyler. Not physically. He’s doing incredible that way. But mentally. I’m really worried about him.”

“What’s going on?”

“You already know that he has PTSD; you’ve seen in all it’s glory when he first wakes up in the morning and he’s disoriented and confused and then the reality of being a hospital sets in. You’ve seen him lose it.”

“More than once.”

“When it kicks in, his brain just takes over and he freaks out; he doesn’t even know what he’s saying or doing. And it’s scary; I’ve lived with it for seven years almost. I’ve been the one to talk him down on many occasions. I’m the one who had to commit him the second time he tried to kill himself.”

“You think things are getting worse? That they’re leading to that?”

Esme nods as she fights back tears. “I’ve seen him in that horribly dark place and I don’t want him going back there. Because if he does, I don’t know if I’ll get him back out this time. I don’t want to lose him; especially not to his own mind. And the way his moods have been and the things he’s been saying, I can tell he’s heading down a really bad road. I want to stop it before he gets even further. I just don’t know how.”

“You think he might try to do something? To hurt himself?”

“I don’t think he’s quite there yet, but I don’t want him getting anywhere near there. He’s already admitted he needs help, and believe me, Tyler never admits to things like that. It was beaten into him as a kid; asking for help shows weakness and a real man is never weak. Things are starting to come back to him. About what happened last week. And it’s going to get very ugly very quickly and I know he won’t be able to handle it. I need to get him help. BEFORE it’s too late. We can’t wait until we get home. It’ll be too late by then. I need to help him. I just need help doing it.”

“We have a crisis team here. That’s worked with people that have suffered severe trauma and have PTSD as a result. A lot of them are ex military and police. I’ll personally contact them. I won’t waste time bringing it to a doctor and waiting for a referral.”

“You can do that? Bypass the doctors?”

“I shouldn’t, but I will. Do you think meds would help?”

“He won’t take meds. He already told me that. Unless there’s a way you can do it without him knowing. I know that sounds terrible. Sneaking it past him like that. But I’m desperate. He needs help. Now. Not later. I love him and I need him around. And so do my kids.”

“I’m sure there’s a way I can talk him into letting me give him something. We’ll be upping the pain meds: I could always say that I'm giving him something to help with the nausea. There’s a lot of drugs that can do both; help him from feeling sick and keep him calm.”

“I don’t want him to be a zombie. I just want him relaxed. I want his brain to stop torturing him. And I know he’s going to snap over the idea of talking to someone. But if I’m with him, I know he’ll do it. He'll do it reluctantly, but he WILL do it. For me. I seem to be his driving force for a lot of things.”

“Well he loves you. That much is obvious. I see the way he looks at you.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it. The way he looks at me. The way he loves me. He doesn’t see himself the way I see him. And I see him as my everything. I never thought I’d say that about a man, believe me.”

Julie laughs. “I hear you on that. I swore I’d never get married. Well here I am; thirty years later. Still married.”

“I’m actually looking forward to that. Spending that long with him. Longer, hopefully. Life would suck pretty huge without him. So you can help me? You can help him?”

“I can,” Julie assures her, then reaches out to lay a hand on the side of Esme’s head, drawing it down to her shoulder. “He’ll get through this,” she promises. “And so will you.”


	92. Chapter 92

“You know,” Andy comments as he lounges on the little pullout, back resting against one of the arms and those long, skinny legs hanging over the other. “You’re actually pretty photogenic.”

“What are you on about?” 

Tyler frowns as he glances up from his cell, breaking away from the texts and photos that have been coming in from home. The three oldest kids in temporary possession of Ovi’s phone and sending him awkward yet adorable selfies, blurry photos of the beach and impending sunset, and hard to comprehend close ups of what he assumes is their homework and craft projects they’ve made. And then there’s the messages themselves. A lot of ‘We love you daddy’ and ‘we miss you’ and a couple of Millie complaining about her ‘one brother who won’t be mentioned’ annoying her and cruising for a punch in the face. And there’s the ‘why can’t we talk to you? We miss talking to you. Why don’t you want to talk to us?’. It breaks his heart; those beautiful little beings with all their blind faith and trust him. Even at their young ages they know him very well; daddy would never just ignore them or abandon them. It’s fear that holds him back mostly. Scared of letting them see him bruised and battered and completely laid up; a far cry from the active and hands on daddy that they’ve known all their lives. And reluctant to let them witness how fragile he is emotionally; not wanting to break down in front of them and make them even more worried and anxious than they already are. 

“Your wife’s Instagram,” Andy explains, and holds his phone out towards him. “I follow her. You know what Instagram is right?”

“Of course I know what is. And I know she has one. I just never look at it.”

“Ever?”

“I don’t have shit like that. That’s more her thing.” 

He didn't like the idea at first; his wife having any kind of presence on social media. It’s a safety issue; foolish to think that there isn’t someone out there looking for revenge and trying to track him down. He’s burned a lot of bridges; made enemies with quite a few folks in possession of a lot of money, resources, and the chance to use both to enact revenge. It’s why -once deciding to move back to Australia- they’d chosen the place they had. A rather sleepy, coastal town and extensive property located on the northern most point. Remote, yet just close enough to the little downtown. Only five houses on the entire gravel road, their closest neighbour over two hundred yards away; coming with a sense of peace and security that they hadn’t quite experienced in Colorado. So when Esme had broached the subject of wanting some kind of platform only a handful of select friends and family could follow her on, he’d been leery; the thought of her and the kids’ names and faces out there kicking his paranoia up an even higher notch. But when she’d showed him just how secure she’d be able to keep things, he’d relented. Being thousands of miles away from her sister and the few long time friends she keeps in contact with was hard enough; shutting her away from them and essentially the rest of the world would only make things worse. After that he’d never given it a second thought; never asking about her social media accounts, never actually checking them out himself, and never questioning why they hell she always insisted on taking so many damn pictures all the time.

“Speaking from an artist’s point of view, she’s got quite a good little eye,” Andy praises. “And it’s easy to see what...or should I say WHO…” he stares pointedly at Tyler. “...is her favourite subject.” 

“Let me see that,” he motions for Andy to hand him the phone, who in turn tosses the object in his direction; landing between his thighs. 

“And I have to say, her handle? Very cute.”

“Her what?”

“Her handle. Her name. What she goes by on there. You really don’t know anything about this kind of stuff, do you.”

“I use my phone to text and call people. Take pictures. That’s about it.”

“You need to get up on the times. Your kids are growing up; they’re going to be all into this stuff in the blink of an eye. We should make you one; an Instagram.”

“Why the hell would I want that?”

“You’d be able to see what she’s posting. Comment on it. A lot of good stuff on there. Just look…” Andy nods at the cell now in Tyler’s hand. “...and be flattered when you do; she obviously thinks very highly of you.”

“Yeah, well her taste in men has always been pretty questionable, so…”

He swipes his finger across the screen to bring it to life and then scrolls up to the top of the page. A grin tugging at the corners of the simply -yet so her- screen name: EsmeExPat. Followed by a wider, quicker spreading smile as he spies the profile picture; one that he’d taken himself and had used as his phone lock screen for over a year. Taken after the first surfing lesson he’d ever given her; the bridge of her nose and her cheeks lightly burnt by the sun, hair wet and hanging loose, specks of sand littering her face. So fucking beautiful; that natural, ‘girl next door’ beauty and the youthful and almost innocent happiness that she exudes when she flashes that wide, brilliant smile. Her bio is just as cute as she is: ‘Just a wife and mommy (5+½ little humans, 2 fur babies) who traded in the snow and mountains for the sand and the ocean. Living and loving Down Under. 

The page is full of random photos; glorious sunrises and breathtaking sunsets, the kangaroos and koalas that come to the back patio door every night to get the various veggies and fruits the kids leave out for them. Numerous of the kids themselves; all accompanied by captions that make it very clear they’re written by an extremely proud and loving mother. And lots of pictures of him. Most taken with his knowledge; a handful where he’d been cooperative and agreeable, others where’d he’d been annoyed by her incessant requests for ‘just a couple more pictures!’’. Some where he’d been too busy with a kid -or kids- to even pay attention to what she was doing. And there’s moments where she’d been a little sneakier; catching him with his head or his back turned (the latter accompanied by captions like ‘dat ass’ or ‘check out the shoulders and the back on this DILF’) and even fast asleep with one little body -or a few- tucked alongside and on top of him. 

It’s a black and white photo of them together that catches his eye. Him sprawled out on his stomach and out like a light, her laying beside him with her nose pressed against his forehead; eyes closed and those long, dark lashes skimming the tops of her cheeks. And he taps on the picture, noticing it was taken the morning of his fortieth birthday. They’d still been in Telluride; Addie not even a twinkle in her momma’s eye, Declan only a couple of months old. 

“I don’t think he’ll ever know just how much of an impact he’s had on my life,” the caption reads. “Or how much I love him. There are simply no words that could EVER come close to describing how much I actually do. Happy 40th birthday, my love. The best husband and four time baby daddy a girl could ever ask, dream, or hope for. You’re my best friend, my confidant, my lover, my biggest and strongest supporter, my protector, my one and only, and my forever and ever. Thank you for loving me the way you do. Especially on the days I’m not very lovable. I love you more today than yesterday, but less than tomorrow.”

He can’t explain why those words hit him so hard. She’s never been the type to shy away from both telling and showing how she feels; not a single time in the past almost seven years where he’s questioned or doubted it. Not even during their six month separation, when things had been at their worst and he’d wake up every morning and wonder if that was the day he’d finally get served with divorce papers. He’d see it in her eyes when he went to pick up the kids for scheduled visitations; profound hurt and sadness instead of anger and disgust. And in the way -when she’d cave in to his half drunken apologies and empty promises- she’d allow him into their bed and cling desperately to him during and after love making. There’s been many times when he felt he didn’t deserve that love and attempted to push it -and her- away. Only for her to love him even harder.

“You okay?” Andy asks, and Tyler is suddenly aware that his friend has moved from the couch to the beside chair.

“You ever read something that hits you pretty hard? You know how someone feels about you and you’ve never doubted they did, but when it’s right in front of you...written out...it’s a whole new ballgame?”

“A couple of times. It’s like having solid proof...evidence...right in front of you.”

“It’s just something she wrote. On one of the pictures. Things I’ve heard her say a hundred times, if not more. But seeing it? Just seem to register differently. Really hits home; makes me realize just how lucky actually am. And how much I need to change. For good this time. She deserves that.”

“She’s pretty tough for a little thing. This isn’t an easy time. On either of you. But the way she’s been handling it…”

“She’s the toughest person I know. All five feet, one inch of her. I think I’ve been taking it for granted; how tough she actually is. I guess I’ve always thought she can handle anything I throw her way, so why change? Guess it’s been in my head that no matter how many times I fuck up, she’ll just fight through it and not kick my ass out into the street. I need to knock that shit off. For good. ‘Cause one day she won’t put up it and that’ll fucking kill me. Losing her.”

“You two have a good thing,” Andy says. “A strong foundation. If you take into consideration how things started out and how they nearly ended before really getting off the ground…”

“She told you about that? How things went down between us?”

“The basics.”

“She put her ass on the line to save mine. She never even thought twice about it. She just did it. How do you ever thank someone for that? How do you ever repay them?”

“I don’t think she expects either. She doesn’t like talking about THAT part.”

“I think it embarrasses her; being put on a pedestal like that. But she didn’t just save my life THAT way; she did it in every way. Before her, I was ready to die. I was messed up. Way more than I am now. I was a drunk and an addict; booze and pain meds. I still am. I always will be. Back then, before she came along, I was taking jobs hoping they would kill me. That someone would manage to cut me down and just end it. Then I met her and everything changed. In the course of five days. How is that even possible? Things happening THAT soon?”

“When you know, you know,” Andy reasons.

“My heart knew. Just took it a long time to convince my brain. And I knew; that I was in love with her. I don’t know when during those five days it happened, I just know it did. I knew that last day; that she was it for me. All I could think about was her; if she made it across the bridge. I didn’t even know if she was dead or alive at that point. But I was praying that it was the latter. I’m not a praying man by any stretch of the imagination, but I sure as fuck was that day.”

His eyes remain on the phone as he continues to scroll through her feed of pictures. Dating all the way back to a photo he’d taken a half hour after Millie was born; Esme’s eyes closed and the bridge of her nose pressed against their new baby’s cheek, a gentle hand on the top of Millie’s head. He’d forgotten about it; so many memories made in the past seven years that some of the little moments have abandoned him. But he remembers how he’d felt in that moment; a powerful, overwhelming love for his wife and his daughter. And pride. So much pride. 

“You know, it’s weird; how someone can have that much of an impact yet you barely know them. But there was something about her; something different. And I wanted that. I wanted HER.”

“It happens when we least expect it. Love.”

“I guess it does. And I guess it didn’t hurt that she was hot as fuck and a wicked body on her. Not that she still doesn’t; it’s even better now. But then? When I was just getting to know her? Looking like she did didn’t hurt, that’s for sure. It was messed up; the whole situation. She was the only thing that felt right. Kind of like now. Everything is so fucked up. I’M fucked up. But she’s here. She’s the only thing that’s making any sense right about now. She…” his voice trails off, a frown capturing his lips.

“What?” Andy asks. “What’s wrong? What…?”

“I don’t usually don’t talk about this kind of stuff. Not sober, anyway.”

“Maybe you just never had someone to talk about it with.” Andy suggests. “Someone you’re comfortable with. I’m sure your other friends are very good; I’m not trying to say they’re not. But they’re a little...rough around the edges.”

It makes him think of TJ; how happy that five year old had been at the mere thought of him spending time with Andy and the possibility of Zeke being able to come over to the house and hang out. How in that innocent and honest way that only children possess, he’d said it would be good if his dad had a ‘normal friend’. And now that he thinks of it, he whole heartily agrees. Everyone that he’s been close to -and allowed close to him- has served in the military or is involved in mercenary life, one way or another. It IS nice having someone to talk to that doesn’t have ties to either of those lifestyles.

“It’s not just their edges that are like that,” Tyler says. “Years in the military will do that to you. It hardens you. Not just on the outside, either. Seeing the things we saw and doing the things we had to do. That fucks you up; changes you. And not for the better, either.”

“Doesn’t seem to have changed you. You still show a lot of humanity. A lot of compassion. There’s still a softness you; to your heart.”

Tyler smirks. “You sound like my wife.”

“Well they do say brilliant minds think alike.”

“When I met her, I wasn’t the guy I am now. I’m still not the guy I WANT to be. But seven years ago? You wouldn’t have wanted to know that guy . I didn’t even want to know him. I don’t think I was THAT hard; I wasn’t half as bad as some of the guys get after multiple tours. But I was bad enough. Took her and having kids to bring all the good stuff back out. It took all of them to remind me that I’m human. That I’m not the monster that I made myself out to be.”

“You don’t come across that way; as a monster. A little tattered around the edges; intimidating IF you want to be. But definitely not a monster.”

“I don’t know, mate. I’ve got a lot of blood on my hands. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions. Ones I wish I could go back and change. Do things differently. I fucked up huge. Long before I met Esme. With my first wife. And my son.”

“I had no idea; that you were married before. That you had a whole other family.”

“I don’t. My son died. When he was six. Lymphoma.”

It doesn’t hurt as much as now; the pain and the grief not nearly as palatable. It’s been almost thirteen years; since Austin died and his first marriage disintegrated. It had been well on its way to the point of no return before his son’s illness; his wife’s constant infidelities, him always putting the military before her and their child. Now he can think of Austin without immense guilt and shame; without shedding tears or feeling his heart break into a million pieces. His new life was responsible for that; lessening the pain and the amount of self hate. So had having other children. Not as replacements for what he’d lost, but reminders of how far he’d come and how grateful he should be for even being given a second chance as a husband and father. To prove -mostly to himself- that he could be the guy that sticks around; his love for his family bigger than any of his weaknesses. Five -eventually six- chances to right all the wrongs; opportunities to live for something -and someone- other than himself. Being able to love them and put them first and foremost, in turn stopping him from dwelling on his past mistakes.

“Jesus, mate…” Andy reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder. “...I don’t even know what to say other than sorry. And that doesn’t quite seem to cut it. I had no idea; about another wife and child.”

“It’s not something I talk about. I used to avoid it at all costs, actually. Too ashamed of myself, I guess. I made a bad decision; worst I’ve ever made. I didn’t stick around when he was near the end; volunteered for another tour in Afghanistan. He died when I was away.”

“I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I fucked up. Huge. And I hated myself for a long time. Sometimes I still do; if I think it about a little too much or my brain’s in one of its shitty moods. But it’s not as bad as it was before. Getting a second chance helped with it. Now I’m just trying to be the best husband and father I can. Prove it to myself. Maybe even to my son.”

“Well for what it’s worth, from what I’ve seen with my own two eyes and what your wife always is posting on her insta, I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job. She knows about all of this, yeah? It’s not a deep, dark secret I have to keep? Just making sure.”

“No secret. She knows; I told her during those five days. There’s nothing I haven’t told her. She knows everything there is to know about me. We don’t do that; keep that kind of shit from each other. We never have. It’s not who we are.”

“And your wife? Ex wife, I should say.”

“I haven’t seen her in about ten years. If not more. I know she showed up at the hospital after Dhaka; when I got transferred to a hospital back home. I never saw her though; I was told she tagged along with my father. I was so fucking pissed when I found out she had never to come around. That HE had the nerve to bring her. We had just found out we were having Millie about three weeks before; Esme was already starting to show with her. The last thing she needed was to deal with my father AND my ex.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Last I heard, she was in Brisbane. Her brother tracked me down; when we were still living in Colorado. Don’t know why he felt the need to, other than to start shit. I’d moved on; had a wife, three little ones, couple years removed from finding out about Declan. I admit; I was a total dick the first time around. I didn’t put my wife and my kid first. I was a total pussy and took off at the worst possible time. I was the biggest reason for why things totally fell apart, but I wasn’t the only reason. We had a lot of issues.”

“Were you together long or…?”

“All through high school. I honestly thought I was destined to spend the rest of my life with her. Back then, I couldn’t imagine spending it with anyone else. Things started going back as soon as we got married; she talked a good game about being okay with being a soldier's wife. Only thing she liked about it was all the dick she could while I was deployed. Yet I still fucking stayed; I thought things would change. Especially when we found out we were having a kid. I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was three months old when she went back to being the base whore. I wanted to leave. Many times. I almost did. Then my son got sick and I just couldn’t do it to her. Or him. You know, I always thought she was the love of my life. Then I met Esme and I found out quick just how wrong I’d been. So maybe it’s good in a way; that things happened the way they did. If they hadn’t, I would never have gotten into the job. Which means I never would have met her and I wouldn’t have any of my kids. And I can’t imagine not having her OR them.”

“That’s actually a very good look,” Andy says. “Puts it all into perspective.”

“That…” Tyler brings up one of the many selfies his wife has posted. Taken the Christmas just passed; their first in Australia as a family of seven. Standing in front of the Christmas tree with her hair in braided pigtails; wearing a headband adorned with felt, light up reindeer antlers, and an enormous, beautiful smile. “...THAT is the love of my life. No one before her exists. No one will come after her, either. That’s it. SHE’S it.”

Andy grins. “Sounds like a man in love.”

“I thought I knew what love was. Then I met her and realized I didn’t. That’s my whole world right there. All because she had the balls to stick around on that bridge. Think you could help me out with something?”

“It’s what I’m here for. What you have in mind?”

“I wanna make one of these. As long as I can lock shit down; I don’t want complete strangers or people I’ve pissed off looking at my wife and kids.”

“We can make it so you have to approve who follows you.”

“I just want them to be safe. That’s all. I don’t need some asshole with a grudge seeing my family and knowing where they are. I have to protect them. No matter what. So you’ll do it? Help me? I’m kinda illiterate when it comes to this social media crap. I think my wife would get a kick out of it; me joining the real world. You can do it?”

“I can,” Andy says. “And I can do it right now.”

****

She spends the first hour of her hotel stay down at the indoor pool with Addie. Initially embarrassed at the thought of Anil’s appointed body guard seeing her in a rather revealing two piece that only serves to accentuate the ever growing baby bump. But all her insecurities and hesitations go by the wayside when she gets Addie into the water. That enormous, eye crinkling smile the second it touches the tips of her toes, followed by a slight, wide eyed gasp when it hits the back of her legs, then the giggle -a milestone still not fully reached, but on its way- when it reaches the small of her back. Out of all the kids, she’s the one that’s been the most bright eyed and curious. Extremely alert since those first days after birth; quickly responding to sounds and familiar voices, smiling before any of her siblings. The tiniest of them all, but also the liveliest and the most entertaining. 

When she returns to the room, the guard sets up camp in the hallway; a simple metal fold up chair placed next to the door. While it should be comforting knowing that someone is close by in case trouble arises, the man’s presence only seems to unnerve her even more. Is there something to be worried about? Has Anil heard whispers of a potential threat? Are there street thugs still pledging allegiance to Amir Asif and are looking to avenge him? 

There’s only person she TRULY trusts with not only her life, but Addie’s as well; who’d stop at nothing to keep them safe. And he’s hardly in any condition to protect either of them. 

A content and sleepy Addie laying on her chest as she soaks in a warm bath, the baby enjoying the water being dribbled along her body and the gentle movements of the face cloth as it rinses chlorine from her tender skin. And she talks in soft, gentle tones to her daughter; telling her how loved she is, how beautiful and perfect, promises to get her home as soon as possible so she can see her brothers and sister again and life can go back to somewhat normal. Assures her -and herself- that daddy’s going to be okay. That he’s tough and he’s strong and never lets anything hold him back. That once he gets sent back to Australia, his recovery will go a lot smoother and a lot quicker without the added worry and stress of being so far away from the majority of his family.

Laying on stomach in the middle of one of the queen sized beds, she flips through the room service menu with one hand while feeding Addie a bottle with the other. It’s oddly quiet; no hum from the running morphine pump, no call bells going off in other patients rooms, no chattering of nurses. Just the soft, happy murmurs and coos that Addie makes during her meals and the sound of the in room air conditioner on high. Her cell phone chimes beside her and she peeks over at the screen; a notification that someone is wanting to follow her on Instagram. She’s extremely selective when it comes to who she’ll allow; a total of ten followers that she knows extremely well and trusts not to leak personal information or photos of her children. But this request is baffling; a frown capturing her lips as she encounters a fellow secure account with the handle of AussieRake and a profile picture of Tyler and herself. She exits the app, then dials the familiar number.

“What do you want?” He playfully greets. “I thought we were taking a break from each other?”

“I’m very confused right now. And slightly unsettled. Either someone is pretending to be you and has a picture of us, or you just sent me an insta follow request.”

“Nothing to worry about. It’s from me.”

“You got an Instagram?”

“Just now. Andy helped me make it.”

“Wait a second...hold up...my husband...the King of introverts...hater of social media...got an Instagram?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You despise things like Instagram or Facebook or twitter. You were pissed when I wanted to get them. What is happening right now? Who are you and what have you done with Tyler?”

“I just thought it would be fun.”

“You thought having a social media account would be fun? You. Of all people. You thought it would be fun? What kind of meds are they giving you? Because I think I want some.”

“Andy showed me yours and I thought I’d get one too. So I can post pictures of you. I figure it’s only fair. If you’re going to show me off, I should show you off too. Personally I think I have a lot more to brag about then you do. I’m kind of married to a MILF.”

She grins and rolls over onto her back. “Says the Crown Prince of the DILFs. The thirst trap of all thirst traps.”

“What the hell is a thirst trap?”

“Oh yeah, I forget who I’m talking to. You’re not up with the lingo. A thirst trap is basically a social media post that intends to sexually entice people.”

“But I haven’t had any social media until now and I haven’t posted anything yet. You’re the one that’s been posting all kinds of pictures of me. A lot of me with no shirt on and my shorts practically hanging off.”

“Well maybe wear your shorts properly and there wouldn't be a problem,” she teases.

“There’s even pictures of me working out. So doesn’t that mean since you posted them, you’re the one that turned me into a thirst trap?”

“That’s a very good point, husband.”

“I’m so going to turn you into one.”

“I’ve had five kids. I’m pregnant with my sixth. I’m hardly thirst trap material. But I love you for always being up to the challenge of stroking my ego. You. With an Instagram. You’re going to start dm’ing me dick pics, aren’t you.”

“Once I get the tube out of it? You’re goddamn right I am.”

She grins. “I’ll report you. To the Insta police.”

“You’d never.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t. And I'd rather see it in person, but seeing as that won’t happen for quite a while, I guess pics will have to do. Do you miss me?”

“Do you miss me?

“I asked you first.”

“I do, actually. You’re the one that’s made this whole shitty mess a little easier to deal with. And it helps that you’re easy to look at. Andy, not so much. ”

“I don’t know; I think he's kinda cute.”

“Totally not my type.”

“I forgot; you like tiny brunettes with nice boobs and nice asses.”

“Wrong. I like ONE tiny brunette with nice boobs and a nice ass.”

“Baby, you’re such a sweet talker. Who says romance is dead? And yes, I do miss you. And this wasn’t about getting away from you, you know that right? That is NOT what this was about it. It was about getting away from there. Spending time with Addie. Recharging. So I can come back and take care of you properly.”

“I don’t need you taking care of me. I just want you here to keep me company.”

She smiles, then rolls onto her side and plucks the half empty bottle from a sleeping Addie’s mouth. “I’m your emotional support companion, am I?”

“You’re a lot of things. I just like having you around.”

“I like having you around too. I’d much prefer you NOT laid up in a hospital bed, but it’s way better than the alternative. At least you’re alive. That’s all that matters. I get to spend at least another...I don’t know...fifty years with you.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to live to be ninety two.”

“You’ll probably live to be a hundred and two. I’m starting to think you ARE too stubborn to die. Not that that’s a bad thing. I’m actually pretty grateful for your stubbornness right about now. Are you okay? You don’t miss me too much do you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Did you eat?”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“You’re supposed to be away from this place. That means not talking about it.”

“Well excuse me for being a tad worried about you.”

“You need to stop worrying.”

“Excuse me, have we met? Are you new here? Is it your first day in this marriage? I worry. It’s what I do. You can’t stop it. You think you’d have learned that by now.”

“Well I want you to stop it. You said yourself that it’s all uphill from here, yeah? All the really difficult and scary shit is behind us. Now all I have to do is get my legs back working and then we can get the fuck out of Dhaka.”

“It’s going to take a little more than that,” she says, as uses a fingertip to clear away milk that trickles from the corner of Addie’s mouth and down onto her chin. “They have a list of things you’re going to have to be able to do. Before they’ll send you home.”

He sighs. “Who’s they?”

“The specialists. Especially the neurologist and the ortho that fixed your leg. They have rules. They won’t let you go if you don’t follow them.”

“Fuck them. And their rules.”

“Promise me you won’t say that to them. At least not until I’m there to witness it. Because THAT I would love to see. Did you? Eat?”

“I did. And I actually fed it to myself.”

“See? Progress. Next step, get the tube out of your dick and learn how to get yourself to the bathroom.”

“That sounds really fucking pathetic.”

“Listen, a week ago I thought you were going to end up in the morgue. I’ll take having to help you to the bathroom over THAT. I did it before, remember? Seven years ago. I didn’t have a problem doing it then and I certainly don’t have a problem doing it now. It is what is; you can’t help it.”

“You gonna hold it for me? When I DO take a leak?”

“Do you want me to?”

“You can touch it anytime you want.”

“I already do,” she giggles, and he laughs. “I think I touch it TOO much.”

“There’s no such thing as touching it too much.”

“Says the man who makes the babies but doesn’t have to carry them. And speaking of babies, Addie was trying to hold her bottle. Already. None of the others tried this soon. She’s just full of little tricks. Remember how TJ used to hold his bottle? We’d walk into the room and he’d been in his crib, feeding himself with his feet. I don’t know if he was being lazy or clever.”

“Being a shit head. He’s always been a little off the reservation that kid.”

“Remember that book you made me when we first moved back here? The one where you got the kids to answer questions inside of it? And the one was ‘If you really tried, you’d be able to…’ And Millie said ‘learn to surf’ and Tanner was all ‘not be afraid of the snakes and spiders and get them yourself’?”

“I do. I do remember that.”

“And what did your namesake say? What did he come out with? Burn the house down.”

“That kid is going places. Most likely therapy or jail.”

“In all fairness, I may have bitched once or twice about the mess and said I was going to burn the house down. That kid is too much. If he’s not cracking wise or terrorizing his sister, he’s throwing himself over banisters and off decks. He is so you. No fear.”

“There’s a lot I’m afraid of, trust me.”

“And you know that’s okay, right? Being afraid of things? You know that’s perfectly okay?”

“I’m starting to.”

“It’s okay to be afraid of things, Tyler. Especially right now. I’d be worried if you WEREN’T afraid. I know you’re going through a lot. Especially in your mind. And I’m sorry. That I can’t help you.”

“You’re doing just fine, baby. You ARE helping. And I'M sorry. For what I said. I never meant it.:

“I know you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt. To hear that come out of your mouth. I never thought I’d hear that and when I did…”

“It was a shitty thing for me to say. And I am sorry. I’d never hurt you. You know I wouldn’t.”

“I do. And I’d never hurt you. That’s why I need you to know I didn’t do this...come here...to hurt you. “

“I know you didn’t. I worry about you too, you know. You and the baby. You needed to get away from all of this. I need you to take care of yourself. Our baby needs it.”

“Or babies,” she corrects.

“Don’t you start with that.”

Esme slips a hand through the opening on her robe, running it over her bump. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I really do think there might be more than one in there.”

“That’s not bad news. It would be surprising news. But not bad.”

“That would make seven. So much for your even number.”

“Maybe it would be eight.”

She frowns. “You shut up.”

“If we end up with seven, then we end up with seven. It’s not like we can’t afford it. One thing we’re never going to have to worry about again and that’s money. Why not have tons of kids? We can definitely clothe them and feed them and put a roof over their heads.”

“I don’t know how I ever went from ‘I’m never getting married again’ to actually getting married and having so many kids.”

“I’m very persuasive.”

“You are,” she agrees. “You just reeled me right in with your blue eyes and your awesome hair and your even more awesome baby and your fabulous ass. I didn’t stand a chance. I knew once I wanted to call you for a booty call the first day I met you that I was in trouble.”

“You so should have called me.”

“You would have showed up?”

“Damn right I would have.”

“Good things come to those who wait, right? I made you wait a few extra days. I had some fun though. The nights leading up to it. Were your ears burning? They should have been. I totally said your name a few times. Okay, so maybe it was more than a few and maybe it wasn’t a little more intense than saying it.”

“You mean THOSE kinds of fun times?”

“Exactly what I mean.”

“You are so dirty. And you say I corrupted you. What are you wearing right now?”

“What does it matter? You can’t do anything about it anyway. Not like you can get it up. And even if you can, I’d suggest against it . I think that would be very painful.”

“Pain or not, I’m on so many meds, it definitely doesn’t work right now.”

“Poor baby. Missing out on his favourite form of cardio.”

“What ARE you wearing?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Just humour me. Let’s try to pretend some things are normal. YOU can at least have fun once I hang up the phone.”

“You know what? I just might.”

“You just had to say that,” he grumbles. “Now I’m going to have THAT stuck in my head all damn night.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I wasn’t thanking you. Seriously though; what are you wearing?”

“A bathrobe.”

“That’s it?”

“I just got out of the tub. I haven’t put clothes back on yet.”

Tyler sighs.

“What? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so mean to you. I didn’t realize just mentioning taking a bath would rile you up. If you were able to get riled up, that is.”

“If I even think of you half naked, I get riled up. So thinking of you totally naked…”

“Well you usually ARE naked when you take a bath.”

“I really do not like you right now.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughs. “I’ll make it up to you. When you’re able to get it up that is. I miss it too, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t. But I appreciate the sentiment. I gotta go. Nurse Ratched is here.”

“She’s not that bad and you know it. You’re actually her favourite. She told me so. I love you. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? And I’ll let you follow me on instagram. I’m feeling generous tonight. I might even follow you back.”

“I’m going to be posting a lot of MILF pictures on there. Just so you know.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

“I love you. So much. Give Addie a hug and a kiss from me. Tell little peanut I love her.”

“I will,” she promises. “Sleep well, okay? And if you DO need me, I’m a text away. I’ll answer if it’s you.”

“I’ll be okay. Miserable, but okay. Sleep well, baby. Sweet dreams of sweet things.”

“And no dick pics!” she warns, and then disconnects the call.


	93. Chapter 93

“It’s your lucky day handsome.”

Julie waits until he deposits his phone on the bedside table before greeting him. It’s been her ‘pet name’ for him since day one; a hazy recollection of her calling him that during a brief moment of consciousness that first night in the ICU. A blanket straight from the warmer in the hall being placed over him and a damp face cloth being pressed against his face; clearing away any and all remnants of dried blood. A palm resting on his cheek and his head being ever so gently turned sideways; his eyelids heavy and vision blurry, barely able to make out the soft, kind face regarding him. He remembers trying to speak; tongue feeling thick and throat painfully dry and only managing to get out on intelligible word: water. She had smiled at that, and the hand on his face moved to the back of his neck as the other was placed under his chin; catching any spills as she helped him drink ice water through a straw. He’d been unable to sort all the pieces and put them together; brain muddled and foggy as he tried to figure out just what happened, where he was, and how he’d gotten there. But he remembers -even through the flood of powerful painkillers and sedation being pumped into him- the panic that he'd felt. Asking where his wife was and being terrified that he’d be told she was dead; that his entire family was gone. The nurse’s voice soothing as she comforted him; assuring him that Esme was fine and had just stepped out of the room and would be back in ‘two shakes of a lamb’s tail’. Then that warm, soothing sensation had returned; that cloth against his forehead and one of the older woman’s hands gripping his. Exhaustion returning hard and fast; aided by the amount of meds being continuously run through his battered and broken body. 

“You mean I don’t have to have a tube in my dick anymore?”

A grin plays on her mouth. “Okay, so maybe not THAT lucky.”

“When DOES that day come?”

“When you get your legs back under you.”

“You mean when I can actually feel them again?”

Julie nods.

“And when is that gonna be?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Wouldn’t you if you’ve spent a week hooked up to all this shit?” He nods down at the central line inserted in his chest; clear tubing leading to a morphine pump and an IV pole. “Seven days of pissing into a bag and having strangers poking and prodding at you all the time”

“We’re hardly strangers anymore, blue eyes. We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know; you never call me by mine. You’re always calling me these cute little names.”

Well maybe I find you cute. Even in all your grumpy glory. I’m old enough to be your mother, you know.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Bless your beautiful little heart. But as much as I appreciate you feeding my ego, all the sweet talking in the world won’t save you from being poked and prodded at.”

He sighs. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really like people touching me.”

“You have a lot of kids for a guy that doesn’t like to be touched,” Julie teases.

“She’s the exception. It’s nothing personal against you. I just don’t like people getting that close. And I especially don’t like hospitals.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time avoiding them, huh? I can tell by some of the scars you’ve got going on there. You’re used to just patching yourself and getting back into the fight.”

“Pretty much. Too bad I couldn’t do that this time. Wish it was that simple; digging a bullet out or sewing myself up. This is a little beyond that.”

“Just a little. How’ve you been feeling today?”

“Alright, I guess.”

“You guess? What’s going on? Pain?”

“A little. My back’s been bugging me but it’s pretty tame compared to what I’m used to.”

“Any headaches?” she asks, as she tends to checking his blood pressure and temperature. “Blurred vision? How about unusual grogginess or memory issues?”

“You ask me this every day,” Tyler grumbles.

“And every day, I tell you the same thing. That there’s always a chance of that pesky skull fracture causing issues. So…?”

“Nothing. No headaches, no dizziness, now eye problems. And I already told you about my brain; I have memory issues to begin with. Permanent ones.”

“From the last time you were here.”

He nods. “My short term memory is fucked. It’s a brain injury. Or so I was told. From when I coded. Twice. Not enough oxygen going to my head screwed things up.”

“Must get frustrating.”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be. I’m not as forgetful as I was a few years ago, that’s for sure. But yeah, it pisses me off; when I can’t remember things. If I can’t remember what I did ten minutes or I have to ask my wife the same questions over and over again because I don’t remember what she said the first five times.”

“What happens when you get pissed off?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you deal with it?”

“A lot better than I used to, that’s for sure. Back when I used to drink a lot and I’d flip my shit and punch a hole or in a wall or freak out on everyone in the house. Now I just go and work out or go surfing or for a hike and that’s it. I feel better by the time I get back.”

“It makes you angry? When you have to ask the same things over and over again?”

“Not angry, really. It just annoys me. I guess it makes me a bit worried too.”

“Worried? About your brain or….?”

“Worried that I’m annoying her. That I’m just some messed up basket case adding more shit to her plate. That I’m just another kid she has to take care of. A burden.” 

“I highly doubt she thinks those things.”

“I know she doesn’t. She’s never made me feel that way. It’s just that I worry about it. That one day she’s going to look at me and I’m going to see pity in her eyes. And I don’t ever want to see that. That would kill me. If she started looking at me that way.”

“I don’t see that ever happening. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and it’s definitely not pity in those pretty brown eyes.”

“I just hate what this is all doing to her. Especially right now. Being pregnant; trying to grow a human being, keep it alive. And I hate that it’s taken her away from the other kids. That I’VE taken her away from them.”

“I doubt she sees it that way.”

“I hate that she has to take care of me. Has to feed me and wash my hair and my face and all that shit. And before you say it, no, I don’t want someone else doing it. I just wish she didn’t have to do it at all. I’m supposed to take care of her; it’s what I promised to do when we got married. For the rest of my life.”

“Didn’t those vows go both ways? I seem to remember it going both ways when I got married.”

“I’m the guy. I’m supposed to take care of her.”

Julie smirks. “She warned me about that. Your toxic masculinity bullshit.”

“Are you supposed to swear in front of your patients?”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

He grins. “No.”

“You really need to stop that, you know,” she gently scolds. “Thinking that way. Thinking it’s your duty to protect and provide and that she’s some weak little creature that you have to coddle. Because if this last week has shown anything, it’s that she is definitely weak. Little, yes. But not weak.”

“Believe me, I don’t see her that way. At all. She’s the strongest, toughest person I’ve ever met. I know what she’s capable of. I saw it...I experienced it...first hand seven years ago. It’s not that I feel like I have to protect her. I WANT to protect her. Especially with the life we have. The things I do. The toes I step on and the bridges I burn. I NEED to protect her. And those kids.”

“Have you ever thought of getting out of that kind of life? So you won’t have to worry about things like that? Wouldn’t it be nice if you never had to worry about any of that ever again?”

“I don’t have that option. Of getting into another line of work.”

“Everyone has that option.”

“All I know is being a soldier and being a merc. That’s it. That’s my life in a nutshell. Those two things are all I know. And it’s not like I can go back to the military. I’m too fucking torn up and too damn old. And I’ve got a family to take care. One that’s going to get even bigger very soon.”

“Something tells me this is less about you needing money to put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, and more about YOU. Your personality. You’re the type that’s not mean to sit still for too long. You get bored easily. And then you start feeling like you’re stuck and you start to resent things. People. Even though you don’t mean to.”

“Since when did you become a shrink?”

“I read people. I always have. There’s an edge to you. One that says you’re a man that needs that danger. That adrenaline rush. That you’re not happy unless you’re getting those things.”

Tyler smirks. “How about you just stick to taking my temperature and my blood pressure and shit. If I wanted my head read, I’d go to a professional.”

“Is that something you want? Someone to talk to you.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Someone other than me. Someone who has experience with people like you.”

“Crazy people you mean.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. You’re not crazy. You have mental health issues, yes. But you’re not crazy. Do you feel like you are? Or that you’re heading that way?”

“I think YOU’RE starting to ask too many questions. Are you like this with all your patients or…?”

“You’re the only who is conscious and can carry on a conversation.”

“Maybe we should pretend I’m unconscious again.”

“You don’t like talking about these kinds of things, do you. About what’s going on in your brain.”

“There’s nothing going on up there. That’s the problem.”

“I think there’s more going on up there than you want to admit. You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal. You’re going through it. You’re going to be going through it for quite a while. So how about you make it easier on yourself and not add more to YOUR plate.”

“I’ll be fine. Mentally.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I will,” Tyler insists.

“I think it would do you some good. To talk to someone. Someone that has experience with people with PTSD. Someone that…”

“I think this conversation is done.”

“You know you’re only causing yourself more harm than good, right? That the longer you keep all that inside, the worse it’s going to be. You’re going to crash and you’re going to crash hard. And you’ll take it out on the people around you. The people that you love. That love YOU. Is that what you want? You want to get to that point? Where it’s your wife and your kids bearing the brunt of it.”

“Do you WANT me to ask for another nurse?”

“She’s worried about you.”

“Well she needs to stop. I’ll be fine. Once I’m out of Dhaka and I’m back home and I’m closer to my kids, I’ll be fine. That’s all it is. Homesickness. I just want the fuck out of here. I want to see my children.”

Julie perches herself on the edge of the bed and places a hand on his shoulder. “What if I told you that the only way you’re getting out of here is putting in so many hours. with a psychiatrist?”

“What if I told you AND the psychiatrist to fuck off?”

“The neurologist put it in your file. That the only way you’ll be released and sent home is if you log so many hours with one of your therapists.”

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “You’re kidding me, right? This is your way of tricking me into talking to someone.”

“There’s no tricks. I am telling you the truth. I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Why? Because you think we’re friends? You’re just someone that comes in and changes my piss bag and would wipe my ass if it had to be done. That’s it. We’re not friends. This is your job, right? Why do you give a shit about me? Who gives a fuck if I talk to a shrink? Just do what you’re supposed to do so I can get the hell out of here and go home.”

“You have a good life. You have someone that loves you and worries about you and wants you around for the long haul. You have five...soon to be six...beautiful children that adore you and need you. Don’t you want to be healthy? For them?”

“Of course I do. So help fix my fucking body so I can go home!”

“Calm down. You need to take a breath and calm down and…”

“Don’t fucking tell me calm down!” he snarls, and tears the blood pressure cuff off his arm and tosses it aside. “Don’t ever talk to me like that. No one talks to me like that.”

“If you don’t settle down, we’ll give you something to settle you down. Is that what you want? You want us to sedate you?”

“I want another nurse.”

“You can’t have another nurse. You’re not in charge of your care. You’re not the one making the decisions. Your wife is.”

“Then get her over here.”

“She’s taking a break,” Julie attempts to reason. “She NEEDS a break. You said it yourself; she’s trying to grow a human being and she doesn’t need anything else on her plate.”

“Don’t use my words against me. Don’t do that. That’s my wife. And I want her here. If she’s the one making all the decisions, then I want her here. I want to talk to her.”

“Then call her on the phone and talk to her that way. She doesn’t need to be getting a baby up and…”

“Get my wife here! I want her here! Now!”

“Okay…” Julie holds her hands up in surrender and slides off the bed. “...I’m going to go and call her, alright? I’m going to go to the nurses station and give her a ring and hopefully by the time I get back, you’ll have managed to calm yourself down.”

“I don’t want you coming back in there. Ever. Just get my wife. That’s who I want here. Not you, not any of your fucking people. Just her.”

“We’re here to help you, Tyler. That’s all we want. Just to help you. If you’d just let us…”

“Fuck your help!” He rages, wrapping his fingers around the tubing that leads into the port in his chest and yanking it clear out of his body. Oblivious to both the blood and the pain that accompanies the violent action; the burning sensation that begins at the original point of entry and travels down the entire left side of his body. “I don’t need your fucking help! Get my wife! Now!”

Julie simply nods in agreement, then slips from the room and closes the door behind her.

*****

She meets Andy at the front entrance of the hospital; handing him both Addie and the key card for his room before heading inside. She’d already been asleep when Julie had called; still clad in the hotel bathrobe and a protective hand resting on Addie as she dozed as well. She hadn’t been given specifics; simply told there’d been an incident and that it couldn’t be resolved entirely until she got there. Panic had immediately set in. Worst fears grabbing a hold of her as she quickly threw on a pair of sweats and t-shirt; not even bothering with a bra or underwear and shoving her bare feet into her sneakers and tossing her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. All she could think about was what could have possibly gone wrong; the start of swelling on the brain due to the skull fracture, infection in one of the surgical sites, an unforeseen complication with his back or legs. The trip in the elevator seems to take forever. Nervously swaying side to side with still sleeping Addie clutched tightly to her; anxiety and fear clutching at her chest and causing nervous, unsettled fluttering in her stomach, eyes never leaving the illuminated numbers above the door as she mentally counted down each floor. 

It had been Andy that had given her some sort of comfort. Assuring her that nothing was wrong; at least not physically. But there had been an ‘issue’; a nurse mentioning the need for a psychiatric assessment and suggestion of an emotional breakdown and mental problems far beyond the realm of what staff in ICU were used to dealing with. She’s genuinely surprised it took this long for things to boil over. The warning signs had been there. The panic attacks that occurred even after the disorientation and confusion passed, the shockingly abrupt changes in his moods; from happy and joking around and carrying on a pleasant conversation to severely depressed and emotional beyond all hope of comfort. In the blink of an eye become angry and volatile; saying hurtful, cutting things and appearing mere inches away from flying into fits of rage.

She’s seen him that severe only twice before; all attempts at getting him help failing and being ignored and winding up with him putting a gun in his mouth with all intent of killing himself. She’d thought this time would be different; help would be easier to get if he was already in a hospital receiving care. But the specialists had pushed the initial worries aside, saying the up and down moods were simply due to suffering trauma and being immersed in a situation he had no control over. That the panic attacks were just a ‘side effect’ of either the confusion caused by meds or the PTSD being triggered by being in a hospital. No one had taken it seriously; brushing it off as a ‘non concern’ and telling her that she was overreacting; nothing more than a worried, scared spouse in way over her head. 

Julie had been her last resort. The one chance of getting him even the smallest bit of help before things got to the point of no return. And now even THAT’S failed. 

She’s angry. Not at him. NEVER at him. What’s happening to his already vulnerable and battered mind way beyond his control; the bouts of severe -almost manic- depression, the PTSD induced panic attacks, the hurtful things that come out of his mouth when he’s in a tailspin. The anger is reserved for everyone throughout the years -throughout his entire life, for that matter- that has contributed to where he is now. Physically AND mentally. His father for a childhood filled with abuse and inhumane torment, the horrors of war he’d experienced during multiple deployments in the Middle East, the injuries suffered on the job that have lead to years of chronic, near crippling (on some days) pain, the multitude of medical professionals that -instead of listening to her fears and worries- simply threw more and more meds at him instead of attempting to find real solutions. Even the stint in the psych ward had only scratched the surface; a small bit of help that had only come because he’d been so close -perhaps just minutes- from taking his own life. 

“What the hell happened?” She can no longer hide the irritation or the disappointment. Past being tactful and polite. The last seven days have been pure and utter hell, and she’s tired of it being one step forward and ten steps back. And she doesn’t even feel the least bit apologetic when she sees the way Julie blinks at the harshness in her voice. 

“I didn’t want to call you. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew you needed a break and I know you’re exhausted. You’re worn out and you’re stressed and you needed to get some rest. But he wouldn’t calm down and the only person he wants to talk to is you. If there’d been anyone else to call…”

“He’s my husband. I don’t care if you have to call me at three in the morning. He’s all that matters right now. And I don’t understand what could have happened in such a short period of time. I just got off the phone with him; he told me you were in the room. What the hell could have gone so wrong? When I was on the phone with him, he was fine. Considering. He sounded like Tyler; he was joking around and he was teasing me and he was fine. What the fuck?”

“I may have pushed him too far.”

“Too far doing what? What could you have been doing that you went too far with? He was fine. Until you got in the room. What did you do to him?”

“We were talking. I was trying to get a pulse on how he was feeling. Mentally, speaking. And it was going well; we were having a calm and rational conversation.”

“Tyler doesn’t just freak out. He needs a reason. Or his brain needs a reason, I should say. He’s not going to go just go from calm and rational to off the reservation. That’s not him. Not even on his worst mental health days. What did you say to him?”

“I may have overstepped.”

“Overstepped how? What did you say to him? And don’t lie to me. Because he will remember and he will tell me. And I’d rather you be the one to do it. Be honest with me. What did you do to him?”

“I mentioned that the neurologist wasn’t going to send him home if he didn’t log so many hours with a psychiatrist or a therapist.”

“Why would you tell him that? It’s not true. They haven’t said anything like that and I sure as hell would not agree to that. I said I wanted someone to see him; I didn’t say they had a right to force him to be here. I just wanted them to talk to him, that’s it. I didn’t want them holding them hostage until he played by their rules. That’s bullshit and you know it. That’s not what we agreed to. I didn’t say to lie to him. Why would you do that?”

“I was hoping I could convince him. To willingly talk to someone. To take some of the pressure off of you. I know you’re exhausted; mentally and physically. I know…”

“Your job is to take care of HIM. Tyler is all that matters to me right now. I trusted you. And you turned around and you lied to him? You tried to scare him into submitting to therapy? That is beyond fucked up. That you’d lie to him like that.”

“It gets worse.”

“How much worse?”

“I’m not proud of the route I took. Believe me, I’m not.”

Esme’s eyes narrow, arms crossing over her chest. “What did you do?”

“I used you and the kids. I told him that he was going to crash and crash hard. And that when he did, he’d hurt the people closest to him. That love him. That you and the little ones would be the ones to bear the brunt and pay the price. And why would he want to do that? Hurt all of you like that.”

“That is one of his worst fears. Losing his mind and hurting me or the kids. I told you that. That he’s scared of that. And you used that? You used US? To try and coerce him into talking to a shrink? You thought hurting him even more was the best to handle things?”

“Esme, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would turn this bad. I didn’t know he snap THAT bad.”

“I could have told you what a bad idea it was; to bring me and the kids into things. Why would you go behind my back and do this? Lie to him and try to force him into therapy? Use the threat of not being able to go home? You know how desperate he is to go home and see his kids. And you use that against him?”

“I didn’t think it would affect him this bad. I didn’t…”

“That’s exactly it. You didn’t think. I told you that he’d talk to someone if I was with him. You just had to arrange that. You didn’t have to lie to him and scare him into something. All you had to do was find someone that could help him. This? What you did? That is not helping! It made it worse. It made HIM worse!”

“And I’m sorry. I really am. I am so sorry.”

“How bad did he get?”

“Ripped out the central line; we had to put a couple stitches in to close things up. Took five people to hold him down to get a regular IV in. We were going to restrain him, but…”

“That would have made things so much worse. Do you WANT him to have a psychotic break? Because that would have done it.”

Julie frowns. “Of course that’s not what I want.”

“How is he now?”

“Calm. We gave him a light sedative through the IV line. We were waiting until you got here. To discuss what our next step should be.”

“There is no next step. At least not tonight,” Esme steps past the older woman, shoulder aggressively bumping into her. “I don’t want anyone going in his room. Not you, not another nurse. No one.”

“You think it’s safe for you to go in?” Julie follows as she strides quickly and purposefully through the ICU’s sliding doors and down the main hell. “He was violent with staff.”

“Tyler isn’t going to hurt me. He’s never hurt me. Not even at his worst. I’m not scared of him. I never have been.”

“There’s always a first time. And in your condition…”

“My husband would never EVER do anything to me. I have seen him in the darkest, most terrifying place possible. When I had to take a gun out of his hand so he wouldn’t kill himself. Not even then did he hurt me. He doesn’t have it in him. Not even when he’s like this.”

“If it comes down to it and he does act up again and threatens to hurt you…”

“He’s not going to. I’ve spent years with that man. And I’ve gone through hell and back with him many times. And I have never once felt threatened by him.”

“...we’ll have to take more severe measures. To control him.”

Esme pauses in front of the closed door to Tyler’s room. “Control him? He’s not a fucking animal. So don’t you dare talk about him like he is. He’s a goddamn human being!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t…”

“He’s scared and he’s in pain and he’s had decades of bullshit dumped onto him. His father, fighting in wars and having to see things and do things that only exist in your worst nightmares, the job and all the crap that comes with it. Just because he isn’t like everyone else in here...doesn’t have what you think is a normal, respectable life...doesn’t mean you can talk about him like that. No one...and I mean no one...disrespects my husband like that.”

“I meant control as in a medical standpoint. As in…”

“I don’t give a shit how you meant it. You have no idea what he’s been through. The things that have been done to him. And I’m not just talking now. I’m talking about his entire life. None of you in here could ever understand it and you sure as hell could never survive it yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“I don’t want anyone coming into his room unless I need help or I say it’s okay. Do I make myself clear?”

“Esme, I…”

“Do I make myself clear?” she forcibly repeats, and then waits for a simple nod in confirmation before slipping into the room. Struggling not to slam the door angrily behind her.

***

The room is illuminated solely by the moonlight streaming through the window, and at first she wonders if she’s too late and he’s already fallen asleep; succumbing to whatever drug they had forced into him. His head turned away from her; his profile soft and peaceful, even with the rows of scars and the numerous bruises and superficial wounds that mar his face. Breathing slow and steady; hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. Regardless, she errs on the side of caution; not wishing to startle him by ‘sneaking up’.

“Hey sleeping beauty, ” her voice is calm and quiet as she approaches the bed. “You awake or…?”

The sigh is long and shaky, but there’s a small, soft smile on his face when he turns his head towards her. "I’m awake.”

“How are you feeling?” She puts down the railing on the bed in order to get closer to him, then pushes her hand through his hair and presses a kiss to his temple. “I heard you caused a little bit of drama earlier.”

“Just a bit.”

His voice is unusually soft and quiet; mentally and physically exhausted tinted with sleep and the effects of the sedation he’d been given. But it’s his face that hurts the most; not the bruises or the swelling or the soon to be removed stitches. She’s seen him in worse condition; in a medically induced coma with a breathing tube down his throat and wound vac attempting to heal the bullet hole on the side of his neck. It’s how lost he looks; so scared and vulnerable. As if he’s already admitted defeat. 

“Are you okay now? Are you feeling better?”

“Now that you’re here I am.”

“Sweet talker,” she chides, laying a hand on his cheek and placing a tender kiss on his lips. 

“I was wondering if you’d even show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“They told me they weren’t even going to call you. That you told them not to.”

“You believed them?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. My heart knows one thing, but my brain is telling me something else.”

“I would never, EVER, tell them that. Not when it comes to you. I don’t know why they would say that, but it’s not true. All I care about is how you’re doing. Of course I’d want to know if something happened. Are you okay now?”

“I wanna go home.”

“I know you do. And I want that too, believe me. That’s all I do want. You well enough to get the hell out of here.”

“Is it true? That they won’t let me go home if I don’t see a shrink? Do so many hours with me? Is it true you were okay with that?”

“No Tyler, that’s not true. None of that is true. I’d never do that to you. I wanted them to get you help. Sooner, not later. But I didn’t agree to any of that. That was never brought up to me, and I’d never be okay with it. I don’t know why they would say that to you, but it’s not true. You believe me, right?”

He nods. “I believe you. You have to find a way. To get me home. I need to go home.”

“I can’t just do that. I can’t just tell them that’s what I want. It’s not that easy, baby. I wish it was.”

“You’re in charge, right? Of what happens to me? What they can do?”

Esme nods.

“You need to find a way. Please. You have to.”

“Okay,” she agrees, and presses a series of soft pecks across his forehead and over his eyes, down his nose and then onto his lips. “I’ll find a way. I promise. First thing in the morning, okay? There’s nothing I can do tonight.”

“You’ll stay? With me?”

“Of course I will. Where else would I go?”

“Where’s Addie?”

“Andy took her back to the hotel. He’ll bring her in the morning so you can spend some time with her. Sound good?”

He nods. “Sounds good.”

“For now, why don’t we get you out of this?” She tugs at the blood stained hospital gown. “That’s the least they could have done; got you into something clean. I brought some t-shirts yesterday; I figured once you got a regular IV, you’d rather wear real clothes.”

“I already got the stupid thing in me,” he nods down at his left hand; layers of tape holding the IV in place. 

“Did you forget?” She lightly tousels his hair and moves away from the bed; journeying over to the small closet on the far side of the room. “ I know how to disconnect it. The home care nurse showed me; after our first trip to Dhaka.”

“Are you supposed to be disconnecting it?”

“Are you going to tell on me?” she asks, and then selects a well worn and faded t-shirt from a backpack she’d stored in the closet the day before.

He manages a grin. “I’m no snitch.”

“I even brought your favourite one,” she says, and holds the item in question by the shoulders, turning it to face him. Maroon in color, with Emery surfboards name and logo emblazoned in black across the front. 

His smile, although still sleepy, is much broader now. “That’s the one you and Millie got me. For my first Father’s Day.”

“This thing has seen better days. It’s got holes and it’s frayed all around the neck and the sleeves. Not to mention five babies have all drooled and puked up on it. It’s practically even see through.”

“You were still pregnant with the twins. Big time pregnant.”

“That’s what I get for having babies with a giant.”

“You were so beautiful. You always are. With every baby.”

“You are so smooth,” she teases, and leans down to press to a kiss to his lips. “Even when you’re doped up.”

“It’s true. You are. Most beautiful pregnant woman ever. Most beautiful woman PERIOD.”

She grins. “You’re laying it on pretty thick, Mister Rake. What have you done?”

“Threatened to kill a few people.”

“Well you didn’t follow through on it and that’s all that matters. Maybe now they’ll realize that sometimes your bite IS worse than your bark. It’s what they get, if you ask me; for not listening to a damn word I said. Hold this…” she playfully tosses the tee on top of his head, then tends to disconnecting the IV and med lines and sealing them off with the discarded caps sitting on the nightstand. 

He peels the shirt from his face. “She just kept pushing and pushing. She wouldn’t let it go. The whole thing about the shrink and why didn’t I want to do it? Why would I just keep being this way and then eventually snap and take it out on you and the kids?”

“She thought was handling it the right way. I guess she thought scaring you into agreeing was the right way to go. And I’m sorry. That she said those things. I never told her to say any of that.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s not you. Saying shit like that. That’s not who you are. You love me too much.”

“Oh you’re finally admitting that are you? Only took you seven years. Your arm going to be okay? Getting a shirt on?”

He nods. “I can’t feel a damn thing right now. That must be some good shit they’re giving me.”

“Some of the best there is.” She tends to the ties at the back of his neck, then removes the blood stained garment towards the hamper at the end of the bed. “Looks pretty good,” she says, as gentle fingertips gingerly examine the stitches -thirty five in total- that grace his left shoulder blade. “How’d you do that again?”

“Caught it on some metal. After someone tried to shoot me in the head.”

“I’ll take you being stitched up over THAT any day of the week.” She tugs the t-shirt over his head, then lends minimal assistance as he cautiously moves his arms into the holes on the sleeves; patiently waiting he completes the task himself before pulling the garment down over his chest and torso. “Better?”

“Better. You know, I kind of like you taking care of me.”

Esme grins. “Those MUST be some strong drugs. You admitting that.” She combs her fingers through his hair, placing a kiss to the bridge of his nose before resting her forehead against his. “Tired?”

“A little.”

“You should get some sleep. I know what you’re like after an episode. How exhausted you get.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I already said I would. You don’t have to worry; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” she promises.

“I’m sorry,” his voice quivers with emotion.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

She pulls back to look at him. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

“It’s been a hell of a shitty seven years.”

“No. It hasn’t. It’s been a pretty amazing seven years. Your brain only wants you to remember the bad stuff. You’re not the horrible person it’s making you out to be, Tyler. You’ve never been that person. And I wish I knew what to do to get it to stop telling you those things. But you’re not the monster it says you are. And we’ve had more great times than really bad times. You’ve made me smile a lot more than you’ve made me cry.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I am. And you helped make five beautiful, incredible little human beings. You’re an amazing daddy. And an even better husband. Your brain can’t take that all away. One day it won’t be telling you those things. I promise.”

“I don’t want to be this way.”

“I know you don’t. And once we’re home, we’ll get you help. Real help. But you have to work with me okay? You need to cooperate even just a little bit, alright?”

“Alright.”

“If I’m there, you’ll talk to someone?”

“If you’re there, I’ll do it.”

“I just want you to be okay. Not just your body, your brain too. All of you. And we’ll get you there. Even if it’s baby steps at first.”

“Why do you stay? With me? Why do you put up with all of this?”

“I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that a good enough reason? I love you. Simple as that.”

“Even when I want to die?”

“Do you? Want to die?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“Is that what your brain is telling you? That you want to die?”

He nods.

She struggles to keep the emotion out of her voice. Throat impossibly tight. Heart breaking. “It’s telling you that right now?”

Another nod.

“You need to fight that, okay? You need to ignore that voice that’s telling you that.”

“You’d be better off. You and the kids. Without me.”

“No. We wouldn’t. Life suck without you in it,” she holds his face in her hands, placing her lips against his forehead. “You are so loved, Tyler. You are so loved and we would miss you so much. I don’t want to do this without you. Raise these kids. Especially with a new baby on the way. And I know you want to see that baby. How much you want to see all your babies grow. So you need to ignore that voice. The one that’s telling you all of this.”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “It’s so fucking hard.”

“I know,” she pecks his lips. “But we’ll get you through this. I promise. You don’t have to do this alone. But right now, you need to rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll even rest with you. You promise you’re not a snitch?”

“I promise.”

Kissing him once again, she toes off her running shoes, then turns off the light behind the bed before putting the railing down. “This is the one time I’m glad you’re a human furnace,” she says, as she slides in next to him, careful to mind the IV tubing. “There’s not enough blankets in this room . Just keep your damn cold feet to yourself.”

“Well I can’t really move the right, so…”

She moves onto her side, snuggling as tightly as she can into him, head on his chest and a hand on his stomach. “Good? You comfy?”

His hand finds the middle of her back. “Very.”

“If you snore, this might be night I smother you with your pillow,” she teases.

“I’ll try my best not to,” he promises. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, and tips her face up towards him for a goodnight kiss. 

She relaxes under the weight of his chin upon her head, and finds herself comforted by the steady beat of his heart; feeling the way his body rises and falls with each breath and how his fingertips soothingly glide up and down her back. And she waits until she knows he’s asleep; those breaths becoming shallow and evening out, his hand stilling before falling limp at his side. It’s a small bit of normalcy; welcome and needed. And she nestles her face further into chest and closes her eyes.


	94. Chapter 94

Despite hours of quarrelling and debating with specialist and hospital officials and the eventual threat of getting lawyers involved, it had taken Anil stepping in to get things accomplished. She had been at her wits end. Starting the fight had been the easy part; adamant and passionate and refusing to let anyone belittle her or demean her own experience of spending years living and loving someone with PTSD and various mental health issues. But the longer it dragged on and the more they pushed back, her own ire and frustration quickly set in; calm yet stoic demeanour turning into moments of hostility and simmering rage towards the people refusing to listen to her. Eventually that anger turned into hopelessness; moments of very open and public weeping as she begged and pleaded with those in charge to do the right thing. None of it had seemed to matter. Ears -and hearts for that matter- closed off to her desperation. Calling her fears ‘irrational’ when she said that even a single day longer in Dhaka would destroy her husband; she wouldn’t lose him to the damage done to his body, but to the destruction of his mind. They’d called her irrational. Immature. She didn’t have the life experience to ‘know such things’. Stating that she had zero semblance of a medical degree or any real knowledge of the ‘human mind and body’ and therefore her opinions were irrelevant. And she’d argued that it wasn’t opinions driving her; it was seven years of loving someone that goes to war with their own mind every single day. She’d seen him at his worst; taking a gun out of his hand when he’d fully intended on using it to kill himself. If anything should overrule the advice of medical professionals, it should be someone with first hand experience of caring for someone who has been in the darkest and deepest recesses of their own personal hell.

Eventually she’d caved in. Not usually one to surrender easily or quietly, admitting defeat had been a necessity; her love for her husband far more powerful than her stubbornness and tenacity. A younger, less mature Esme -the one who refused to let anyone bruise her pride- would have kept up the fight; battling tooth and nail until she finally got her way. But with the situation already too dire, it had been time to move on to Plan B. Too much time had already been wasted thanks to the incompetence and arrogance of hospital staff; with each passing hour his depression only growing more intense. There were no smiles anymore; not even a single attempt. No conversations aside from simple yes or no answers; no teasing comments or smart ass remarks or even a hint of the real Tyler coming to the surface. He was rapidly becoming a shell of his former self; sleeping more than he was awake, refusing to eat, and not even the return of the feeling and mobility in his legs-albeit lessened for now- enough to get him to cheer up. He simply had no fight left; a heartbreaking thing to witness when coming from a man so strong and brave who’d spent his nearly entire life protecting and fighting for others. And she knew, if she allowed him to stay there any longer, he would be lost; he’d succumb to that darkness and his brain would finally defeat him.

Anil had immediately come to the rescue. Meeting with her video chat; allowing her to rant and rave at first and sob uncontrollably as she spoke of her worst fears and her utter desperation. Speaking in that calm, soft tone of his; so much compassion in those dark eyes and in those gentle smiles and his reassurances that things were going to be okay. He’d do whatever it took to help; he’d step on toes and burn bridges and ruin working relationships if he had to. She had seen that same personality in his brother; the way he’d fought so valiantly to protect his family and eventually her and Ovi, giving everything he had to try and get them across the Sultana Kamal Bridge. She’d known Saju for less than an hour; wanting to hate him for the lives he’d taken in the woods -and for coming close to taking hers- but simply unable to do so. Their conversation had been brief, but it had been life changing; listening to him -with so much love and passion- talk about Neysa and Aarev and how Mahajan had threatened to kill them both if he didn’t get Ovi back. He hadn’t been a man out killing for sport of enjoyment or money; he’d been a man acting out of pure desperation.

Years later, she FULLY understood why he’d done the things he had. Becoming a parent had opened her eyes entirely and enabled her to REALLY see his situation. That powerful, unconditional love for her children and the need and the want to protect them at all costs driving Saju’s predicament home. She remembers his eyes most of all; even seven years later. There’d been a kindness in them; the way they sparkled and shone when he talked about his family, the compassion in them when she’d opened up about how angry she was with him for what he’d done to her colleagues, but how scared she was and how she wasn’t ready to die. That she’d finally found something...someone...that made her feel like she mattered. And she wasn’t ready to give them up. He hadn’t asked questions and had simply just listened; quietly and patiently, those dark eyes taking in her face as she spoke. He’d been a good man. A damn good man. Someone strong and brave that deserved so much better than the cards he’d been dealt. And the end he’d been given.

Anil had stepped up. In the same way his brother had seven years ago. Doing whatever he had to to correct a situation and protect someone that wasn’t capable of doing so for themselves. Within two hours of speaking to the CEO of the hospital, a return to Australia had been arranged. A private jet equipped with the proper medical devices and both a doctor and a nurse would be made available, as would a bed in the step down unit at a private hospital in Cape Tribulation, only an hour and a half from home. 

It’s shortly before eight in the morning when she arrives home; in the back of a luxury sedan that Anil had sent for her and the guard that had been watching since day one at the hospital in Dhaka. They had originally arrived in Australia the evening before, and she elected to spend the night in Cape Tribulation; allowed to hunker down in that spacious private room and provided with much a comfier bed for herself and a crib for Addie. The atmosphere is far more positive and friendly; nothing but smiles and soft tones and gentle hands. It had been a relief just to hear the accents and those common and well used and loved phrases that she’s gotten used to but never fail to brighten her spirits. 

The view had been breathtaking. That expanse of near white beach and the sky painted vivid shades of purple, orange and pink; the sunset magnificent and causing the ripples in the water to glisten. It was the first time in days he’d actually smiled; glad to be home and to see familiar sights. She could only imagine how enormous his relief had been; being back in Australia giving him a sense of normalcy and probably a feeling of safety and security. And he’d actually initiated conversation; commenting on how beautiful the sight was, then giving that mischievous little grin and lovingly correcting her when she assumed he meant the sunset when in fact, he’d been talking about HER. Watching as she stood at the window with Addie, listening to her talk to the baby about the sunset and the beach and how good it was to see those things again. About how much she’d missed them; the sound and the smell of the ocean and even the feeling of the sand between her toes.

The tears had come the second the car turned onto that long stretch of gravel road. The joy of being so close to her front steps and mere minutes away from being reunited with her children combined with a profound sense of sadness. The harsh realization that she’s returning alone; that she’ll be walking through the front door while her husband begins the final -yet long and arduous- journey towards both physical and mental healing. There hasn’t been a time since they started a family that he HASN’T returned home from a job; exhausted and bruised and battered and nursing a broken bone or two, but very much mobile and eager to get on with the normalcies of life. And while she’s very grateful that he’s alive and she has renewed optimism for full healing, it is still bittersweet. Not having that warm, solid body to snuggle up to at night or being able to indulge in those sleepy, quiet conversations that often stretch into the early morning hours. It’s always been their ‘thing’; starting that first night in Dhaka and lasting the past seven years. There’s always something to talk about; never tiring of each other's company or growing weary of the sound of one anothers voices. Some of their best talks have come during those sessions; when he’s sated and spent after making love and his guard seems significantly lowered and he’s more apt to speak from the heart. There’s softer moments; lighthearted teasing and giggling and reminiscing on wonderful moments past. 

She longs to have that back. To have HIM back. The Tyler that existed before all of this ever happened. The one that laughs easily and whose eyes sparkle and shine whenever he spends time with his children who never hesitates on kissing and hugging her or telling her he loves her. She misses him and everything about him; those ‘quirks’ that define the very essence of who he is . How he is when he’s in his happy place with his family; content and calm and his face at peace while he sleeps, those monsters and demons from a troubled past very rarely haunting him. There’s so many small things that make him who he is; that tenderness he displays when feeding or changing Addie and the way his voice sounds different when speaking to her, the attention and affection he showers upon the other children and how he relishes his role as a daddy. The way -while they sit outside in silence after the kids have gone to bed- he’ll suddenly reach over and take her hand; pressing kisses to the inside of her wrist and all of her knuckles before lacing his fingers through hers. How...on those days they’re both up before any of the kids...she’ll wander into the kitchen while he’s making coffee and he’ll smile at the sight of her in one of his shirts; kissing her as if it was the very first time all over again.

The tears come in earnest when they pull into the driveway. Everything exactly the way they’d left things before heading to Mumbai; both truck and SUV parked outside, empty potting plants and multiple bags of soil against the closed garage doors, waiting for her to finally get around to the planting she’d been wanting to do for weeks. Her emotions are too raw for the sight to be a total relief ; so much happening in just over a month, never getting the chance to fully sit still or catch her breath. Even in sleep her brain is always on the go; first the fear and the worry surrounding the threats against her family and the job itself, followed by the stress following on the heels of all the damage done to Tyler’s body and mind. She’s happy to be home; familiar sights and sounds and even smells. But her heart is still so heavy.

“Are you alright, miss?” The driver asks, and she’s suddenly aware of the idling engine and his concerned eyes watching her through the rear view mirror. The armed guard -currently sitting in the front passenger seat- peering at her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

For some reason, the simple display of care and compassion makes her cry even harder. Reducing her to a blubbering, sobbing mess and prompting the guard to lean into the backseat to give her a well meaning but entirely awkward pat on the shoulder. It’s a culmination of so many things; a nearly three week separation from her children, the initial -and profound- fear that her husband wouldn’t make it out of Dhaka alive, followed by the bittersweet relief that while he’d eventually recover, the road to get there would be long and excruciatingly painful. And now the happiness of being home overshadowed by new worries; afraid that while the physical injuries may not have been enough to claim him, his own brain might succeed.

The guard carries her bags to the door, then gives her a soft, reassuring smile before stepping forward and wrapping her in a one armed hug. He’s been good to her, and vice versa. He’d follow at a respectful distance; always mindful to never appear as if he’s wandering into her personal space or intruding on her conversations. And she’d treat him to coffees and lunches; indulging in mindless chit chat while sitting outside yet never getting too personal or even taking things to a first name basis. His job is now complete; he’d kept her safe in Dhaka and had gotten her to Australia and all the way to her front door. He’ll join the team of guards assigned to the hospital in Cape Tribulation; either on the ward itself or keeping an eye on the front entrance or the grounds itself. Despite all the times she’d complained about his presence, she finds herself thinking about how she will actually miss him. Those random conversions giving her an escape from the harsh reality of the situation and the sense of security that he provided her with at quite possibly the most trying time. And she stands on the front porch and watches him go, giving her own smile and a wave goodbye as the car pulls away from the curb.

Despite her best attempts to sneak in, the mere click of the front door opening alerts Saju and Mac to an unexpected arrival; their loud, raucous barking accompanied by the patter of paws against laminate flooring as they race towards the front of the house. She barely has time to set Addie -secure in her car carrier- on the floor before the furry bodies descend on her. The barking turning into those pleased whimpers and yelps as their wariness for a possible stranger turns into happiness at seeing the familiar face. And she drops to her knees, arms circling their necks as she allows them to excitedly lick her face and nudge their faces against her cheeks and the sides of her neck. She speaks in hushed tones as she scratches at those ‘sweet spots’ and ruffles ears and strokes under their chins, wanting to keep her arrival a secret from the kids; a surprise orchestrated with all the adults in the house.

“Go see what’s up with those hairy beasts,” Ovi’s says, busy in the kitchen as he packs school bags, followed by the loud squeak of a chair and the sound of little feet on the floor.

“Guys, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Tanner inquires, his voice growing closer. She can hear the soft scrap of his hand along the wall; sensory needs being met by the feeling of the cool, smooth surface. And soon his shadow is cast on the floor and she can see the tips of his toes before he comes around the corner “What is…” his eyes widen the moment he sees her; his shriek ear piercing as it echoes through the house. “Mommy! MOMMY!!!”

“Hey nugget,” she greets, as those little arms wrap around her neck. 

“Mommy,” Tanner sobs into her neck. “Mommy you’re home”

“I’m home,” she holds that tiny body as tight as she possibly can, showering his cheeks and the top of his head with kisses; fighting to contain her tears as she feels his own against her skin. “I’m home sweet Tanny.”

“I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. So much it hurt.”

He places his hands on the side of her face and pulls back to look at her. “You’re really here.”

“I am,” she smiles as gentle fingers run through her hair and search every inch of her face, as if needing concrete proof that she’s right in front of him. 

“Don’t cry, mommy. It hurts my heart when you cry.”

“Happy tears,” she assures him, and places a kiss on his brow. “Very happy tears.”

“Mommy!” TJ squeezes in beside her brother, and she gathers both of the twins in her arms. She can’t kiss them enough; their brows, their cheeks, their lips, the top of their head. “You’re home!”

“I’m home. I missed you guys so much. Look at you…” she holds them out at arms length. “...how did you guys get so big so quickly? I swear neither of you were this tall the last time I saw you. And check out that flow…” she releases her arm from around TJ’s waist and ruffles his hair. 

“Just like daddy’s!” TJ beams. 

“And like mine,” Tanner adds. “Now the three of us match!”

“Daddy is going to love that. You guys…” she pulls them back in for more kisses. “...I missed you so much.”

“We missed you mommy,” TJ nuzzles the end of his nose against her ear. “I’m glad you’re home. You’re here to stay, right? You’re not going anywhere?”

“I’m here to stay. Only time I’ll go somewhere is if you guys are with me or you’re in school. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” he says, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You smell good, mommy. I missed your smell. Your mommy smell. MY mommy smell.”

“You guys have no idea how happy I am to see you. How good it is to hug you and see your faces…” she pulls back and lays her hands on their cheeks. “..so handsome! You both look so much daddy! Especially with those haircuts. He’s going to be so happy to see you. That’s all he’s talked about for the last week and a bit; seeing you guys.”

“Can we see him soon?” Tanner asks. “We never got to talk to him. He was supposed to Facetime us but he never did.”

“Some things happened and he wasn’t able to. You read the email right? That he sent?”

“He said that he’d see us soon in person,” TJ says. “That he’d rather do that than Facetime.”

“Does that mean we get to see him today?” Tanner inquires. “Can we go today and see him at the hospital?”

“In a couple days, okay? He needs to rest. He hasn’t been feeling well. He just needs some time to adjust to being home, alright?”

“Is he sick?” TJ asks. “Did all his ouchies make him sick? Is that what happened? Or is another sick? Does he have a cold?”

“Not that kind of sick, buddy. A tired sick. He just needs some extra rest.”

Tanner’s hands fidget with her hair and her necklace. “Are his ouchies all better?”

“They’re getting better. They won’t be totally better for a while. He got hurt pretty bad. He needs a lot of time to get back on his feet. You guys will help with that right? You guys will cheer him up? Give him lots of hugs and kisses when you see him? Sometimes all we need to feel better is lots of hugs and kisses.”

“Is it his heart?” TJ asks. “Is his heart sick? Because he missed us so much?”

“That’s exactly it. You have no idea how much he missed you guys. He missed you so much. And he’s going to be so excited to see you.”

“Is it his brain again?” Tanner’s eyes fill with tears once again, the infamous pout playing on his lips. “It’s his brain that’s sick, isn’t it.”

“It’s a little under the weather,” she admits. “It’s hurting. More than his body is right now. He’s just having a hard time not being able to do the things he’s used to. That makes him sad; not being able to do things with you guys and his body not being like it usually is.”

“But his brain will be okay, yeah?” TJ presses. “Once he sees us? We’ll make his brain better, right?”

“It will certainly help it get better. But it needs some extra help. From the doctors. So if we help the doctors out by giving daddy lots of love, things will get better sooner rather than later. Make sense?”

Both twins nod.

“Mum!” Declan squeals, and aggressively shoves his much bigger older brothers aside in order to get close to her. “Mum mum home!”

She gathers him into her arms, loving the sound of those giggles and his ‘broken’ English and the way those little arms squeeze her as hard as they can. His hair - becoming a more vibrant red with each passing day- and is impossibly soft against her skin; the familiar scent of baby shampoo somehow so comforting. “I missed you, snuggle bum. I missed you so much!”

“Declan miss mummy,” he says, and noisily kisses one cheek, then the other. “Daddy home too?”

“Not yet. Soon. I promise.”

“See daddy?”

“In a couple days, okay? When he’s a little more up to so many visitors. He just needs some extra rest so he’s bright and bushy tailed when you guys visit. But he misses you,” she runs a palm over his hair and pecks his lips. “But he told me to tell you that he loves his Ginger. That he loves all of you. So much.”

“Do we have to go school?” TJ asks. “Can’t we stay home with you?”

“Mommy needs some time to get herself together, okay?” She pushes the wayward locks out hair out of the oldest twin’s eyes. “Just a little bit of sleep. But when you get home, we’re going to have pizza and tons of junk food for dinner. Maybe even go for a walk on the beach and collect some rocks and shells for daddy. We’ll get a special jar to keep them in and talk them to the hospital. So he can always have a little piece of you guys with him.”

“So he can look at them and think of us?” Tanner asks. “Then he won’t be as sad when he thinks of us?”

“That’s exactly it. The bus is going to be here soon. Go and get your stuff and I’ll take you guys out, alright? I know daddy usually does it, but you’re going to have to slum it and let me do it.”

“You’ll do,” TJ declares, and then gives her a noisy kiss before wrapping his twin brother in a headlock and dragging him towards the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Esme greets a silent and leery Millie as she hovers three feet away; school bag already perched on her back, pout on her face and arms crossed over chest. “Still mad, huh?”

Millie nods.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. But daddy was in a really bad way and I was having a hard time accepting that. I didn’t know if he was going to make it. And I was scared and I was sad and I didn’t want you guys having to be scared and sad too. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you, right? That I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” the little girl grumbles.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. And daddy couldn’t tell you himself. I’m sorry, Amelia. I really am. But I didn’t know what to do. I was barely holding myself together. I didn’t want to break your heart too. I didn’t tell you because I love you so much. Because I know how much you love daddy. How close you are to him. I needed time. To tell you. Please tell me you understand. You understand, right?”

Millie nods.

“I love you so much. And I’ve missed you. My heart hurt every day I was away from you. But I’m home now. And things are going to get better. Daddy’s going to get better.”

The six year old’s voice quivers with emotion. “You’re sure? That he’s going to get better?”

“I’m sure. It’s going to take a while, but I’m sure.”

“And I can see him? Soon?”

“In a couple days. He just needs some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I really did miss you. And I really do love you. So much.”

The wall around Millie’s heart finally breaks, tears spilling down her face as she rushes to her mother and launches herself into her arms. “I love you, mommy. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bubby. And I love you. With all my heart. You’re our miracle, remember?”

She nods. 

“Mommy and daddy’s miracle bean,” she teases, and manages to get a small laugh when she tickles Millie’s side. “You have no idea just how special you are. Just what you mean to me and daddy. You’ll never know. You’ll never know how loved you really are. How you saved both of us. How you changed everything. Changed US. For the better.”

*****

She waits until she’s alone to finally give in to her emotions; curling up in the middle of her bed as she sobs into her husband’s pillow. His scent lingers on the fabric; fresh and clean with that hint of musk and it’s familiarity somehow both comforting and heartbreaking. The tears come with a ferocity she’s never experienced before; her entire body violently trembling and bringing on both a headache and nausea. So many emotions involved; fear, worry, anger. The latter directed at those directly responsible for creating the current mess; those who’d participated in breaking her husband’s body, mind, and now his spirit. Amir Asif for starting it all off seven years ago; the sniper that initially took him down from behind, Farhad for wanting to impress an enormous piece of shit and for getting off that ‘lucky shot’, Mahajan for all the threats he’d made against their family and had stoked the fires of revenge. And Nathan. For the things he did and the things he said; every indignity, every disgusting word, every fear and worry that he’d put into an already tattered and vulnerable mind.

The physical and mental exhaustion soon settles in. And she’s teetering on the edge of sleep when she hears the bedroom door click open; smiling over her shoulder as Declan wanders in; dragging the comforter off his bed behind him, and uttering a ‘shit, asshole’ when it gets caught on one of the door hinges. He gets lonely when his siblings depart for school; no one to play or rough house with. 

She rolls over onto her side, grabbing a hold of the edge of the blanket and pulling it up onto the bed “What are you doing, little man?” 

“I sweep,” he announces, grunting and groaning as he swings one leg up onto the mattress and then fists the sheets and pulls the rest of his body up. 

“There’s no way you’re tired. I thought you didn’t like naps.”

“Sometimes. Daddy’s pillow?”

“Here,” she yanks the item out from under her head, and smacks a hand against it as she places it beside her. “You use it.”

“Tanks, mum.” With a dramatic sigh, he flops down onto his back beside her, then pulls the blanket up to his chin. “Goodnight.”

“It’s not nighttime, silly goose. It’s morning still.”

“Why sweep? Not night.”

“Because I’m tired.”

“Declan not tired.”

“Then why are you in here?”

“See mum mum.”

“You’re so sweet,” she moves onto her side, then lays a hand on the top of his head and pecks his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

She grins. “Impossible.”

“Mum mum sweep?”

Esme nods, and a little hand moves into her hair; fingers combing through her hair before tracing soft, random patterns on her forehead. 

“Mum mum?”

“Declan?”

“Kiss?”

She raises her head from her pillow; gracing his lips with a feathery kiss initially, then a much larger and noisier one that makes him giggle. The toddler rolls over onto his side, throwing an arm across her body and pressing himself tightly against her; head tucked under her chin. The tender, innocent gesture brings even more tears to her eyes. The warmth radiating off his body enough to lull her to sleep.

When she awakens the sun has changed positions on the wall; the sounds of the kids chattering and giggling drifting through the open window. Declan has long departed, but his comforter is tucked sloppily -yet lovingly- around her and Tyler’s pillow has been placed at the top of her head. At first she’s disoriented; a weakened and exhausted mind forgetting that she’d even come home. But the smells and sounds are there; the fresh air and salt from the ocean, her children’s happy voices. And when she raises her head to glance through the sliding doors and out towards the ocean, she finds both Mac and Saju at the end of the bed, watching her intently.

A knock comes to the half open door, and when she looks over, Ovi is poking his head into the room.

“Hi,” he simply greets, and gives a sheepish smile.

“Hi,” she echoes, and rakes both hands through her messy hair. 

“Is it okay to come in?”

“Yeah,” she waves him into the room. “What time is it? How long was I asleep?”

“It’s almost six. You were out for about nine hours. Give or take.”

“Jesus…” she yawns noisily and stretches. “...I feel like I could sleep for nine more.”

Ovi takes a seat on the edge of the bed, then tends to scratching the dogs under their chins and ruffling the fur at the back of their necks. There’s a sadness in those dark, soulful eyes that she hasn’t seen in a long time, and she sits up and reaches out to squeeze the back of his neck. 

“How you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” he says, and gives a small, unconvincing smile. “You?”

“Not good,” Esme admits, in hopes it will encourage him to be open and honest. “Not good in the slightest.”

“He’s that bad?”

She nods. “He’s that bad.”

Ovi sighs.

“Physically he’s coming leaps and bounds. He’s got the feeling in his legs back and he’s working on getting some mobility back and able to briefly weight bear using a walker.”

“That must have went over well. Convincing him to use one of those.”

“He wasn’t impressed, that’s for sure. He would have much rather crutches, but with the bad shoulder, those were out of the question. But there’s improvement; physio will come every day to work with him. It’s not easy with the right leg being essentially useless, but you know how damn stubborn he is.”

Ovi nods in agreement.

“And I guess I don’t need to tell you how happy he was to be able to pee like a normal person.”

He manages a laugh. “So physically he’s going to be okay?”

“As long as there’s no setbacks? Yeah. He’ll be okay. It’s going to be a really long road, but he’ll get there. They’re doing the surgery on the shoulder next week. So it will be the right leg AND arm out of commission for a while.”

“And mentally?”

“Mentally he’s not so good. They think he might have had a mental breakdown. Or came very close to having one. They wanted to put him in a psych ward, but I wouldn’t agree to it. It meant he wouldn’t be allowed visitors for two weeks; until they did assessments and got him on the right drugs and a therapy program. I couldn’t do that to him; keep his kids away from him. He’d think he was being punished and I don’t want him thinking that. It would just make him worse; not being able to see his family.”

“You did the right thing. Not letting them put him there. I think seeing everyone will HELP him. And I don’t think the kids could handle it; being kept from him even longer.”

“I think you’re right,” she sits up and swings her legs over the edge of the mattress, then moves closer to him. “He asked for you. Before I left this morning. He wants to see you.”

Ovi’s eyes brighten. “He does?”

“Why wouldn’t he? He considers you one of his kids. Loves you as if you are. We both do. And he wants to make sure you’re okay. With how things ended.”

“With my birth father, you mean?”

Esme nods. “He just wants to talk to you about him. He wants to know you’re okay. He NEEDS to know you’re okay.”

“I’ll go tomorrow. To see him.”

“Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t act happy to see you. He’s not exactly in his right frame of mind right now. He’s very despondent and depressed and it’s going to take a while to get him out of that. They’ve started him on meds, but it’s hit or miss when it comes to what will and won’t work. It’s going to take a lot of tweaking.”

“But it will happen, right? It will go back to normal? Well, HIS normal. His brain?”

“I don’t know,” Esme tearfully admits. “I wish I did. I hope so. I’m cautiously optimistic that he’ll be Tyler again. Eventually. That he’ll go back to being a huge smart ass that can’t resist making a perverted comment here and there.”

Ovi gives a small smile.

“He’s really bad. The worst I’ve ever seen him. And I’ve seen him in some really bad, dark, hellish places. But this? I’ve never seen anything like this. And it scares the hell out of me. It really does.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple and then drawing her tightly into her side. 

“I don’t want to lose him,” she says. “Especially to his own mind.”

“He’ll get through this. He gets through things. It’s what he does. Beats the odds, right?”

“Realistically, how many times can the same person keep beating the odds?”

“As many as they’re allowed, I guess.”

“It’s so hard seeing him like this. Just so broken and lost and like he has no fight left. And that’s NOT Tyler. He fights. With everything he has. Until the bitter end. And now it’s like he’s just given up. Like he has nothing left to give. And I can’t accept that. I WON’T accept that.”

“What can we do? IS there anything we can do?”

“Just be there for him. Let him know how loved he is. How much we need him. That’s about it. I can’t lose him. None of us can. Especially those kids. They need their daddy. And it would break them if anything happened to him.”

“It’ll be okay,” Ovi assures. “Now that he’s home, he’ll be okay. Eventually.”

“The change of scenery will help. I’m jealous of the view actually. The room looks out at the beach.”

“He’ll like that.”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen any sort of a smile in the last three days. When he saw the sunset last night. First time he actually talked since shit hit the fan at the hospital in Dhaka. It gave me hope; the old Tyler is in there somewhere. We just have to find a way to get that piece of him out.”

“We will. We’ll work together. Figure something.”

“You know, you’ve grown up to be a hell of a man, Ovi. You really have.”

“Thanks to you guys. Because you took me in and gave me a family. A normal life.”

“That’s all we wanted for you. A normal life. I hope in some way we managed to do that.”

He smiles. “You have.”

“And thank you. For stepping up AGAIN. For bringing the kids back and taking care of them. For loving them like you do.”

“You know how much I love them. They’re my brothers and sisters. They’re everything I ever wanted. Siblings.”

“And they just keep coming,” she chides. “We seem to like making babies around here for some reason. I’m so proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. Even seven years ago. You are so strong. Much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“Well, I’ve had two really good role models.”

She smiles and leans her head against his shoulder. “How are you? With what happened?”

“With my birth father?”

She nods.

“I’m glad he’s dead. I felt nothing when I found out he was. Now I’m just angry. Because he’s the reason Tyler is the way he is. It’s his fault. That this all happened. And wherever he is, I hope he pays for it. For all the hurt he’s caused.”

“You know it’s okay to be sad about it, right? He WAS your dad.”

“No. He wasn’t. My dad is still alive. And he’s going to stay that way. He’s going to be okay. I know he will.”

Smiling, Esme presses a kiss to his cheek and then snakes an arm around his slender waist; eyes closed as she rests her head against him. And neither of them speak; content to sit in silence, listening to the sound of the ocean and the giggles and squeals that float on the air.


	95. Chapter 95

He dreams of that squalid, ramshackle apartment in Dhaka. The combined smells of stale sweat, pungent body odour, and rotting garbage. Brilliant sunshine streaming through the tattered curtains and burning his weary eyes. The heat is stifling and the humidity near unbearable; beads of perspiration trickling down his temples and gathering on his forehead and the nape of his neck, t-shirt damp and sticking to his chest and the small of his back. Hands restrained in front of him; the rough edges of the plastic zip ties cutting into his skin. He’s calm and composed and weighing his options; counting both the number of hostiles in the room and the number of combined rounds in their weapons. He can guarantee they aren’t experienced shooters and have never ventured further than being a two bit street thug; half of their weapons are outdated or made from mismatched parts, and he knows hand to hand combat won’t be in their repertoire. It’s a small area; nowhere to hide, no chances to take him fully by surprise. It isn’t his first time having to deal with a crowd; countless occasions when he’s had to take on more than one foe, most experienced and just as quick (but not quite as skilled) as he is. And while he’d rather not be contained to such close quarters and do business out in the open with more room to move AND breathe, it should be fairly easy. Convince Asif’s thugs that they’ll get their money AFTER takes proof of life back to his own people, get eyes on the kid, and get the fuck out. After that, things will just fall into place; G will handle things on the outside and he’ll return to the apartment, tie up all the loose ends, and grab the package.

“Enough talk. Let’s get to business.”

The leader is a young guy; several inches shorter and full of bravado and way too cocky for his good. His mismatched and poorly trained posse and the restraints around Tyler’s wrists give him a false sense of both security and control; underestimating his temporary captive’s strength, knowledge, and skill and completely oblivious to his true intent. 

It’s both humorous and annoying. The confident chuckles, the mocking sneers, the swagger in their steps. He hasn’t even tried to hide his humour or his disdain; no holding back the smirks or the sighs or the fact that his patience -particularly when having cigarette smoke intentionally blown in his face- is wearing thin. He’s feeling the effects of not having both the Oxy and the booze in his system; the day before making a conscious decision to clean up his act. Operating under the hope that he’d found something -SOMEONE- worth changing for. Who didn’t see him as a ‘lost cause’ or look at him with pity or disgust. Who had -in the span of five short days- made him feel alive again; igniting feelings and emotions that he had long presumed dead. So he had made the sacrifice for her; cutting out his destructive vices and promising himself that he’d be the kind of man she deserved. For the first time in years he felt hopeful; no longer desiring to drink himself to death or to put a gun in his mouth or to have someone cut him down. Suddenly he had a future; or at the least the glimmer of one. Out there waiting for him, several miles away, is a beautiful, incredible woman that wants him just as much as he wants her; whose smile takes his breath away and whose mere touch promises to set his entire being -body and soul- on fire.

And now the only thing standing between him and her, is getting the kid and hauling ass to the extraction point.

He watches over his shoulder as the street thug saunters to the locked bedroom door; the slide of the latch seeming impossibly loud and grating. The guy is taking his time; movements intentionally slowly. And the last of Tyler’s booze and drug starved nerves are hanging by their final thread. 

The door swings open and suddenly he can’t breathe; a mix of shock and pure horror grabbing his throat and constricting his lungs. It isn’t fourteen year old Ovi Mahajan being held captive, but it’s HER. Her clothing ripped and stained and her hair crudely shorn tight to her scalp; a combination of both dry and fresh blood littering her badly bruised and battered face. Those dark eyes focus on him; normally vibrant and brimming with life and light but now filled with both tears and terror. Duct tape covers her voice, muffling her sobs and her screams and the way she pleads with him to help her. To save her. 

“I told you I’d get to her.” Nathan emerges from the far corner, a smirk curving his lips as he pats a gun -Tyler’s gun- against his thigh.

He tries to move. Valiantly fighting against the restraints around his wrists yet finding his body uncharacteristically weak; unable to snap the plastic. He attempts to launch himself towards the door, but discovers he can’t move; his legs not responding to the desperate commands being issued by his brain. All he can do is watch and listen; as Nathan slowly makes his way towards her and she continues to beg and plead with Tyler to help her. To do something. Anything. It’s in slow motion; the way Nathan runs his fingers through her what’s left of her hair and then grabs a hold of the short strands; yanking her head up and forcing her to look towards the door. Smirking at Tyler as he holds the gun to her temple and presses a kiss to her cheek before placing his lips to her ear.

“Look at him. Look how pathetic he is. How weak . He can’t protect you. He never could. He’s a failure. Just like his old man said he would turn out to be.”

He bolts awake at the click of the trigger. Heart pounding furiously in his chest and his chest heaving; sucking in deep, choking breaths. His entire body locked tight and trembling; sweat soaking his hair and t-shirt and burning his eyes as it drips off the ends of his lashes. The confusion and disorientation is brief; realization of his surroundings -and just how and why he’s there- quickly setting in. Normally this is the moment where his irrational and tattered brain would take over; the PTSD and his hatred for hospitals and everything they represent in his life sending him into a tailspin of panic and rage. But there’s relief instead. Being here means he isn't THERE. He hadn’t been back in that apartment in Dhaka; Esme hadn’t been beaten and tortured and Nathan hadn’t been holding a gun to his head. And while he’s in a hospital, he’s still home; he knows she’s alive and well and that none of Nathan’s threats and promises have come true.

“You’re awake.”

He glances towards the unfamiliar voice; a young nurse sporting a pair of purple scrubs and a brilliant smile, wandering through the door. And he frowns, distinctly remembering the nurse who’d last checked on him; older and very much a man. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Shaena.” The smile doesn’t leave her face, unperturbed by his foul mood. “Your primary night nurse. You’ll have me for the next four days.”

“Night?” Tyler scowls. “How bloody long was I asleep for?”

“Physio was in with you when I first got on shift; I didn’t want to interrupt things. The session looked a little...intense.”

“He’s an asshole. Told me I should be able to stand for longer than I already am. I got shot in the back; I’ve got a torn up knee and a goddamn cage on my thigh. And I have to use that stupid thing…” he jerks his head in the direction of the walker within reaching distance.

“And what did you tell him?”

“To go fuck himself.”

Shaena smirks. “I’ve been warned about you. That when you’re in a chatty mood you’re also very grumpy.”

“You’d be grumpy too if you were laid up like this. If you had one these goddamn things…” he nods down at the metal contraption encasing his thigh. “...making your life shit.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, I think the physiotherapist is an asshole too. From what I’ve heard, you’ve come a hell of a long way in a short period of time. Most would still be up in the ICU; tubes and wires coming out of every nook and cranny. You’re already standing on your own and…”

“Not for long enough, apparently…”

“...you’re off the IV entirely, For both liquids AND meds. Not too shabby, Kristoff.”

Tyler frowns.

“Kristoff. He’s a character in Frozen. Travels around with a reindeer. Has a hard on for Anna.”

“I know who Kristoff is. I have a daughter. She was obsessed with that movie for three years. Three very, very long years. I think I still remember eighty percent of the dialogue. I just don’t know why the hell you’d call me that.”

“That’s who you remind me of. No rhyme or reason; you just do. And you’ve got a bit of Prince Adam going on. If you grew your hair longer…”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Not a Disney fan, huh?”

“Not really.”

“So I guess you don’t want me calling you Kristoff, huh?”

“Honestly, I’m past giving a shit. I don’t care what you call me.”

“Do you care if I check your vitals?”

“Why do you need to? I’m alive aren’t I?”

“Humour me; the hospital tells me I HAVE to do these things. It’s sort of my job. First…” she reaches into the pouch at the front of her top, pulling out a small plastic cup of meds and then snagging a half empty cup of ice water from the bedside table. “...down the hatch.”

He reaches for the items offered, then looks down the tablets in the cup; various shapes, sizes, and colours. “What are these? The crazy people drugs?”

“First off all, we don’t use that word here. Second, you are NOT crazy.”

“Tell that to my brain.”

Smirking, she lightly raps her knuckles against the side of his head, then leans in close. “Kristoff isn’t crazy!”

“There is something seriously wrong with you.” He dumps the medications into his mouth, swallowing them with a gulp of ice water. 

“You aren’t, you know,” Shaena says, as she attaches the sensor from the ECG machine to his left index finger. “Crazy. And no one thinks you are.”

“I think I am.”

“Why do you think it?”

“My brain is all sorts of fucked up. I’ve got PTSD, depression, anxiety. Now something else no one seems to be able to figure out but I need to be hopped on on meds for. Doesn’t that sound like a crazy person to you?”

“Sounds like a person who has been through a lot of trauma in their life. That’s hard to see, and hear, and do some pretty scary things.”

“If you want to call ‘gruesome and brutal’ scary.”

She leans back against the bedside table, arms crossed over her chest. “You were in the military, yeah?”

“Long time ago.” 

“Actively serve?”

I’ve got a few tours or more under my belt. All in the Middle East. Mostly Afghanistan.”

“You were much younger then,” she observes. 

“Just a kid when I signed up. Fresh outta high school. Went from playing football and lacrosse to jumping out of planes and shooting people and blowing shit up.”

“I’m sure you saw some things. That you wish you never did.”

Tyler nods.

“And I can’t imagine killing a person is easy. Whether you have to or not.”

.“You get used to it.” 

“Somehow I don’t quite believe that.”

He just gives a small, tight lipped smile and a shrug. Over the years he’s tried convincing himself that he’s become immune to it; that taking another life is just a means to an end. Whether it’s to ensure his own survival or to secure a pay check; wanting to keep a roof over his family’s heads, food on the table and clothes on their backs. There’s been times where he’s dreaded the actual act; briefly hesitating before pulling the trigger, grimacing at the sounds of bones snapping under the force of his bare hands, feeling disgusted as he stood in the shower of a rundown motel room and scrubbed someone else’s blood from nearly every inch of his body. But other times he’s felt nothing; no regret, no guilt, no shame. Every once in a while, when dealing with the lowest of the low -child murderers, pedophiles, serial rapists- he actually enjoys it; getting a rush and thrill out of ‘taking out the garbage’. 

Then there’s the acts of revenge; few and far between but a necessity at times. He’s always tried to steer himself away from it; never having a real reason to want or to seek it. But there’s lines that shouldn’t be crossed; threatening his wife and his kids the one thing that stirs up that craving for blood and vengeance. And he’d gotten it; those men in the elevator, the one who’d attacked and drugged him, Farhad. He’d felt nothing but satisfaction when he’d killed them. And his only regret is that he’d let Nathan get the jump on it. That he hadn’t been the one to bring down a world of pain and hurt on the former Marine.

“Just the one?” Shaena asks, as the monitor beeps and she snags a pen and scrap piece of paper from the breast pocket of her top.

“What?”

“You mentioned you had a daughter. Do you just have the one kid?”

“No. I have five, actually.”

She pauses in the midst of jotting down his information, an eyebrow arched. “You have five kids?”

“And one on the way.”

“You’re going to be a dad of six?”

He nods. “Yup.”

“And all of these kids are by the same mom or…”

“Same mom. All five. Well, five and a half.”

“Were all these kids planned or…”

“Some were. Some were a bit of a surprise. A couple of them bigger surprises than others.”

“I need to hear more…” she perches on the edge of the bed. “...you and your wife...girlfriend...significant other…”

“My wife,” he confirms.

“...have half a dozen kids.”

“Not yet, but we will. Five or six months. We don’t know when number six is coming for sure. We just found out about that one.”

“Ages?”

“Why are you so hung up on this?”

“I’m fascinated by people who...especially in modern, crazy times...decide to have big families. I’m one of eight. I seem to be the last of my kind; no one is having a lot of kids anymore. You’re rare. Tell me about your kids. What are their ages?”

“Six, five, two and a bit, four months.”

“That’s only four kids.”

“There’s two five year olds. Twin boys.”

“And the other ones?”

“Oldest and youngest are girls. Two year old is a boy.”

“Names?”

He frowns. “I don’t mind telling you their sexes and their ages, but their names…”

“Okay, no names for now. Not until you get to know me better. What about your wife?”

“What about her?”

“Can you tell me HER name? I’m going to meet her as early as tomorrow and I’d kind of like to call her by her name. It makes this ordeal easier for people; gives them a sense of normalcy in a way. Makes them more comfortable around us. It’s what we want; our patients and their families to be comfortable. What’s her name?”

“Esme.”

“That’s pretty. You don’t hear that name much around here.”

“She’s not from here. She’s from Colorado.”

“Long way from home. How’d you meet?”

“Work.”

“You want to be more specific?”

“Nope.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Six and half years.”

“And your daughter is six.”

He nods.

Shaena grins and pats his hand. “You naughty boy. Don’t you know you’re going to hell for that?”

“Oh believe me, I’m going there for a lot worse things than premarital sex.”

"My kind of guy,” she muses, and slips off the bed. “Any pain?”

Tyler shakes his head.

“Gotta go to the bathroom?”

“Not right this second.”

“You know to ring, right? No trying to get out of bed to get there on your own. You’re not quite at that stage yet. And I’m sure the last thing you want is some sort of set back that keeps you even longer.”

“How long will I be there?”

“No way of telling. You’re getting that shoulder look at next week and the repairs you need are no joke. That’s a few days stay right there.”

“So maybe a week? Two?”

“Two is optimistic. Don’t rush things, okay?” She gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze, “Nothing good ever comes out rushing, especially this kind of stuff. Just take it day by day. You’re doing amazing so far. Slow and steady wins the race, right?”

“Yeah…” he sighs. “...I guess.”

“Get some sleep. Physio will be back bright and early.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey, I’m on your side. I think the guy is a total drongo. But he’s essentially your ticket out of here. That’s what you want, yeah?”

“I just want to go home. To my wife and my kids.”

“And we’ll get you there,” Shaena promises, and heads for the door.

“Can I ask you something else?” Tyler speaks up before she steps into the hall.

“Anything.”

“Am I being kept here for my body or my brain?”

Shaena gives a soft, reassuring smile. “We’re going to take care of both.”

****

It’s shortly before ten in the morning when she arrives at the hospital; Addie’s car carrier dangling from one forearm, baby bag slung across her body and a backpack perched upon shoulders. It had been a long night; tossing and turning as she wondered and worried about how Tyler was faring his first night alone, phoning twice for updates and then having to force herself not call again. Eventually she’d managed to doze off, only to be rudely awakened by a little foot connecting solidly with her mouth; TJ stretched sideways at the top of the bed and flinching and kicking in his sleep. Tanner out like a light and pressed tightly against her; his head resting using his twin brother’s back as a pillow. Soon two little bodies turned into four; Millie and Declan stirred by the thunderstorm raging outside and seeking solace and comfort in the ‘big people bed’.

She’s tired but the burden on her heart and her mind has been considerably lifted. The final late night call with the nurse in charge of his care putting her immediate fears at ease; informed that he’d been sleeping fine, agreeable -if not a tad grumpy- when it came to being woken for meds and vital checks, and relatively chatty. The nurse is everything Esme could have hoped; optimistic, cheerful, a ‘take no shit attitude’, and an excellent bedside manner. Her experience with mental health patients is a definite asset; brought down from the psychiatric ward to specifically work with Tyler. Esme’s main concern had been the disorientation and fear that often comes with wakefulness; the confusion regarding both his whereabouts and the state of his body and the realization he is in hospital bringing about horrific panic attacks. He becomes volatile and aggressive, both in words and actions, and she’d worried that the ward wouldn’t be able to handle him; that he’d end up over drugged and restrained and then shipped upstairs.

He’s in bed when she steps into the room. The top half of the mattress on an incline and his face turned towards the window, eyes closed and a forearm across his brow; hair damp, clad in a fresh t-shirt. He looks better; the colour back in his skin, most of the bruises and superficial cuts in their last stages of healing. He’s lost weight since the incident in Dhaka; face noticeably thinner and both his arms and his thighs less bulky. But he’s alive; his body healing at a much faster pace than anyone could have predicted. 

“Hey sexy,” she cheerfully greets as she steps around the end of the bed, then dumps the backpack and Addie’s bag on the small couch by the window. 

His voice is low and sleepy, but there’s a smile -a genuine one- playing on his lips. “Hey, baby.”

She stands at the side of the bed, skimming her fingertips back and forth along his forearm, then pressing a kiss to his lips. “How you feeling?” 

“Alright.”

“You got a headache?” 

He nods. 

“Any vision issues or dizziness or…?”

“It’s not the skull fracture. It’s just a headache. From the meds. The crazy people ones.”

She places cradles his chin in her hand, then squeezes his cheeks together. “Stop calling them that. You are NOT crazy.:”

Grinning, he removes his arm from across his brow and reaches up to lightly tug on a strand of her hair. “Crazy for you.”

“Those must be some good drugs,” she teases, and leans down to kiss him. It’s the first ‘real’ kiss they’ve shared since the ordeal in Dhaka; accustomed to nothing more than brief pecks on the mouth or cheek. It feels nice. Familiar in a soothing, comforting way. His knuckles skimming across her cheek, hand slowly sliding to the nape of her neck. Soft and lingering; the simplicity of closed mouth upon closed mouth.

“You’re bad,” Esme scolds.

“Why?”

“Kissing me like that.”

“I’m not allowed to kiss my wife?”

“Not when your wife is insanely hormonal and you can’t do anything about it. Look how handsome you are…” she places a hand on the right side of his face, pad of her thumb brushing across the top of his cheek. “...no more stitches.”

“Just more scars to add to my collection. You’re right; I DO think it balances my face out.”

“You remember me saying that?”

“I remember a lot of what you said when I was out. I heard you. Every single word.”

“Good,” she pecks his lips. “I meant all of them.”

“Even when you called me a shit head?”

“I didn’t call you a shit head and you know it. I said nothing but beautiful, loving, sweet things. Things that embarrass you if I try saying them while you’re conscious. I brought you a little visitor.”

“I bet it’s STILL not one of those hospital therapy dogs.”

She gingerly unbuckles a sleeping Addie from her carrier, then places her against his chest. “She missed her daddy cuddles.”

“I missed my little peanut cuddles,” he admits, cradling the back of Addie’s head in his palm and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “The others are okay? They must have been happy to see you.”

“They were. And it was amazing to see them and hold them. What wasn’t so amazing was getting dropped kicked in the face by TJ at two in the morning. He’s wild even in his sleep. I’m going to pick them up early from school on Friday and bring them for a visit. I booked a room at a hotel a couple of blocks away; so they can spend Saturday with you. You up to it?”

“More than up to it.”

“And I come bearing gifts.” She moves to the couch by the window, unzipping the backpack and pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants. “What do you think?” she asks, and holds the garment by the waist band. 

Tyler frowns. “What the hell are those?”

“What do they look like? They’re sweatpants. I had to go a couple sizes up so they’d be baggy.”

“Sweatpants with one leg cut off.”

“It’s so you can get them over the ilizarov.”

“Why didn’t you just cut BOTH legs off and make them shorts? Or better yet, just buy shorts.”

“I didn’t want your other leg to get cold.”

“Your logic is...astounding.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she tosses the pants in his direction. “I figured sweats would be more comfortable. And that you could wear pants and not have your junk hanging out and on display for all the nurses to see.”

“Oh I see…” he grins. “...you don’t want the nurses checking out the goods.”

“I don’t want ANYONE checking out my husband’s goods, okay? A little modesty would be nice, Tyler.”

“They don’t give a shit about my junk. One’s a man, the other one’s a lesbian.”

“Well I care about it. And I’m hormonal and crabby and you need to just suck it up and do this for me. Please? Wear pants?”

“It’s like being at home; you bitching at me to put proper pants on.”

“There you go. A little routine and familiarity to start your day. I got you five pairs; I’ll take them home and wash them as they get dirty, okay? You’ll wear the pants?”

“Baby, for you? I’ll do anything.”

“Thank you. I’ll help you put on a pair in a bit. Maybe we can go for a walk; get some fresh air. There's a nice little patio just down the hall.”

“I can’t walk that far yet,” he reminds her.

“It’s called a wheelchair, Tyler.”

“It’s actually called a ‘no fucking way, Esme’.”

“Don’t be grumpy. It’ll be good for you. Get actual sunshine, breathe in fresh air, smell the ocean.”

“I’d rather do that from my own backyard.”

“Soon,” she promises, and sets the stack of sweatpants in the closet by the bathroom. “The kids made you something. I wanted them to wait until they could give it to you in person, but they were very insistent.” She removes a glass jar from the backpack; straightening and tightening the shimmering red ribbon gracing it as she carries it across the room.

“The kids made this?”

“Last night.”

Placing a forearm behind Addie’s back, he carefully lays her along his left thigh, then takes the item offered.

“They wanted you to have something from home. That would remind you of them whenever you look at it. So sand right from our place, some rocks and shells, a couple pieces of beach glass. And I guess you can spy Millie’s personal touch.”

“Girl loves her glitter. This is awesome. I can’t believe they did this for me.”

“You’re their daddy. They don’t want you to be homesick. And they told me to tell you that they love you and miss you and can’t wait to see you.”

Sighing heavily, he clears his throat in an attempt to clear away the lump of emotion threatening to choke him. “I miss them. I just want to see them.”

“A couple more days,” Esme assures him, combing her fingers through his hair and placing a kiss against his temple, then takes the jar from him and places it on the window ledge. Making sure it’s completely visible from his angle. “I made you something too.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“A little surprise. Something that might cheer you up a bit.”

“Is it a dirty video? You ‘studying’ alone?”

“What is wrong with you? How can you even think about that stuff?”

“I’m a guy. Things are starting to get back to normal. Or somewhat normal, anyway.”

“It’s not a dirty video. Sorry. But I think it will cheer you up.”

“It cheered me up seeing two of my three favourite girls.”

“This might cheer you up even more.” She returns to the couch, opening the baby bag and pulling out one of the food containers she’d snagged from the kids’ stash. “Now that you’re able to eat REAL food, I brought you some.”

“Baby, I love you, but even at its best, your cooking isn’t considered real food.”

“I’m going to ignore that because beating you up in your already fragile state would not be very fair. Look, I had to swallow my pride and my disgust to do this for you. So if you’ve ever questioned or doubted my love and devotion, this should put an end to it.”

“I have never once doubted or questioned any of that.”

“This should put me in your good books for a bit,” she teases, and offers him the containers.

“Is it edibles?”

“You wish. You’re on enough drugs. Those would have you hallucinating for sure.”

He snaps open the lid on the container, a grin spreading across his face at the sight and the smell that greets him. “Are you serious?”

“The mere look of that stuff makes me nauseous even when I’m NOT pregnant, so I really sucked it up. Me and vegemite? We’re not friends.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“The things I don’t do for love,” she chides, and leans over to kiss him.

He lays a hand on the back of her head, pulling her into him and then pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Best wife EVER.”

****

He relents to the jogging pants but not to the use of a wheelchair; electing instead to both try his luck with the walker, and test his endurance and pain threshold. While the journey to the end of the hall is horrendously slow, he’s pleasantly surprised at how well his legs -even the one with the heavy, metal cage decorating it- are able to move. With and without assistive devices, weight bearing is going well; his legs relatively strong and steady despite the injuries done to the right and already losing muscle tone thanks to being cooped up in bed for two weeks. The pain is minor and being handled well by the drugs he’s being given on a regular basis; some tightness and discomfort in the lower back and around the actual bullet wound itself, but nothing he can’t handle. But it’s still frustrating; having to move at such a slow pace and even having to stop and catch his breath a handful of times. It isn’t a far walk, but it might as well be miles. And he can’t help but be disheartened by his alarming low level of strength and stamina; used to a vigorous and active lifestyle and fearing he’ll never get that back.

Esme’s presence helps; that calm and quiet and phenomenally patient way she’s had since the beginning of this nightmare. The way she keeps an arm securely wrapped around one of his, or how -when he has to stop and take a breather- she’ll lovingly rub his back or reach up to stroke his cheek. Or even stand on her tiptoes -those eyes sparkling and a smile curing her - and turn her face up towards him for a kiss. While he views his progress as agonizingly slow and frustration and anger eat away at him, the way she looks at him helps quell the negativity; so much pride and love and grateful evident in her eyes. In turn it makes him thankful as well; that a weird and dangerous situation seven years ago brought someone so amazing into his life. At a time when he’d all but given up on himself; a beautiful, five foot nothing woman that taught him what it was like to love -truly love- and feel it in return.

“Feels good, right?” Esme asks, cradling Addie in one arm as the other wraps round his bicep; both assisting and giving him a sense of security as he lowers himself onto one of the outdoor couches. “To see something other than the same four walls?”

“I gotta admit,” he grins up at her, a hand coming to rest on her hip. “The scenery is pretty damn nice.”

That smile again; making her eyes sparkle and her entire face brighten. He’d missed that smile. And being the reason behind it.

“You’re cute,” she says, and playfully ruffles his hair. “Any pain?”

“A little.”

“Nurse gave me these…” She reaches into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out a small container of pills. “You want to take them? I can go and get you some water.”

“I’m fine, babe. Honest.”

“Imagine being this far already? You got here on your own two feet. That’s amazing. I hope you realize that. How awesome that is. How awesome YOU are.”

“I’m doing the bare minimum. I thought I’d be farther ahead than this.”

“You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“And you’re way too good to me.”

“Well, you make it easy.,” she says, and places a kiss on his brow before settling down beside him. “And you deserve it.” 

He wants to believe that. That the last seven years have been nothing but good times. That he’s made her smile and laugh more than he’s made her cry; that he hasn’t used her willingness and propensity to easily forgive him to his own advantage. He hadn’t done it to intentionally hurt or manipulate her; he’d simply been a desperate man restoring to desperate tactics to keep his life intact. He hates to admit all the shit he HAS put her through; the setbacks when it comes to addiction, the lies he’s told (always under the belief he was was protecting her), the promises he’s broken. Those six months of sheer hell when he’d hit rock bottom and spent every day wondering when the divorce papers would arrive; drinking himself into stupors and missing visits with his kids and choosing to wallow in his misery as opposed to fighting for his family. Those are things he’ll never be able to forget. Or fully forgive himself for. But he can make it up to her. A little bit at a time. 

“Someone is hungry,” Esme comments, as Addie begins the desperate grabbing at her t-shirt, tiny face repeatedly rooting for the breast. “Someone takes after her daddy.”

“You mean in appetite or in how much she likes your boobs?” he teases.

“Both,” she laughs, and unfastens the buttons on her shirt, letting Addie search for -and find- sustenance. “I don’t think I can do this again. My boobs are getting tired.”

“I’m getting jealous. Kids see more of them than I do.”

“Yeah, right. You’re hardly starved for boob action.” 

He wraps his arm around her as she snuggles tightly into his side; fingers softly stroking Addie’s hair. “It’s beautiful; watching you feed our babies. Always has been.”

“Is that the drugs talking or…?”

“It’s me talking. I do have my sappy moments, you know.”

“Some of my favourite moments ARE your sappy moments. Would you be upset if I didn’t do this with the next one?”

“Babe, I don’t care how you feed them. I’m just saying that it’s beautiful to see. You have that extra bond with them. I like seeing it.”

“We have an extra bond, too. A lot of people don’t have what we have. I was thinking about it last night; how things are different with us. That we aren’t just spouses and we aren’t just raising kids together. We love each other but we actually LIKE each other, too. We’re friends. Best friends. Does that make sense?”

“Total sense,” he says, and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“You know what else I was thinking about? That first night in Dhaka. Seven years ago. Not the first time we...you know…”

“Bumped uglies?”

She laughs. “You listen to Ovi way too much. That’s what he calls it. But no, I wasn’t thinking about THAT night. But the very first night. When we just arrived. How you gave me the bed and you slept on the floor. How you didn’t think it was ‘appropriate’ if we slept in the same bed.”

“I can be a gentleman when I want to be.”

“I was pleasantly surprised. And a little offended. I thought maybe you didn’t like me.”

“Oh I liked you. I liked you a little too much. Or my dick did at least.”

“Is it wrong that I kept hoping you’d make a move?”

“What’s wrong is that you didn’t say anything. I can’t read minds. Maybe I thought you didn’t like ME.”

“Trust me, I liked you.”

“You know what I remember about that night? Or the morning after? Waking up and you were on the floor beside me. All snuggled in tight.”

“Did it freak you out?”

“Not really. It was nice. It felt good. I’ve always wondered if you told me the truth though. About why you were down there.”

“It was the truth. I DID have a nightmare.”

He grins. “I thought maybe you just wanted to cop a feel and make out.”

“Well I wanted to do those things too, but I chickened out. I don’t handle rejection well.”

“You would not have been rejected, trust me.”

Smiling, she presses a kiss to the underside of his chin and then nestles her head into his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. This is nice; being here like this with you. Fresh air, some new scenery , smelling and hearing the ocean. I miss you.”

She tilts her head up to look at him. “I’m right here.”

“No, I mean I MISS you.”

“In the biblical sense?”

“That too,” he admits. “I just miss you. I miss US. I miss being at home with you and just sitting outside and watching the kids. Or at night when we’re out there alone and we just talk. I miss it. I miss all of it.”

“So do I. But we’ll get that back. Very soon. You get your shoulder taken care of next week, you’re already doing physio, they’re getting the right meds into you, you’ll start seeing that therapist soon…”

“I don’t want to talk to a stranger. You know how I feel about that.”

“I know you don’t like people digging around in your head. And I get it, I do. That is so far out of your comfort zone. But you need this. WE need this. I’ll be with you. You don’t have to go through it alone, okay? I said I’d be with you every step of the way and I mean it. We’re in this together. Your shit is my shit, remember?”

He manages a small laugh. “I remember.”

“What are you worried about? And don’t say nothing. Because I know there’s something bothering you. I’ve spent seven years with you; I know how to read you by now.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I DO want to know. And I need to know. So I can do my part to help you. That’s all I want. To help you. To love you. Let me love you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What are you worried about? What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? Whatever is, you’re not going to offend me. I’m way past being offended by anything you say.”

Sighing heavily, he places a kiss to the side of her head.

“Tell me,” Esme encourages. “Whatever is bothering you, just say it. I want to hear it.”

“I’m worried,” Tyler admits.

“About what?”

“That I’m not going to go back to who I was.”

“Physically or mentally?”

“Mentally I want to be better. A better person. Physically…” he shrugs. “What if this is as good as it gets? Me being like this? What if this is it? What if this is where the progress stops and this is who I am. For the rest of my life. The rest of OUR lives?”

“We deal with it. We learn to cope. We alter how we live and we get on with things. This isn’t the end of the world. IF this is it, then we just keep on keeping on. Life won’t stop. We just make changes and we make different plans and set new goals and we just adjust. It could be worse, believe me.”

“How you figure?”

“You could be dead. And I’d much rather you like this than dead. And your kids would much rather you like this too.”

“Would they? You think they’d rather me be a totally different person? You don’t think they’d rather me like this than how I was before?”

“You’re their dad. They love you regardless. They just want you alive. That’s it. And they’re resilient; if things don’t go back to how they were, they’ll cope. They’ll learn a new way to live. Those kids are crazy smart and they have so much love inside of them and they’re so damn strong. They’re all you. Inside and out. Even Declan. Well, except for the hair. And his eyes.”

He gives a small smile. 

“That’s what you’re most worried about, isn’t it. The physical side of things.”

He nods. “I just want to go back to the way things were. What if I can’t be THAT dad? Or THAT husband? What if…?”

“I have all the faith in the world that you’re going to bounce back. I do. You’re going to go back to being THAT guy. You’re too tough and you’re stubborn NOT to go back to that. It’s just going to take some time. And it’s going to be painful and you’re going to get pissed and frustrated and it’s going to seem hopeless. Remember what it was like seven years ago? How angry you’d get? How you’d rant and rave and freak out when it seemed like you weren’t getting anywhere? Remember that?”

“I remember.”

“And look how far you got. The doctors told me to prepare a funeral. For someone I barely knew. And six months later, you were almost fully back on your feet and we were getting married. Three months after that, we had Millie. Did you really think any of that would happen? When you were on that bridge...after Farhad shot you....did you really think you’d make it out of there?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“It’s almost been seven years. And look how far you’ve come. How far WE’VE come. We’ve been married six and a half years and we haven’t even attempted to kill each other yet. I mean, we’ve probably considered it, but we’ve never ACTED on it.”

He manages a chuckle.

“We have FIVE kids. We didn’t know if we’d like each other enough to raise ONE together, let alone five. And we have another on the way. That’s pretty damn good for a guy that was on death’s door seven years ago. If you can bounce back after that, you can bounce back after this. I know you can.”

He squeezes her shoulder and kisses the corner of her mouth. “God I love you.”

“I love you too. You’re going to get through this. WE’RE going get through this. We’re stronger together than we are apart. You’ve always said that. And I’ve always believed it.”

Smiling, he brushes his lips against her forehead and pulls her even tighter into him; eyes closed as he rests his chin on the top of head. Enjoying that familiar smell and the press of her body against his; the way it slowly rises and falls with each slow, steady breath. Comforted by the warmth of the sunshine bathing his face and the roar of the ocean and those content sighs and murmur that Addie makes whenever she feeds. And while there’s the hint of renewed optimism and determination lingering just under the surface, that emptiness in his heart remains. Fear and worry that eat at him, fuelled by the dream from the night before. Nathan’s words echoing in his head:

“He can’t protect you. He never could.”


	96. Chapter 96

His mood begins to deteriorate the moment she leaves. The emptiness quickly returns; the room eerily and uncomfortably quiet, filling him with a profound sense of loneliness that settles deep within his chest and seems to travel to his very core. She makes everything easier to bear. Those soft, reassuring smiles and the love and pride that is always so evident in her eyes. The way she is so quick with words of encouragement and praises and how she’ll gently steer him in a different direction when he begins beating himself up or expressing regret, guilt, or shame. She’s become phenomenally patient; never snapping at him when he continuously asks the same questions because he’s already forgotten the answers. Her touch tender and comforting; laying a hand on his back or curling both arms around one of his to both encourage and aid, combing her fingers through his hair and pressing feathery kisses to his temples, forehead, cheeks, or lips. The tone of her voice never annoyed or condescending. She’s always been able to bring out the best in him; able to talk him down from a panic attack or when his anxiety acts up, soothing his temper when senses it beginning to boil, finding ways to appeal to his rational side when his brain is anything but. 

It’s been just shy of ten months since their return to Australia; three quarters of almost a year that he’d spent away from the job and completely devoting himself to being a better husband and father. During that time, he’d felt as if he’d been able to really ‘see’ her; suddenly having the time to sit back and notice all the things -big and small- that make her, her. Months of having nothing to concentrate on but his family; able to watch her...really watch her...in her role as a mother. Being there while your partner gives birth is one thing; being in awe of their strength and their selflessness and how much pain their body can actually endure. But witnessing them being a parent is a whole other ballgame; the way they nurture and love your children so wholly and unconditionally, the way the kids love them in return and look at them with so much adoration. Seeing them feeding a baby or supporting a little one as they attempt to take those first wobbly, awkward steps. How they tend to hurt feelings and skinned knees and bee stings. The long nights they’ve spent cuddled in a tiny bed with a feverish child or sitting on the bathroom floor beside them while they’re sick. The way they smile and laugh at the corniest and silliest of jokes or how tears well in their eyes when given an “I love you mommy” or a “you’re so beautiful, momma”. How they tape every piece of home and school made artwork on the fridge and then gush over them as if they’re the most beautiful things they’ve ever seen. After being there to witness her bring Millie -and all their children, for that matter- in the world, he never thought he could possibly love her more than he already did. And then he got to watch her -in that beautiful, understated way of hers- being a mother. 

He misses her. In a way far more deeply and powerfully than he does when he’s away from home because of the job. She’s the one thing making the current situation a little easier to cope with; the excitement and anticipation as he waits for her to arrive and then -even in the foulest of moods- enjoying every damn second of those few hours they get to spend together. Their banter still flows so smoothly and effortlessly; still able to get a laugh or a roll of the eyes out of her despite the stress and worry that’s been so prominent in their lives. It’s always come so easily with her; not just the playful teasing or the sexual comments or the flirtatious remarks, but those serious and introspective conversations that often last for hours. It’s a level of comfort that’s existed since the day they met; a level of ease and comfort that he’s never felt with anyone -especially a member of the opposite sex- before. Trusting others has never come easy to him; years of abuse at the hands of someone who was supposed to love and protect him, a wife who was consistently unfaithful, yet he was supposed to blindly believe the child she became pregnant with was his, ‘friends’ and teammates that either sold him and other mercs out and nearly led them to horrendous and untimely demises. But his intuition had never been as strong and persistent as it had when it came to her; telling him she was trustworthy and honest and wouldn’t judge him or look down on him for past choices and current vices. And that’s what had him opening up so quickly. Telling her things that he’d been keeping buried deep down for years; a gnawing and insistent agony that the booze and drugs managed to numb, at least temporarily. And she hadn’t looked at him with disgust when he’d told her about his son and the terrible decision he’d made while his only child was suffering; seeing tears of compassion and empathy in her eyes instead of horror or pity. After that, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was different. What he FELT was different. Not only able to trust in her, but to have faith in HER. Emotions and feelings he’d long thought dead suddenly coming to life; stronger and deeper than ever before. In those five short days, she’d made him feel alive again; gave him a sense of hope and optimism for the future when just a week before he’d been ready to put a gun in his mouth or to drink and drug himself to death. 

The Sultana Kamal Bridge had only cemented that trust and faith in her, and helped create a bond beyond anything he’d ever experienced before or had thought could ever exist between himself and another person. It’s not every day that someone -aside from fellow soldiers while on a tour- so willingly puts their own life on the line in a valiant attempt to save yours. Wilfully and without hesitation looking past their own fears and their own safety to either keep you alive, or at least ensure you don’t die alone. Even on the brink of death he’d been lucid enough to feel so many things at that moment. Fear of his own death being replaced by fear of HERS; initially angry at her for sticking around and even frantic with worry that her own ‘foolishness’ would lead to her demise. She had every opportunity to save herself, and he couldn’t understand why she chose not to; electing to stick around for someone as broken and damaged and unworthy as himself. As the minutes passed, so did the thoughts; relegating himself to certain death and finding both peace and comfort in her presence. Soothed by the touch of her hands and the way she so calmly and firmly spoke to him; the fingers that combed through his hair or the knuckles that scraped across his cheek and the way she cradled his head in her lap. 

It’s taken a long time to remember all of that; most things involving those final moments -after Farhad shot him- twisted and obscure; unable to say for sure if memories he was experiencing could be trusted or if his brain was just creating scenarios based on things he’d overheard during his stay at the hospital or had been told throughout the course of seven years. But it’s almost completely clear and vivid now; the things he was thinking, the things he was feeling. He can’t say for sure that it was love; five days is simply not enough time to develop feelings THAT deep and overwhelming. Maybe it had been the start of the process of falling in love with her; finding himself WANTING something more to happen between them. But he’d known -as she struggled to save his life- that what he was feeling was far different than anything he’d ever experienced before; it was all encompassing and profound and he was filled with an innate sense of sadness and loss at the thought that he might not get to discover just how serious things could get.

And he DOES remember her saying it to him; those three little yet powerful words. Yet it hadn’t scared him or made him nervous; feeling both relief and sadness instead. Glad that she was feeling the same things he was -even if he wasn’t quite THERE yet- but his heart torn clear out of his chest over the possibility they’d never get to build on those feelings. It’s why he’d fought so hard to stay alive; both on the bridge and in the hospital and during the months of gruelling and agonizingly painful physiotherapy AND drug rehab. Because he’d found something -someone- that made life worth living again. Who came into his world at the most unexpected and unusual time and hadn’t looked at him as if he were garbage when he’d spoken about his past and who’d stuck around during the scariest, most dangerous of amounts. He wanted to live. Most importantly, he wanted to do it with HER.

He can hear his old man now. A drunken stupor about never allowing a woman to make you weak. That’s what love was to him; the ultimate show of vulnerability and weakness. The one and only thing capable of totally emasculating a man. They’re meant to control and be the ‘king of the castle’, none of this sharing responsibilities bullshit or working together as a team or lowering yourself to things like housework and cooking and helping raise children. That meant handing over your power, and as far as the old man was concerned, once a man relinquished that they had nothing; might as well just chop their balls off and start dressing ‘like a broad’. If he ever so as much even showed an inkling of emotion, either the belt or the fists were brought out. And if he dared to cry out in pain and terror or he shed even a single tear, the beating would only become more intense and last twice as long.

It would have been so easy; to turn out just like him. To feed into all the bullshit; all the hostility and the hate towards women and the superiority complex. But it had turned him in the opposite direction. It had taken until he was thirty five to truly love someone with everything he is and everything he has, but he’d made damn sure to commit himself to being the total opposite of his old man. It had taken a lot of patience and hard work on HER part, but in the end he’d gotten there. Able to give and receive affection without hesitation or feelings of awkwardness and discomfort, mindful of her feelings and her emotions and constantly reminding himself that her opinions and thoughts were just as worthy and important as his own. Learning how to communicate and work together as a team when it comes to raising a family together. And he’d finally been able to show emotion without the fear of being judged or looked at as pathetic or ‘less of a man’; able to both show AND tell her just how feels. 

And if that makes him weak...to love someone THAT much...to make them the centre of your universe...to easily miss the sound of their voice and smell of their hair or how their eyes sparkle when they smile...then so be it.

He sends her a quick text; reminding her to message or call when she gets home so he knows that she and Addie arrived safe and sound. It’s the little things that often mean the most to both of them. Those tiny moments that are so easy to take for granted; the requests of “let me know you got there okay”, the “did you eat anything?” or “did you take your meds?”. Picking up things for each other while in town; snacks and treats the other loves, flowers from curb side vendors or even take out meals because both deserve a break from cooking for their small army. And those sticky notes she’ll leave for him all over the house, in the gym, and even in the truck. Just random scribbles of happy faces or hearts and letters of affirmation telling him how much she loves him and thanking him for the things he does around the house and with kids. Even cute messages like “don’t forget to smile; I love your crinkly eye smile”. When she first started doing it, it had seemed odd to him; those scrap pieces of paper -with their different sayings and their doodles- attached to things. He’d never encountered something like that before. Or a person THAT affectionate; who loved giving it and craved and needed it in return. But he’d adjusted and learned and moved out of his comfort zone, and now he looks for those pieces of paper and even feels disappointed when he doesn’t find any.

His mood continues on a downward spiral, and the loneliness and emptiness turns into frustration and anger directed at himself. That simple walk down the hall and back again has left him exhausted; even with the small breaks he’d been forced to take along the way. It’s disheartening; being used to operating at a certain level and speed and then suddenly not even being able to come close to it.

The pain is present but not intense; a dull ache in the knee and thigh and a tightness across the small of his back. He feels the difference already; in the amount of discomfort now compared to how unbearable it had been during the last few years. The meds they’ve been giving him are more than enough to knock things down before they get out of control; a sure sign that the repairs made have been successful and maybe...just maybe...life with severe, chronic pain is finally behind him. He takes the meds now; that helping of various tablets that the nurse had given Esme before their walk and she in turn had left within reaching distance when she left. And he eats the last vegemite sandwich and downs the remains of an iced coffee she’d brought for herself and never finished. Even that bit of sustenance feels amazing on an empty stomach; unable to eat since his ‘mental breakdown’ and Dhaka and no longer having to force himself to even take sips of water. And with even that small bit of food in him, the pills work quick; bringing both relief AND sleep. 

It’s fitful and restless; his brain easily recalling the vivid and disturbing images from the dream the night before. Esme with her torn clothes and her crudely chopped hair, beaten and restrained and at the complete mercy of Nathan. Tears of fear and desperation in her eyes and the duct tape over her mouth muffling her screams for help; begging and pleading with him to save her. And Nathan’s words continue to haunt him even during rest. It’s always been on his worst nightmares; the inability to defend and protect her. And even in a dream state it terrifies him; the thought of failing her and not being able to keep her safe.

When his mind wanders down a different path he dreams of the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Being taken out by a sniper and having to drag himself to safety; taking refuge behind a long abandoned and bullet ridden sedan. Struggling to breath; bullet piercing the top of his left ling and then lodging in his rib cage. The taste of his own blood; coughing and sputtering as it fills his throat and mouth. So close. He’d been so goddamn close. Less than fifty yards to freedom. To HER. He’s already pretty torn up. The wound on his right bicep reopened and bleeding profusely, his left shoulder aching and burning; the result of having to use his knife to carve out a bullet. Shirt drenched in both blood and sweat. He’d already been tired and weakened before he’d stepped onto the bridge; now he’s exhausted and almost immobile and in absolute agony. 

Things become hazy and disjointed after that. Ovi crouching down beside him and tearfully begging him to “please get up”. Telling the kid...ordering him...to run for the waiting helicopter. Watching as he rushes off in that desperate bid for safety before struggling to his feet and making one last ditch effort to both protect the teenager and get himself the hell out of Dhaka. Then turning his back and limping his way towards freedom. Determined to get there. To get to HER.

****

He jolts awake at the sound of the gunshot. Eyes snapping open and frantically scouring the room; disoriented brain trying to figure out just where the fuck he is. But there’s no panic; no terror that sets in as the realization dawns on him that he’s in a hospital. Just awareness and slightly fogginess as things begin to make more sense; the ‘cage’ on his leg, his right arm set in a sling to prevent more damage to the shoulder, the sterile white walls and metal railings on the hospital bed and the noises that trickle in from the hall. A frown curving his lips as he finds Ovi sitting beside him. Initially thinking that he’s somehow still on the bridge and everything around him is a figment of his imagination; that it’s fourteen year old Ovi taking his hand and squeezing tightly. 

“Are you okay? Are you with me?”

That’s NOT the voice of a fourteen year old. It’s deeper and richer and belongs to a man. And that face...with its neatly trimmed beard...does not belong to a child. Everything becomes clear after that; reality slowly and comfortably setting in. He’s not on that bridge. He’s not even in Dhaka. It was seven years ago and the kid is safe. HE’S safe.

“You were having a dream,” Ovi says. “A bad one. You were kicking and mumbling and saying something about me and Esme and getting off the fucking bridge and…”

“What time is it?”

Ovi consults his watch. “Two twenty.”

The nap hadn’t been as long as he’d thought it had, and certainly not as restful as he could have hoped for.

“Are you?” The kid asks. “Okay?”

“The meds fuck things up. Make my brain all messed up; makes me dream of weird shit.”

“You were dreaming about Dhaka? The first time there? When we were on the bridge and…”

“What are you doing here, kid?” He’ll ALWAYS be a kid to Tyler. In the same way that -no matter how old she gets and becomes someone’s wife and mother- Millie will forever be this baby girl. Or Addie -even when she’s forty- will still be his ‘little peanut’.

“Thought I’d come by now that you’re up to visitors. Esme said it was okay; if I popped in. She said you wanted to talk to me. I guess about the way things went down. With my...well you know...with HIM.”

He nods, then grimaces as he tries to switch position in bed. Scowling when Ovi immediately springs to his aid; fluffing pillows and meticulously arranging them between him and the top half of the mattress. A please, almost proud smile plastered across the younger man’s face when he returns to the bedside chair.

“Don’t EVER do that again.” Tyler immediately regrets those words. Or least the tone in which he said them in. That smile on Ovi’s face quickly replaced with a frown; hurt registering in his eyes and deep furrows appearing across his brow. He’s sensitive to a fault; still nursing gaping, festering wounds and harbouring fears instilled in him by his old man. Much like Tanner, he needs to be handed with ‘kid gloves’. Requiring softness and infinite patience; words cutting hard and deep. He’d meant it as a request, but his worsening depressive state made it come out as an order. “I didn’t mean it like THAT,” he quickly explains, anxious to mend the hurt feelings. “I appreciate you wanting to help. I do. But I don’t want you doing it. I hate how it makes me feel; when people help me. Especially someone I consider my kid.”

“You consider me like that? Like your kid?”

“Come on now, you KNOW I do. I see you like I see my own. And I wouldn’t feel comfortable with them helping me either. I’m supposed to take care of you guys, not the other way around.”

“But you NEED help right now,” Ovi reasons;. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone needs help sometime. Even the strongest and scariest of people.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “You saying I’m scary?”

“You can be. When you want to.”

“I just don’t like it, okay? How it makes me feel. Needing help.”

“It doesn’t make you weak, you know.”

Maybe not, but it sure as hell makes me feel that way.”

“It shouldn’t. The people who know you...REALLY know you...who love you? We all know how strong you are. The things that you’re capable of. How brave you are.”

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you seven years ago. I’m not brave, mate. Not in the slightest. Or at least I’m not feeling it right about now, anyway.”

“And I’m going to ignore you now just like I did back then. I didn’t believe it seven years ago, and I don’t believe it now. What you did for me then AND now? What you did for your family? That’s damn brave. And you’ll never convince me otherwise. You never walk away. No matter how bad things get. You never let anyone scare you off. You always stand up for what’s right. For people who can’t do it for themselves. Doesn’t matter what odds you face; you still hang in there and get shit done. THAT’S brave.”

“I think this is going to be one of those things we have to agree to disagree on.”

“It’s okay. I know how stubborn you are. I’ve been living with it and dealing with it for almost six full years now. I brought coffee…” he leans sideways in the chair and reaches for the carry out tray that sits on the bedside table, yanking out one of the cups. “..black…” he says, as he offers it to Tyler. “...like your soul.”

Tyler grins. He’s heard that playful comment before. “You’ve been listening to my wife too much. She always says that when people ask her how SHE takes her coffee.”

“Actually, she’s moved on to saying ‘black, like my men.”

Tyler frowns. “She what now?”

“You didn’t hear it from me. You know how she says things sometimes just for the shock value. And to try and scare off that one barista in town that has the hots for her.”

“Between guys at the grocery store, weirdos following her home from the post office, and now baristas, I’m going to be busting a lot of heads.”

“They’re harmless. You should be flattered. That all kinds of guys like her and she still comes home to you.”

“Trust me, mate. I am. I know how lucky I am. That she sees me the way she does. Loves me the way she does. I’ve never doubted it, but it’s really hit home just how much she actually does; how she’s been these last couple of weeks. I keep dumping all this shit on her and she just hangs in there. For some reason.”

“It’s love, right? We’re willing to go to the ends of the earth for the people we love. Do anything and everything for them.”

“When did you get to be an expert on this shit?” Tyler chides, and pops open the tab on the coffee lid and takes a swig. It’s piping hot and rich, and tastes damn good and feels even better going down and settling in his half empty stomach. His appetite’s returning; it’s initial loss perhaps a side effect of all the new meds and not the depression itself. And his mood feels a little lighter. He’s happy to have the kid there; comforted by the familiar face and voice and the presence of someone that truly knows him. That he can be somewhat vulnerable with.

“Not an expert. I’ve just had a good role model. I’ve spent almost six years watching how you love her. How you treat her.”

He can’t explain the emotion that wells in his chest upon hearing those words. And the honesty in which they’ve been said. Ovi is one of the most open and well spoken people he’s ever known; never at a loss when it comes to explaining how he feels or how sees other people. He learns by example, and Tyler’s spent the last six years trying his damndest to be a good one.

“That’s quite the thing, huh?” Ovi nods at the metal contraption on Tyler’s right leg.

“Definitely an eye sore. And a huge pain in my ass. Esme said if it was closer to Christmas, she would have hung ornaments on it.”

Ovi chuckles. “Does it hurt?”

Tyler shrugs. “Not really. More uncomfortable than anything. Guess it stings a bit when they come in and turn the screws. That’s a little...unpleasant.”

The younger man’s eyes widen. “They turn the screws? The screws that are going through your skin and muscle and into the bone?”

“Quarter inch at a time. Guess I get to do it myself when I get sent home. Or have someone do it for me. Something tells me Esme wouldn’t be able to handle that. Especially now. With the baby coming. Her hormones are all screwed up and everything’s making her nausea. She’d probably puke AND pass out if she had to do it.”

“Baby coming?” Ovi arches a brow. “What…?”

“You don’t know?”

He shakes his head.

“She never told you? I thought by now she would have told everyone. About the baby.”

“A baby? She’s having a baby you? You guys are having a baby?”

“Did I stutter or…?”

“Esme’s pregnant?”

“Am I speaking a foreign language you don’t understand?”

“How? How is that even possible? I thought you...you know...had things taken care of?”

“I did. I just didn’t handle the aftermath as well as I was supposed to. Or handle it at all, actually. So here we are. Number six on the way. Could be seven.”

“Seven? What..?”

“She’s pretty convinced there’s more than one onboard. You haven’t noticed? The bump? It’s the most obvious it’s ever been. How could you NOT notice it? Don’t tell her I said that. About how noticeable it is. She’s already pissed it’s that big already. I don’t need her knowing I said that and having her chop my balls off.”

“I never noticed anything usual. Other than she’s been wearing your t-shirts and your hoodies all the time. That’s nothing new for her when she’s just hanging around the house. A baby? She’s having a baby?”

“For the hundredth time, yes. She’s having a baby.”

“When?”

“We don’t know. We have no clue how far along she is. She’s supposed to go next week and get things checked out. Sucks I can’t go with her. This will be the first time I miss it for any of them; the first ultrasound. Koen is going to go with her. Moral support.”

“Maybe there’s a way to get you there. Maybe someone can talk the doctor into letting you out of here for a couple of hours. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right? If you’ve got someone watching over you? Maybe I could talk to them or…”

“I appreciate you wanting to help, but it’s a no go. I can’t even walk down the hall without stopping ten times. And that’s with a walker.”

“So you use a wheelchair.”

“That’s a big ‘fuck no’ from me.”

Ovi frowns. “I don’t get the big deal. Why are you so against it?”

“Have we met? Are you new here? You know what I’m like. How active I am. You really think I’m going to be okay with using a wheelchair?”

“I think you need to suck it up. Would you rather swallow your pride a little bit so you can be with your wife AND see your baby? Or would you rather miss out on the whole thing because you’re being a hard headed jackass?”

Tyler grins. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I think you’re being ridiculous. I think you need to just accept help whatever way it comes and however it comes. There’s nothing wrong with needing help. Whether it's from people or things. And I think Esme would rather YOU be there than Koen. Look at all the shit you guys have been through in the last seven years. All the things you’ve stuck beside each other through. You’ve never missed a single first ultrasound, right? Why start now? IF you can get there, why wouldn’t you want to?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there. I do. Believe me. I haven’t missed a single one. But…”

“No. There’s no ‘but’. I’m not allowing any ‘buts’. I’m going to find out who is in charge of these kinds of things and I’m going to tell them what’s going on and I’m going to convince them to let you out. So you can be there.”

“You are, are you? You’re going to take that all on yourself? Just call up the boss and talk them into it?”

“I am. And I won’t take no for an answer, either. Think about how happy it would make Esme. If you just showed up. She wouldn’t be expecting it; she probably doesn’t even realize there might be a chance of them letting you out of here for a little bit. Wouldn’t it be awesome? To see how excited she’d be if you just happened to show up?”

“She definitely would not be expecting that. That could be the surprise of all surprises. And you know how she is. She HATES being surprised. She’s thirty five and she still snoops for Christmas presents.”

“ I just want her to be happy. It’s important to me that she is. She deserves nothing but happiness. All the things she’s been through and all the things she does for other people. Without ever being asked or even appreciated sometimes. I want her to be happy. How can I not? She’s my mom.”

The pride and love he has for the kid in this moment is enormous. He always feels those things when he looks at Ovi. Seeing just how far he’s coming and how strong he is when it comes to battling his own demons and past trauma and horrible memories. Or watching him with the kids and it being so obvious how much he adores and cherishes them and vice versa; the patience of a saint, quick to nurture and protect but not shying away from scolding them or handing out some discipline. He’s come a hell of a long way; from that meek and mild fourteen year old wetting himself out of fear to a (then) twenty year old that did whatever he had to to keep four little ones safe during the Michael McMann fiasco. He’s a good kid. A good MAN. He’s compassionate and kind; a gentle soul that has always deserved so much more than his birth father could ever give him. And to hear him say that about Esme...to hear him refer to her as his mother...the emotion it brings forth is both overwhelming and inexplicable. It had been an easy decision; taking Ovi in. Not so easy convincing his father to let them do it. All they’d wanted to do was give him a somewhat normal life; a modest home, a stable upbringing, a family that loved him and accepted him ‘as is’. It would have been so easy to just leave him there in Mumbai. They were still in the process of beginning their own life together; newlyweds, a three month old baby. But neither of them have ever been the type to do things the easy way.

“I love her,” Ovi says. “She didn’t give birth to me, but she’s still my mom. She loves me like she is. She’s spent almost six years taking care of me. Someone else’s kid. She didn’t have to do it, but she did. And so did you. You guys were still kind of getting to know each other. You had your own baby. But you STILL took me.”

“We wanted you with us. We wanted you to have a life. A family. The way you were living? Sure, you had a lot of money and a huge house, but you didn’t have anything else. And we wanted you to have so much more than that.”

“And you guys gave that to me. I didn’t care that I didn’t have the money or the huge place to live anymore. All that mattered was that I had you guys. And Millie. I had a sister. And it was awesome. Now I’ve got all kinds of brothers and sisters. And I love those kids. More than you could know.”

“I know you do. I see how you are with them. I see how much they love you.”

“Esme deserves nothing but the best of everything. She’s always sacrificing things for other people. Always taking care of others and putting herself on the back burner. And now I want to do something for her. And if that’s getting you to that ultrasound, then I’ll convince whoever I have to to let you go. You just need to suck it up and get your ass in a wheelchair. Don’t do it for me, do it for her.”

“A guilt trip, huh?” Tyler grins. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Millie. She’s the Queen of guilt trips.”

“Just do it, okay? For Esme. Think of how happy she’ll be when you show up. Think of that smile. That one that just lights up her entire face.”

“I know that smile very well. And I haven’t seen it in a while. I’d like to see it again. Sooner rather than later.”

“So you’ll do it? If I can talk whoever is in charge into letting you go?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’ll do it. I’ll swallow my pride. I’ll do anything for her, you know that.”

“I do know that. I’ve seen you do it. Many times.” Ovi sips at his coffee. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Let’s go down to the cafeteria,” the younger man suggests, and stands. “I’ll get a wheelchair.”

“Don’t push your luck, kid.”

“Consider it a trial run,” Ovi grins, and then steps out into the hall.

*****

It feels good to get some ‘real food’ into him; none of the tasteless, barely edible garbage that is brought into his room every meal time. Now that his body has gotten used to all the new meds running through his system and his mood has somewhat improved -thanks to Ovi’s unexpected arrival breaking up the loneliness and filling the emptiness-, hunger has finally returned. His body now craves sustenance; stomach growling at the mere sight of food and the smallest whiff of baked goods and fresh coffee. It’s a good sign he figures; the depression not completely debilitating and robbing him of even the simplest of pleasures. But it’s always there though; lingering just under the surface and threatening to grow. It’s happened before; the drastic mood swings, the perpetual exhaustion, loss of appetite and all interest in the things he normally loves. Nerves on edge; easily annoyed and angered, snapping on his wife and kids for even the smallest of infractions or even things his brain conjured up. There’s even been times when it spiralled completely out of control. The first time popping an entire bottle of prescription pills and chasing them with a full bottle of whiskey. The second actually putting a loaded gun in his mouth; mere seconds away from pulling the trigger. 

The latter had landed him in the psych ward for three weeks; the first seven days allowed no visitors of contact with the outside world. Turned into a zombie thanks for the amount of medications being pumped into him. In the end he’d come out somewhat healthier mentally speaking; diagnosis given, but no real coping skills shown to him other than how to medicate himself in order to deal with the often crippling depression, severe anxiety, and the number of issues brought on by PTSD. He can feel himself going in that direction again; how quickly and severely his moods change, the slightly disturbing thoughts of self harm that creep in from time to time, the debilitating feelings of guilt and regret and the moments his mind convinces him that his wife and children would be better off without him. Having company alleviates those things, but only in the short term. Once he’s left alone with his own thoughts, he rapidly sinks lower and lower. ANd he knows if he gets that far this time, there won’t be a way of getting himself back out.

After they eat they sit in the hospital’s central courtyard. It feels nice; being the one on the outside looking in for once. Eyes closed and his head tilted back; relaxing in the warmth of the sun as it bathes in his face and body. He can smell the ocean; that crisp fresh scent and the hint of salt. And he can hear the waves; rolling in slowly but steadily.

“So how ARE you feeling?” Ovi inquires, as he sits alongside the wheelchair. 

He opens his eyes and shrugs. “Alright, I guess.”

“Just ‘alright’?”

“I was shot in the back, had the right side of my face carved up, and I’ve got a fucking metal cage on my leg. I think ‘alright’ is pretty damn good considering.”

“I know you’re doing good THAT way. I’m wondering how you’re doing OTHER ways.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “How much has she told you?”

“She hasn’t told me anything. I’m just…”

“Cut the shit, kid. I know she’s been talking to you. You’re probably the only person she IS talking to about all of this. I don’t see her opening up to her asshole of a brother, that’s for sure.”

“He’s been AWOL since she got back. Spending all his time over at Alison’s place. You know she’s sticking around, right? That he’s moving in with her. Quit his job in Denver in everything.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling that prick was never going back. I’m just glad he’s not making himself at home at my place. Alison can deal with him. I’m done with him. The way he talks to his sister? He’s lucky I haven’t knocked his teeth down his throat. More than once.”

“Why haven’t you, is what I want to know?”

“I promised her I wouldn’t. That I’d be the bigger person. Sometimes being the bigger person fucking sucks, I’ll tell you that much. You know what I’d give to hand him his ass? And NOT have it cause problems in my marriage? I’d give pretty much anything right about now. He’s probably pissed I didn’t die over there. That would have solved all the problems in his mind. If I was out of the picture and he could drag his poor defenceless, weak little sister back to Colorado.”

“He’s related to her, but he doesn’t know her very well. Esme’s far from being weak and defenceless. I mean, she keeps YOU in line. And deals with three boys.”

“She’s small, but she’s fucking mighty. I’m more scared of than a lot of the assholes I’ve come across on the job. But that’s how he sees her; some pathetic, weak, little girl that needs her big brother to save her from the mentally unstable Australian who kills people for a living.”

“He needs to let that go; his hatred for you. I don’t even know where it’s coming from.”

“I don’t think it’s actually a personal thing. It wouldn’t matter who she’s with. He’s going to hate whoever it is. He’s got it in his head that he has to protect her. From what, I have no fucking idea. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, that’s for sure. Just ignore him. Not worth getting worked up over. Just keep an eye on her, okay? That SHE doesn’t get riled up. Last thing I need is her getting all stressed and upset and something happening to her OR the baby. I went through that once. I do NOT want to go through that hell again.” 

It had been harder than he expected it to be; losing a child that he’d never gotten to see outside of a grainy ultrasound photo. He thought that after losing a kid to something as horrific as cancer -while he’s thousands of miles away, on top of it-, he’d be able to handle anything. He had seen Austin at his worst; right after the doctor had said there was nothing more that could be done for him, other than keeping him comfortable until the very end. When he was nothing but skin and bone and didn’t even have the energy to speak or raise his head from the pillow; his body ravaged by both the disease and the multiple rounds of chemo and radiation. He had thought THAT experience had decimated him; that he had no more tears to shed or any parts of his heart left to break. He’d been wrong. So goddamn wrong. When Esme lost the baby just shy of the fourth month, it kicked off a whole different level of heartache. All those dreams and plans for the future that parents come up when they’re expecting...the names picked out...the thought of what the baby will look like...what it would be...all just gone in the blink of an eye. The loss of a human life AND the potential of what they could have been like and the things they could have achieved. THAT all had been bad enough. He’d been devastated over the loss of the pregnancy; anything that was left of his heart completely torn out of his chest and trampled on. But seeing HER suffer -holding her while she sobbed, listening to her cry herself to sleep night after night, and hearing her apologize to him over and over again as if she was somehow responsible- had been the worst mental AND physical pain he’s ever experienced.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Ovi promises. “She’s doing okay. She has her moments. Where she just snaps on someone or starts to cry for no reason.”

“So you’re saying there’s no change in her? Because THAT’S pretty much my wife in a nutshell right there.”

“She’s doing okay. I know you’re worried about her. About how she’s doing. But she’s hanging in there. She’s tough. A lot tougher than a lot of people give her credit for.”

“I’ve never underestimated her. I knew she was tough stuff; second she showed up to help us in that factory. The fact she was able to hide out and keep herself alive in those woods and make it back into town? She’s fearless, mate. She showed it that day. And then showed it again on that bridge. She’s amazing. She really is. She has no idea how much I admire her. How much I respect her.”

“She’s worried about you.”

Tyler smirks. “I knew THAT was coming.”

“She is. And so am I.”

“Is that why you’re here? She sent you here to try and pick my brain? Thought maybe I’d go easy on you if you did? That I wouldn’t completely lose my shit?”

“She didn’t send me here. I came here on my own. Because I wanted to. I wanted to see you. Talk to you. But not about any of THAT. I know you’re struggling. Mental wise. But I also know you’ll refuse to talk about it and shut yourself down completely, so I’m not even going to try.”

“So you DO know what’s good for you.”

“I do. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize that three months ago.”

“What was three months ago?”

“When I dragged you into all of this. When my dad contacted me and I went to Nik instead of you. When I started all that bullshit about wanting to get into the job.”

“That’s all water under the bridge, mate. That was months ago. You thought you were doing the right thing. You thought by keeping it from me, you were somehow protecting Esme and the kids. And I have to hand it to you. Willing to go into the job so you can handle things on your own instead of getting someone else to fix shit? That takes some balls.”

“Balls I obviously don’t have. I wanted to act all big and tough when we were in Mumbai, but deep down I was glad you didn’t let me get too involved in things. I was relieved, actually; that you had me just hanging out and helping with minor shit here and there. I probably would have pissed myself a second time if you’d wanted me to do more than that.”

“It’s not everybody’s thing, mate. The job, Not everyone can handle. And there’s nothing wrong with NOT being able to handle it. It’s not your thing. You’re meant for bigger and better than that. You’re too good for that life. Way too good for it. I want more for you than that. I want you to have a REAL job; a career you can be proud of and brag about. That your kids can one day be proud of and brag about. What can my kids say? What can they ever tell THEIR kids? That I killed people for money?”

“That you helped people. That you stood up for what was right; no matter how bad or dangerous the circumstance. That you never backed down. You never let anyone break you.”

“Nathan broke me. He managed. He fucked me up inside AND out. And it kills me to admit that. I’m relieved, to be honest. That you did decide the job wasn’t your thing. I didn’t want you in that. I want so much more for you. For all my kids.”

“I’m going to go back to school. Maybe not this September, but next for sure. I want to go to medical school.”

“Really? You wanna be a doctor?”

“I do. A pediatrician, actually. Spending all that time with the kids made me realize how much I like taking care of them and helping them. I’ve been looking at schools, too. In the States, mostly.”

“You’d wanna go away from home?”

“Not really. But I think it’s something I need to do. I think it’s time to really grow up. Cut the apron strings. I’m really liking the sounds of Columbia, actually.”

“Esme will like hearing that. She LOVES New York City. She’s even been busting my balls to get a place there. So the kids can experience the Big Apple and have white Christmases. It’s going to take a lot of begging and sexual favours to get me to cave.”

“You might be surprised. You might actually like it there.”

“A guy like me in a place like that? I dunno, kid. I’d be like a fish out of water. I don’t like crowds. Lots of noise. Tons of people. It’s not my thing.”

“There’s areas in New York City that feel like smaller places. Little communities that feel like they’re tucked away from all the craziness. Maybe find one of those places and get something there. Something that feels small town-ish. Where you won’t stand out like a sore thumb.”

“Something tells me the accent is going to give me away as an outsider. But you never know; she might talk me into it one day. I talked her into staying here, didn’t I? I guess it’s my turn to give in and get out of my comfort zone for a change. But med school, huh?” He reaches out and playfully -and affectionately- ruffles Ovi’s hair. “That’s pretty hard core. And going thousands of miles to do it? Now THAT’S brave.”

Ovi gives a sheepish smile. “In its own way, I guess.”

“Whatever you decide to do, wherever you decide to go, I’ve got your back. I’ll support you no matter what. Both Esme and I will. We just want what’s best for you. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.”

“You guys WERE what was best for me. I could never thank you enough; for taking me in and getting me out of Mumbai and giving me a mom and a dad and brothers and sisters. And what you just did for me? Going up against my...HIS people...going up against Asif’s people? How do I ever thank you for that?”

“You don’t have to and I don’t want you to. I did what I did to protect my family. And that includes you. Simple as that.”

“I’m sorry. That it ended like this. With you here. All busted and torn up and your mind all fucking with you and…”

“It’s not your fault I’m here. It happened. This kind of shit comes with this life. It’s part of it, unfortunately. The nature of the beast. It could have happened on any job. It just worked out that it happened on this one. I don’t blame you. I’ll never blame you. I’d do it again if it meant keeping you and the rest of my family safe. I’d let myself get fucked up all over again...no hesitation...if it meant you guys would be okay.”

“And you say you’re not brave.”

Tyler smirks. “I think it’s actually more about being crazy than being brave.”

“You really ARE a stubborn asshole, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told. Many times. I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve come a long way. You’ve fought a lot of battles and you won. And you’re still here. You’re still standing.”

“Yeah, I am” Ovi agrees with a smile. “But I’ve learned from watching the best.”


	97. Chapter 97

She cancels the school bus in favour of picking the kids up herself. It feels good to get back some of the normalcy in her life. The simple act of grocery shopping on her way home from Cape Tribulation, tending to dinner prep while both Addie and Declan napped -headphones on, the lightest and most cheerful playlist she could find blasting through them-, a cup of tea and good to calm her queasy stomach as she sat outside on the back deck. It wasn’t quite the same though; way too quiet, the loneliness physically painful. 

After they’d moved back to Australia and he’d walked away from the job in lieu of devoting himself to being a family man, it had taken some considerable adjustment; neither used to the near constant presence of the other. It had been odd; having him around for ninety five percent of the time as opposed to being separated by thousands of miles for the majority of their life together. It had taken some work on both their parts to get used to the other being ‘underfoot’ all the time. He was accustomed to letting her ‘run the show’ while he was away, while she was used to making all the decisions -sometimes with little to no input on his behalf, as he trusted her motherly instincts and knew she’d do what was best for their family- regarding the kids. She had gotten so used to that way of life, that she didn’t know how to properly function with someone looking over her shoulder all the time and questioning -out of sheer curiosity, not judgement- her every move. But they’d quickly adapted to their newfound ‘partnership’; realizing just how well they worked together and genuinely enjoyed being around one another. And how much they had actually taken each other for granted. The big things: their parenting styles and the juggling of so many kids amid the responsibilities of paying the bills and keeping a roof over their heads and food on the table. The little: the sound of each other's voices and laughs, the ability to seek one another out whether it be to vent or for just a simple conversation, that playful banter and often flirtatious comments, the feel of the others body pressed against them in bed. 

She misses him. Not just having him right there beside her -or in close proximity- but just KNOWING he’s there. The physical moments are nice; those spontaneous hugs and kisses, those late breakfasts and lunches -while the older kids are at school- where they sit close enough to each other so their shoulders and or the sides of their thighs touch. The random moments when he’ll push her hair away from her face or gather it in his hands and gently put it in a ponytail for her, or how -without being asked- will spread sunscreen across her shoulders and down her arms and over her cheeks or down the bridge of her nose. Those little things that speak volumes in regards to how he looks at her and feels about her. But just the realization that he’s around is comforting in its own way; hearing the music blaring in the garage as he works out, the sound of hammering or power tools while he’s tending to the many reno projects they’ve been wanting to complete on the house, watching him from the back deck as he surfs or takes Declan -perched upon his shoulders- for walks along the beach. Knowing he’s there...that she can wander into the gym or into the garage and see him or can just talk to him whenever she feels like...is enough in its own way.

It’s so hard; leaving him behind while she returns to the comforts of home and their ‘regular’ life. And it’s nearly impossible not to be consumed with thoughts of how he’s doing; worried about the up and down moods -and how quick they seem to happen and powerful they seem to be- and how his thoughts turn to those dark and scary places when he doesn’t have the distraction of someone being there with him. She knows how much he hates hospitals to begin with; a nervous and anxious wreck even during routine appointments, or when she’s gone into labour, or they’ve had to take one of the kids (usually TJ) to the ER for a broken bone or stitches. What should feel like a safe place to him becomes a threat; the PTSD reminding him of all the horrible things that had led to him needing a hospital and the times he’d been so close to death. So far the doctors have things under control; the proper medications for both his mental and physical woes, nurses that understand the ins and out of working with someone with PTSD, a psychiatrist on call that will make spur of the moment visits. So far he hasn’t needed the latter; therapy appointments to begin the following week and then continuing -with house calls- after he’s released. And he hasn’t had any panic or anxiety attacks upon waking; his brain lucid enough to remember where he is and how he got there and that his family is alive and safe and sound. But he’s still teetering on a very dangerous ledge; thoughts of suicide, moments of self loathing, excessive amounts of guilt and regret, questioning whether her life and his childrens’ lives would be better off without him. And it’s hard...so fucking hard...to see the person you love...who you’ve made the center of your universe...struggle so bad. A man that’s so strong and brave suddenly so broken and so vulnerable. 

She’d arranged to meet Andy ahead of the bell, and he’s already waiting in the school yard when he arrives; sitting atop a picnic table on the edge of the playground, two cups of take out coffee in his possession. His smile is warm and genuine; his kindness and compassion always evident in those warm, brown eyes and in the soft lines in his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. He’a man that’s been through a lot in his own right; a marriage weakened by the strains of having a child with significant additional needs and a wife that’s still unable to fully accept their child or the cards that he’s been dealt. Yet he’s always around when others need him; whether it’s something as simple as the school needing an extra volunteer or something as enormous as showing up unexpectedly in Mumbai with Addie in tow. He’s always willing to help. Whether it be running errands for her or taking the kids to their extra curricular activities or letting her text or call whenever she needs a sympathetic ear to listening to her fears and her worries. He’s been an incredible friend to both her and Tyler; despite not knowing them or being in their lives for that long.

“You’re a God send,” Esme declares, as she climbs up onto the table and sits down beside him and then accepts one of the take out cups. 

“I wouldn’t say that too soon. That’s a decaf tea. I’ve been told I need to not encourage your caffeine addiction.”

“My husband worries way too much. This isn’t my first rodeo; I know not to over do it.”

“He loves you. He just wants to err on the side of caution. For you AND the baby.”

“Well as much I could have used a triple espresso right about now, I appreciate you even bringing me anything. You’re too good to me. To us.”

“Someone has to be. You both deserve to be taken care of. Something tells me it’s just been the two of you since the beginning; taking care of one another.”

“We’ve always been able to rely on one another. We’ve always had each other’s backs; no questions asked. And it’s just been easier for both us; relying on one another and no one else. It’s not an easy life to get other people dragged into it. We tend to actively avoid it actually; letting people get too close. You know how private he is. How he doesn’t like people knowing too much about him. Especially when it comes to what he does for a living.”

“I was surprised. That he was so open with me. At Millie’s party.”

“He has amazing instincts. He always has. And they must have told him that he could trust you. Tyler doesn’t open up to many people. There’s just a small handful of us that really know him. About his past and his son and the mistakes he made and more than redeemed himself for.”

“Well I’m humbled. That he sees me as worthy enough to share his past and his present with. He’s a good person; he has a good heart. And I think it's a shame he doesn’t seem himself that way.”

“He’s his own worst enemy at times. He doesn’t see himself worthy of this kind of life; a wife and kids and stability and people who adore him and don’t want to live without him. I’ve tried, Andy. I have. I’ve spent years trying to get him to see himself the way I do. The way his kids do. One day it’ll get through. I know it will. He’s an amazing person. He’s a big man with an even bigger heart. And he’s a phenomenal daddy. He’ll see it for himself one day. I know he will.”

“He’s very lucky. He has an equally amazing partner. Who doesn’t give up on him.”

“He wouldn’t give up on me. And trust me, I’ve given him reason to over the years. I’ve never been the poster child for wife of the year. Far from it. I’ve made my mistakes. I’ve said some horrible things and hurt him. But he’s never turned his back on me. Ever. He’s just hung in there and he’s loved me even harder. Especially on the days when I haven’t been very lovable.”

It would have been so easy; walking away from one another when things got especially hard. When her bad experiences with her ex evolved into her expecting Tyler to be either exactly the same -waiting for the other shoe to drop, when he’d turn from loving and attention to mean and abusive- or live up to completely unrealistic expectations. Or when the demons of his own past would come out to play and wreak havoc; sending him into a downward spiral of alcoholism and pain killer addiction. A lot of people would have just given up; seen each other as lost causes and just cut the strings and relegated themselves to co-parenting and nothing more. But what should have torn them apart had just made them even stronger; working together -and separately- to keep things afloat and when everyone expected them to drown. It’s almost fitting; the ones who were the most judgemental and who told them to just ‘cut their losses’ ending up being the ones whose lives fell apart while they continue to strengthen theirs.

“We’re going to head there after here. To the hospital,” Andy says, as he sips his coffee. “I called; asking him if it was okay if we both stopped in. He said it was fine. Seemed in pretty good spirits, actually. Best I’ve heard him in yet.”

“He has his moments,” Esme admits. “Where things are really good. And then they just go really bad.”

“Mentally speaking.”

She nods. “You know he has issues, right? I’m sure he’s told you. About the PTSD and the depression and the anxiety.”

“He has.”

“He’s not in a good place right now. He’s actually in a bad place. A REALLY bad place. He’s fine if there’s someone there with him; if he has a distraction. But when he’s alone and it’s quiet and he has time to think, his mind heads to a very dark place. The things he thinks...about himself...they’re scary. About how he’s not deserving of the life he has and how our lives would be better off without him and…” her voice cracks with emotion, and Andy lays a supportive hand on her shoulder. “...and I don’t want him going to that place. He’s been there before and I almost lost him to it. I need to get him away from it. I just don’t know how.”

“Do the doctors know? About all of those? About how he’s feeling?”

“They wanted to put in the psych ward and I refused to let them. It would have done more harm than good; not being able to see me or the kids for a week or two. That would have made him worse. But he has a nurse with mental health experience and they’ve got him on meds and a therapist is going to start coming to see him and will keep seeing him once he’s released. It’s just so hard. Seeing him suffer like this. Years of watching him go to war every day with his own mind. He’s so strong and he’s so brave and to see him so broken and lost and vulnerable…” she shakes her head. “...I worry I’m not doing enough for him. That I should be trying harder to help him.”

“You can only do so much. And you’re doing it. Your share. You’ve done what you can.”

“I hate feeling like I can’t help him. Like I can’t fix him. I want to be able to. I know how that sounds stupid; wanting to fix a grown ass man.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid at all. We want to help the people we love. We want to fix things. Make it all better for them.”

“I just feel so helpless. That I can’t do more. But I’m tired. I’m so tired and I’ve got five kids that need my attention, too. And I’ve got a baby I’m trying to grow and I’m just...overwhelmed. So overwhelmed.”

“Is there anyone that could come and help you? Stay at the house? So you’re not doing this all alone?”

“I’ve got Ovi. He’s amazing. He’s grown up so much and he’s so wise and caring and just steps up without being asked. And my sister is coming next week. Just right now everything seems so out of control. And I hate leaving him there. I hate the thought of him being alone because I know how much his mind tortures him when he is. But I can’t be in two places at once. And my kids need me. They need at least one parent.”

“And what about him?” Andy nods in the direction of the SUV parked outside the school gate; Kyle leaning against the passenger side door as he talks on the phone.

“Pardon my French, but he’s fucking useless. He hasn’t come around since I got back from Dhaka. He’s been over at the neighbour’s. I guess things are getting serious between them; he quit his job in Denver and has every intention of staying here. I wish he’d just fuck off. I really do. He makes things even harder on me. He used to be the one that liked Tyler; the one that gave him the chance when no one else would. But some things happened when we were in Colorado and it all changed. Now Kyle hates him and it causes so many problems. He tries to get in the middle of Tyler and I, and I’ve told him, if the decision had to be made between them, I’m choosing my husband. No hesitation.”

“Sounds like he needs to concentrate on his own life and stay out of yours.”

“Which he’s been told many times. There’s nothing he can say that it is going to make me turn my back on Tyler. That’s where my loyalty lies; with my husband and the father of my kids. And Kyle doesn’t seem to get it. He doesn’t understand why I would make that decision. And I’m tired of trying to explain it to him.”

“So why is he here? Why’d he tag along?”

“It’s not because he actually cares about me or wants to see the kids. I’m sure it’s to talk shit about Tyler. I’ve been waiting for it; since we left the house. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. And I’m at the point where I might just throat punch him. I have zero spoons left, Andy. I have exhausted all my patience and most of my sanity. If it wasn’t for my kids, I’d be a basket case. Well, more than I already am.”

“You’re doing good,” he assures her, and affectionately squeezes her shoulder. “Just hang in there. It’ll get better, I promise. HE’LL get better.”

“I’m just worried about him. Because I’ve seen him at the lowest of the low. And he’s so close to that again. I don’t want that happening, Andy. I don’t want him surviving what he did only to lose his mind. He deserves so much better than that. He deserves to be happy and at peace with himself. That’s all I want for him.”

“And he’ll get there. Maybe not today or tomorrow or even next week or next month. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. I can try talking to him. Get a pulse on how he’s feeling.”

“Without him realizing you’re doing it? Because if he thinks I sent you..”

“I have my ways. Of flying under the radar. I’ll think of something. In the meantime…” he pulls back the corner of the blanket draped; secure in the baby carrier strapped to Esme’s chest. “...how are you, little Miss?”

“She’s grumpy. She’s been whiny all afternoon. Just not herself. She was fine at the hospital; all smiles and cuddles with daddy. Second we left? It was like night and day. She’s just been so...extra.”

“Well she still may be young and tiny, but she has feelings. Probably very big feelings. She misses daddy.”

“Yeah,” Esme says, and presses a kiss to Addie’s forehead. “So do I.”

*****

She takes the kids for ice cream and then to their favourite park. Three blocks from the downtown area and situated in a sparsely populated cul de sac; surrounded by trees and boasting a mixture of both old and new equipment and accompanied by a splash pad and soccer park. She’d missed them terribly; those beautiful little faces with their sparkling eyes and their slightly crooked smiles. Those sweet voices -with their quickly growing and thickening Australian accents - and those musical giggles. The way they’ll rush over -face and hands sticky from ice cream- and hug her and kiss her and tell her how much they missed her and how much they love her. Even Millie, who has spent her entire six years unapologetically choosing daddy as her favourite, has been more affectionate and needy. Crawling into bed with her in the middle of the night and snuggling as close as she possibly can. Needing random moments of cuddling and affirmation throughout the day and evening; never straying far from her side and insisting on holding her hand during their walks on the beach. 

Their dad’s injuries and subsequent long hospitalization have been hard on them; never before coming that close to losing him (whether they realize it or not) and never spending that length of time separated from him. But for Millie it’s been especially difficult. Daddy is her ‘person’; the one she always runs to when she needs extra attention and love and who has scared away every monster that’s ever been lurked under her bed or lived in her closet. Even as a baby she’d been exceptionally close to him. Quickly and easily calming whenever she cried and growing accustomed to his voice and his kisses and cuddles; especially during those late night and early morning feedings when -without being asked- he could get up without any hesitation and tend to her. Their bond is unique: Millie the only one out of the five that has had her father as a constant fixture throughout the entire first year of her life. She IS his miracle. Never believing he’d ever be a father again and coming so close to never even getting the chance to know about her existence, never mind actually seeing her.

She watches her first born now; teaming up with TJ (instead of wanting to beat the crap out of him or strangle him) to help a nervous Tanner get over his fear of the playground’s swinging bridge. The sunlight catching Millie’s hair; long, loose strands billowing in the breeze. She’s so beautiful. A free spirit that has always seemed to flawlessly connect and blend in with nature; loving the wind and finding both amazement and solace in thunderstorms and possessing a love for water. All long torso and tanned limbs; perpetually messy tresses and those huge, incredible blue eyes and her dad’s ‘crinkly eyed’ smile and his multitude of facial expressions. 

Nine months of nausea, incessant heartburn, back aches, swollen feet, and eventual insomnia, only for Millie to come out looking -and acting- just like her father.

“Mommy!” Her daughter calls to her now, waving from the middle of the swinging bridge, other hand tightly clutching Tanner’s hand. “Look! He did it! Tanner did it! He’s not scared anymore!”

“Way to go guys! Working together for once! And awesome job, Tanner! I’m so proud of you!”

“I’m still scared!” He yells back. “But not as much! I’ll be okay! Millie won’t let anything happen to me!”

“Isn’t it better when you guys work together instead of trying to kill each other all the time?! And Tyler, can you please help your other brother before he kills himself trying to climb the outside of the slide?!”

“I’m on it!” Her oldest son assures her, then nearly gives her a heart attack when he slings one of those long legs over the edge of the bridge and then fearlessly drops to the ground; hitting the dirt running as he rushes to Declan’s aid. 

“Your brother is going to give me a stroke one day,” Esme says to Addie as she sits in the stroller parked in front of her. “Why does he have to be so much like daddy? Can you explain that? Can you explain how in the world your daddy’s genes are THAT strong?” She takes a lick of her ice cream cone, then holds it to Addie’s lips; the baby eagerly sucking at the chocolate and vanilla flavoured treat. A first shivering and grimacing from the cold, but then giggling and smiling broadly and going in for more. 

“Isn’t she a bit young for that stuff?” Kyle remarks, as he finally joins her, pocketing his cell phone before dropping down onto the bench beside her.

“Tell me, who has five kids and who has none?”

“I’m just saying. She’s a baby. And you’re giving her ice cream?”

“I’ve given them all a bit of real food since they were very tiny. When he was this age, Declan used to love mashed potatoes and gravy. TJ’s thing was barbeque sauce and vegemite. They’re all still alive, aren’t they? They’re all thriving and growing, right? I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Just a little one like that and something like ice cream…”

“Kyle, I refuse to take advice from someone with no kids. Just because you’ve babysat here and there, doesn’t make you a parenting expert. So why don’t you leave raising MY kids to me, okay? I’ve only been doing it for six years now. I didn’t need your advice with the first four, and I don’t need your advice with Addie.”

“Maybe if you had asked for my advice with the first four, they wouldn’t be the way they are.”

“Yes, because my kids are just so horrible. They’re just the worst kids on the face of the earth. I have done a terrible job raising them and they’re going to grow up to be serial killers.”

“Maybe not serial killers, but violent sociopaths maybe. I hear it can be hereditary. I never said any of THAT. I never said they were bad kids. I wasn’t trying to say they’re awful or that you’re a bad mother or…”

“So what WERE you trying to say?”

“That they’re too much...I don’t know...too much like HIM.”

“Weird how that works out, huh? How they can be so much like someone that kicked in fifty percent of their DNA? And HIM? You’re calling him, HIM now? You’re no longer doing the first name thing? You’re taking over for mom? He has a fucking name, use it.”

Kyle scowls. “Don’t talk to me like that.’

“I’ll talk to you any goddamn way I want when you disrespect my husband. That’s why you’re here, right? Why you even tagged along? So you can find the perfect time to shit talk him? That’s why you’re here. So much for your offer to ‘help’ with the kids. Help, my ass. You haven’t even said two words to them. You ignored Tanner completely when he asked you to play with him. All you’ve done is look at your phone or text or make calls. You might as well just stayed home.”

“We needed to talk.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to talk. You had your chance. When I got home from Dhaka, you could have stuck around. But you took off for Alison’s and you haven’t even bothered to check in on me or the kids since. And never mind that; you never bothered to reach out to me after all this happened three weeks ago. You knew how bad things were. You knew Tyler might not make it. And where were you? I needed you, Kyle. I needed my big brother. I thought my husband was going to die. And you were nowhere to be found.”

“I did what you asked. I came back here with the kids.”

“No, I never asked that of you. I asked Ovi. And then Nik and Anil offered to come and stay for a bit. You took it upon yourself to take off. You never even came to Dhaka. You stayed in Mumbai. Why didn’t you come with Nik and Anil? They made the effort to get to the hospital. Why didn’t you?”’

He shrugs.

“You hate Tyler THAT much? That you couldn’t even be bothered to act like you cared? I’m your sister. Your flesh and blood. And my husband was this close…” she holds her index finger and thumb mere millimeters apart. “...to dying that day. That’s the closest he’s ever been. And I needed you. I needed you there with me. Where were you?”

“I couldn’t do it. Go there. I just couldn’t.”

“Why? What has Tyler done to you? Why do you hate him so much? You guys used to get along. You were the one that gave him a chance when we came to Colorado. When everyone else was shitting on him, you stood up and you took the time to get to know him. What the hell happened? Where did it go wrong? What has he ever done to deserve how you treat him? How you talk about him?”

“He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“What the hell is your problem then? If he hasn’t done anything to you, what…?”

“It’s what he’s done to you.”

“What has he done? He hasn’t done anything to me. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s done plenty. And there’s a lot he hasn’t done and should have.”

“Like what? Give me an example of something he’s done. Or something he should have done and didn’t. Or is just shit you’ve made up in her own mind to villainize him? Tell me, Kyle. Tell me one thing he’s done so wrong to me.”

“What about those six months? When you guys split up?”

“What about them? We hit a rough patch and we separated. It happens. We’re not the first couple who has ever gone through that, and we won’t be the last. We’re just one of the lucky ones that got past it.”

“He was a drug addict.”

“You know what, he was. No, correction, he IS. He will always be one. In the same way he’ll always be an alcoholic. He has those issues. He’s never hid them from me. I’ve always known. Since the day I met him. And you know what, he’s beaten it. He’s gotten clean. And he does what he has to to stay that way. He’s not a monster because he has those issues. He never has been.”

“He could have given it up. When you kicked him out. He could have stopped doing it and fought to get you and the kids back.”

“Yeah, he could have. And Tyler and I have had this conversation. Many times. About how he could have stepped up and got his shit together and fought for me and the kids. And he knows how much it hurt that he didn’t and that’s something he’ll probably carry for the rest of his life. But we got past all of that. We got back together and we busted our asses to make things work. We BOTH did. We BOTH put in the work to keep our marriage and our family together. We’ve both come a long way and we’re stronger now. And to be honest, Tyler’s issues and any problems we may have, are none of your goddamn business.”

“You’re my sister. That makes it my business.”

“No, Kyle. It doesn’t. You make it your business. And you don’t make it your business because you care about me or you’re worried about me. You make your business so you can try and turn me against him. You’ve been doing it since we left Colorado. You started doing it there. And we got away from it. Why did you even come to Australia? We were happy. We had our own life here. It was quiet and it was drama free and then you showed up and you brought all kinds of bullshit with you.”

“No. HE did that. When he decided to go back to the fucking job. He just can’t let it go, can he? He just can’t walk away and be happy with you and the kids. You’re not good enough for him.”

“What did you want him to do? People were threatening his family! Do you have any idea the things that were said? What he was told would be done to me and the kids? Especially to Millie and Addie? Did you really think Tyler would just roll over and let people get away with that shit?”

“He could have let other people handle it. Instead he dragged you and the kids to Mumbai and…”

“I agreed to go to Mumbai. Because he felt better if the kids and I were close. Because it meant he could get to us if shit hit the fan. That’s why we went there. Kyle, I know you think you know everything there is to know about him and why he does the things he does and why he makes the decisions he does, but you know shit about him. So do me a favour and just stop. Stop talking about him, stop making assumptions about him, just stop. I am so done with you when it comes to this.”

“You really don’t know how to get away from him, do you.”

“I don’t WANT to get away from him. He’s my husband! He’s the father of my children! I love my life with him. I love HIM. And I know you have it in your head that he’s somehow trapped me here and has manipulated me into staying with him, but that is so far from the truth. Tyler has never...EVER...been manipulative or controlling.”

“Not even seven years ago? When he convinced you to stay here?”

“He didn’t convince me to do anything. I chose to stay. Just like I chose to stay on the bridge with him. He didn’t force me into anything.”

“He got you pregnant.”

“Not intentionally. It happened. We weren’t as careful as we should have been, Hell, we weren’t careful at all, actually. And yeah, I got pregnant. But it took both of us for that to happen, didn’t it? He didn’t do it all himself, did he?”

Kyle sighs.

“And you can look at what happened between us anyway you want. You can say we were stupid or irresponsible and that we should have been careful. But we made a beautiful, incredible little girl together. And she’s amazing. Millie is the best thing that ever happened to both of us. Especially to him. And you can’t take that away from us. No matter how hard you try. She was his second chance. Or the start of it at least. And he loves that little girl with everything he is and everything he has. So don’t you even dare try and suggest otherwise.”

“I know he does. I know how much he loves all of them.”

“He’s a great dad, Kyle. He’s an amazing dad, actually. And they love him. So can you at least pretend to like him? For them? Because he IS their father. And I don’t want them around someone who hates him. I can’t have them around that. So you can please tone it down so they don’t hear or feel any of this animosity? Because those kids are going through enough. They don’t need anything else dumped onto them.”

“Esme, I can’t…”

“I am BEGGING you. Don’t do this to them. If you love them at all, don’t do this. Because that is their daddy and they love him more than anything. And you will not try and ruin him in their eyes. I will not let you do that.” 

“Mommy!” Tanner rushes over. “Can I have some of Addie’s baby wipes? My hands are sticky. I HATE when my hands are sticky. It grosses me out!”

“That’s what you get for being such a messy ice cream face,” she teases, and places her hands on the side of his face and pulls him into a noisy, sloppy kiss. And he giggles and squirms when she presses a series of pecks to his filthy cheeks. “You’re just so cute,” she gushes. “I could just eat you up. Like a big cookie!”

“Cute like daddy, smart like mommy!”

“The best of both worlds,” she declares, and ruffles his hair before digging into Addie’s baby bag for a package of wipes. Yanking two out and scrubbing at both his hands and his face. “You are a mess, young sir. You’re going to need a power wash. Or maybe we’ll just take you to the car wash and let you walk through.”

“That would be really cool actually. Can you do that? Is it possible? For someone to walk through one?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s something you can look up when you get home. Or ask Siri on my phone.”

“I’ll ask daddy when I see him. He’ll know. Daddy knows everything. Well, almost everything. He didn’t know any of the names of the Fellowship of the Ring.”

“That’s not exactly daddy’s forte. But ask him to name EVERY Captain in the entire history of the Gold Coast Football Club? He’ll know that for sure.”

“He’s smart, you know. Smarter than he thinks he is.”

“Yes. He is. He is a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for.”

“He married you, right? That makes him a genius.”

Esme grins. “You sweet talker, you. Can you do me a favour?”

He nods.

“Can you go and give Tyler a break from watching Declan? Let him play for a bit?”

“Okay,” Tanner agrees, and then wraps both arms around her necks and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I love you, mommy.”

“I love you too, nugget. So much. Stop growing up so fast, alright? I’m not ready for it.”

“Alright,” he says, and then rushes off.

“I swear to God, Kyle…” Esme keeps her voice low. “...if those kids hear a single bad thing about their dad come out of your mouth, I will never forgive you. And I will make sure that you never, ever see them again. I will not let you ruin him in their eyes. I won’t. He is an amazing dad and I won’t let you take that away from him. Or them. Understand me?”

He nods.

“If you can’t at least pretend to like Tyler, then you stay away. Don’t come around. Because I do not want that around my kids. I refuse to let that around them. And if you can’t pull up your big boy pants and be an adult about this, you can fuck off and stay there. I told you a long time ago that if it ever came down between you and him, I’d pick him. And I meant it.”

“Not surprised. You picked him over the entire family seven years ago.”

“I picked having a life with someone that I love. Someone that loves me. I didn’t have a life in Colorado. I didn’t want to go back there. That was his idea. Because he thought I needed that; to be closer to my family. What he didn’t realize, is that HE was the only family I had. And the only one I wanted.”

“So you just turned you back on everyone? For some guy you barely knew?”

“I knew more about him in five days than my entire family knew about me in thirty years. I’m done, Kyle. With this. With this whole ‘Tyler took you away and kept you away’. I STAYED away. On my own. Because it’s what I needed to do. You only know your nieces and nephews because of him. Because he insisted we move to Colorado. I would have been perfectly happy never going back there.”

“That’s pretty harsh. To say about your own family.”

“Tyler is my family. My kids are my family. That’s it. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’ve never been like this before. This hateful. This ugly. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you’re not going to project it onto me. I love my life. I love my husband. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And you will not tarnish that. No matter how much you try.”

“You know…” he sighs. “...I always thought you were smarter than this. That you had a better head on your shoulders. That you wouldn’t let someone control you like this.”

“Love is not control, Kyle. I stay because I love him. Because he loves me. That’s it. Get a grip.”

“So you’d never go back? To Colorado?”

“That’s the last place I ever want to go.”

“I guess this isn’t the time to tell you I bought tickets. One way trips.”

“You’re going back? You’re going home?”

“Not just me.”

“Alison too? How’d you talk her into that? How’d you…?”

“I’m talking about ALL of us. Me, you, the kids.”

“Wait...what…?” She can’t help but laugh. “...what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m doing this because I love you. And those kids. I’m doing what’s best for all of you because you apparently won’t.”

“Are you serious right now? You bought plane tickets? For all of us? To go to Colorado?”

“I’m doing what you should have done a long time ago. Before things got so out of hand. Before one kid turned into three and three turned into four and…”

“Don’t you dare talk like that about my kids. Don’t you ever talk about them like that!”

“Do you think this is fair to them? This life? Is this really what you want for them?”

“What is wrong with this life? There is nothing wrong with it. They have two parents that love them more than anything in this world. Who provide for them and take care of them and would do anything for them. There is nothing wrong with their lives. Does it look like something is wrong with it? Look at them!” She jerks her head in the direction of the playground; Millie and TJ laughing and getting along as they climb a tree together, Tanner taking Declan for rides down the slide. “They’re happy and they’re healthy and they’re loved! There’s nothing wrong with their lives!”

“They have a father that kills people for a living!” Kyle retorts.

“That’s not all he does and you know it. So don’t you dare hold that over his head. Yeah, he’s a mercenary. A damn good one. If not the best one.”

“Not so good if he’s in the shape he’s in now, is he.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Kyle. He has more balls in his baby finger than you have in your entire body. And you will NOT talk about him like that. You will not disrespect him. I will defend that man until my very last breath. Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

“You need to get out. Before it’s too late.”

“I don’t need to do anything. My life is here. My husband, my children. I’m not going anywhere. And neither of my kids. What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your ever loving mind?”

“It’s going to go wrong, Esme. HE’S going to go wrong. He’s unhinged and he’s dangerous and he’s…”

“No. He’s not. He has mental health issues. That he’s getting help for. But he’s not unhinged and he’s not dangerous. Tyler has never...EVER...been a threat to me. Or the kids. I’m not afraid of him. I never have been. And he’s never given me a reason to be. He wouldn’t hurt me. Or the kids. He doesn’t have it in him.”

“If he’s got issues...upstairs...he won’t know what he’s doing. And he’ll come home and he’ll snap and…”

“No. He won’t. And you want to know why? Because he loves us. He would never hurt us. I’m not going anywhere with you, Kyle. And neither are my kids. You don’t have a say in this. You don’t control me, understand? I am a wife and a mother and you need to accept that and back the hell off. I don’t need your shit! I have enough on my plate and my stress level is sky high and…” she winces at the sharp, painful cramp that takes a hold in her lower stomach, and lays a hand over the spot. “...and you need to back off. Or something bad WILL happen. And I will never forgive you if it does. And when he’s better, Tyler will get a hold of you and you won’t like the results.”

“You think I’m scared of him?”

“You fucking should be. Because if anything happens to me or this baby…”

“Baby? What…?”

“We found out. When we were in Mumbai. And I’ve been having problems. Since everything went down in Dhaka. And especially within the last week. Cramps and spotting and my blood pressure being way too damn high. And if you do love me, if the smallest bit, you would back off. Because I can’t lose this baby. I can’t go through that again. And neither can Tyler.”

“You’re pregnant? You’re having a baby?”

“I need you to back off, Kyle. I can’t take the chance of something happening to this baby. You have no idea what it would do to him. I won’t let you risk anything. I’m already having issues and I have to see the doctor next week and…”

“Esme,” he lays a hand on the back of her neck. “I had no idea. I didn’t…”

“You need to stay away,” she says, and knocks his hand away. “I want you to stay away from me. Away from my house. Away from my kids. We’re done. I'll go on with my life and you go on with yours.”

“That doesn’t need to happen. That doesn’t…”

“We’re done!” she forcibly repeats, then jumps to her feet and steers the stroller in the direction of the playground.


	98. Chapter 98

Esme is grateful for the silence that follows them home; the fifteen minute drive giving her a chance to calm her frazzled nerves and fragile emotions following the blow out with Kyle. She’s not surprised it happened; trouble had been brewing during their final months in Telluride, everything coming to a head when Tyler had agreed to help Michael McMann. Moving away from her brother’s growing hostility and his sudden allegiance with their mother had been the best decision they’d ever made; putting thousands of miles between them and the drama and toxicity the right choice to make for their marriage. Things had gotten better the second they’d put down their roots in Cooktown; exchanging the mountains and the snow for the beach and the ocean. The difference in both of them had been immediate; the angst and the stress put on their shoulders by her family and their treatment of both her and him suddenly lifted and leaving them feeling thousands of pounds lighter. They become more relaxed and much happier; no longer having to worry about those unannounced visits and the snide remarks and passive aggressive comments that would accompany them. No one could ruin their day just by showing up; no more petty arguments, no more needless strain on their marriage, no more nights of going to bed angry. The Tyler and Esme that had existed in Colorado had stayed there. Australia enabling them to finally to transform themselves into something so much better and stronger.

She had expected too much from Kyle. She realizes that now. It had been foolish to think that his appearance and subsequent extended vacation had been a sign that he was willing to ‘mend fences’. It’s always been a bad habit of hers; wanting to see the good in everyone, even after they’ve proven that they simply don’t possess a decent bone in their bodies. At first things had been relatively tame; the occasional cutting remark passed off as ‘humour’, the judgmental comments followed by half hearted apologies, the few instances where he’d butt into things that were simply none of his business. But what initial came across as indifference or annoyance had just increased; quickly turning into anger and jealousy and finally hatred. She won’t tolerate the blatant disrespect; the misguided and cruel comments, the catty and off hand remarks, the refusal to listen to reason and learn the truth. No one talks about her husband like that. A man that’s stared death in the face and lived to tell about it. Whose battled relentless and tenacious demons and beaten dangerous and harmful vices. Who -despite a laundry list of issues caused by a dark traumatic past- has been the best thing that’s ever happened to her; a loving, devoted, and faithful husband, patient and attentive and caring father. Someone so strong and tough that’s filled with so much love to give; a tender heart inside of a that big, scarred body. 

The altercation at the park had been the last straw. The cruel and undeserving words towards her husband hitting hard and cutting deep; an already bruised and tattered heart breaking beyond all comprehension while that anger -that’s been simmering for three weeks since Nathan nearly ruined their lives- reached its boiling point. Kyle’s accusations are entirely unfounded and false; she’s never been afraid of Tyler, nor has he ever given her a reason to be. His issues and his demons are always internalized; he punishes himself and would never allow it to get to the point of taking things out on his family. And for Kyle to be so bold as to try and take control of the situation..of HER...is what truly broke the camel’s back. Expecting her to abandon not only the love of her life, but her entire existence; taking children away from a father who loves them more than life itself and would do anything to make them happy and keep them safe. Even if things ever got THAT bad and she had no reason but to leave, she certainly wouldn’t grab her kids and take off for somewhere thousands of miles away. Not having a relationship with his children would destroy Tyler; he’d no doubt sink further into depression and fall back into his old habits and most likely end up worse than before. Even if their marriage fell apart and they somehow found themselves hating each other, she still couldn’t -and wouldn’t- do that to him. Not even at his worst would he deserve that kind of punishment. And it would be cruel and heartless to rob her children of the father they adore and who has always been nothing but patient and loving with them. 

The quiet has given her time to calm. Feelings still hurt and her brother’s words still ringing in her ears, but most of the anger subsiding; hands no longer trembling and jaw finally relaxed. The cramps have disappeared as well; a common occurrence with all her pregnancies -along with slight spotting- but far more painful and frequent than what she’s used to. Stress the most likely culprit; her normally lower than average blood pressure suddenly shockingly high. And it’s so easy for the doctor to preach about ‘taking it easy’ when he’s not the one going through her current predicament. A husband who’d been on death’s doorstep just three weeks prior and has months -even a couple years, they’d been told- of extensive and painful physical therapy ahead of him. Five children to care for and their schedules and routines to maintain. Even a business that still needs to run. There’s no way to cut back on the amount of work there is to do, let alone shelve all the worry and the fear that has been prevalent in the last three weeks.

At a red light she glances through the rearview mirror. Millie and TJ still managing to get along; sitting side by side, earphones on as they play a game together on TJ’s tablet, Declan napping with his head tilted back at an awkward angle and his mouth hanging open, Addie beside him in her car seat; babbling and giggling, one sock missing and her little hands trying to get her bare foot into her mouth. Tanner sits beside her with his own earphones on; a thick, hardcover novel resting open on his lap, one of his hands continuously stroking his baby sister’s hair. Looking so much like his father with that haircut and a facial expression she’s seen many times: that infamous pout that occurs during sleep or when intently focused on something. And when the light changes and she continues for him, she hears him sigh heavily and quickly looks back; watching as he takes off the ear phones and lets them dangle from his neck, his lips going from pouting to being set in a thin, stern line.

“Momma?” That little voice. With that budding and strengthening accent and that hint of sadness. 

“What’s up, nugget?”

“When is daddy coming home? Home, home? Back to the house?”

“I don’t know for sure. Soon, though.”

“How soon is soon?”

“Probably a couple of weeks.”

Another heavy sigh. “That’s not soon enough.”

“You really miss him, huh?”

Tanner nods. “Right when we got to be best buddies, too. Worst timing EVER.”

“Well you’re still best buddies, you just haven’t been able to spend any time with him. But you’ll get to see daddy in a couple days, right? That must make you a little bit happy.”

“It does. ‘Cause I miss him and I can’t wait to hug him. Daddy gives the best hugs; his arms are really big and really strong but he never squeezes me too tight. He squeezes me just perfect. I can’t wait to get a daddy squeeze. And kiss him. He always makes me giggle by rubbing his beard against my cheeks.”

“I know he’s just as excited as you are. That he’s looking forward to giving you TONS of squeezes and kisses.”

“I’ll still be happier when he comes home, though. When he gets to live with us again. Because then I can see him all the time. I don’t have to wait days and days. I can just go into the gym or the garage or just go down to the water and he’s there. I miss being able to just go and see him and talk to him. And I miss how he tucks me in and how he makes up voices when he reads me bedtime stories.”

“Well soon you’ll get to have all that again. Once the doctor says it’s okay for him to come home.”

“Once his shoulder is fixed next week?”

“Probably two or three days after that.”

“Does that mean he won’t have ouchies anymore? That he might be able to sleep properly? That maybe he won’t have to take so much medicine to make the ouchies feel better?”

“That’s what we’re hoping. That he won’t be in so much pain all the time anymore. Now that his knee is fixed and his shoulder is going to get looked after, he probably won’t need to take so much medicine. And he probably WILL be able to sleep properly. For the first time in a long time.”

“I hope so. That daddy won’t need so much medicine and he gets to sleep proper. He deserves that.”

Esme smiles. “Yeah, he does.”

“Momma?”

“Tanner?”

“Can I ask you something without you getting mad?”

“Why would I get mad? Is something bad?”

“Not really. Just...I don’t know...it’s just something you might be mad about. That I was even thinking about it.”

“Try me. I promise you I won’t get mad”

“Did daddy almost die? Is that why he’s in the hospital?”

“I already told you WHY he’s in the hospital. That something went wrong while he was at work and he got hurt. Badly hurt.”

“I know what you TOLD me. But did he almost die? That’s what I want to know.”

“Tanner, why would you even think about that?”

“I heard Auntie Nik and Anil talking. When we first got home. About daddy. About whether or not he was going to get through the night or not. And if he didn’t, how they’d step up and help you take care of all of us kids. How they’d make sure that we were all safe.”

“You heard them talking about that?”

Tanner nods. “It’s not their fault that I heard. They thought I was asleep. But I wanted a drink of water and no one was upstairs so I was going down to find someone. That’s when I heard them talking. So I sat on the stairs and listened.”

“Nugget…”

“I know, I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. Daddy says that eavesdropping is bad and that little kids shouldn’t hear adults talk about adult stuff. But they were talking about daddy and I wanted to know what was going on with him and why you guys hadn’t come home with us. That’s why I listened.”

“So you knew all along that daddy was hurt and in the hospital,” she concludes.

“Yeah, I knew,” he admits. “But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want TJ and Millie to get upset. So I kept it to myself. That’s why you didn’t say anything, right? Because you didn’t want us to get sad and be scared.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s okay, mommy, I understand. I would do the same thing. But did he? DID daddy almost die? He almost died once before. When Millie was still in your tummy. Did he almost die this time too?”

“No,” she lies. “He didn’t. He just got hurt really, really bad.”

“Did the bad guy really shoot him?”

“Yes. He did.”

“Where? Where did he shoot him?”

“In the back.”

“That’s not right. Daddy says that shooting from behind is a bitch move.”

She can’t help but laugh. “Daddy’s right. It is.”

“And he hurt his leg too, right? And his arm?”

Esme nods. “He broke his leg and he has to have a special kind of metal device on it; to help the bone heal and grow.”

“How long does he have to have that for?”

“A few months, maybe.”

“That sucks. He’s going to be so pissed. ‘Cause he won’t be able to do all the normal stuff he loves to do.”

“He is definitely going to have a hard time with that. And you guys know he needs to take it easy, right? That he can’t do the things with you that he used to. That he probably won’t be able to do them for a while.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter to me. As long as he can still give squeezes and kisses and read me stories, I’m good with it. And he can always watch US do stuff. He can still come outside and watch us play and all that, right?”

“Right.”

“I just want him to come home. I don’t care if he can’t do his normal daddy stuff. I just want him to be home with us. That’s all that matters to me.”

“You have a big heart inside that little body, nugget.”

“What happened to the bad guy? The one that hurt daddy? Is he dead?”

“Yes,” she admits. “He is.”

“Who killed him? Daddy?”

“Uncle Koen did.”

“Uncle Koen saved daddy’s life?”

Esme nods.

“If I say I’m glad the bad guy is dead, does that make me bad too?”

“No. It doesn’t. You love daddy and you hate the person that hurt him. I know I’m glad they’re dead.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m glad too.”

Silence one more descends on the SUV, and she steals glances every so often through the rearview mirror; watching as Tanner gently and patiently straightens a kicking and flailing Addie’s socks and fixes the tiny clips holding her already thick and unruly hair out of her eyes. He’s such a gentle soul; so much wisdom and tenderness in his eyes that it’s sometimes hard to believe he’s only five. So smart and so well spoken; logic and empathy that is astounding and normally found in someone so much older. Yet he’s still a baby; that often squeaky voice and a lingering fear of sleeping in a bedroom alone and the need for extra love and cuddles. His smile as he regards his sister is so beautiful and loving; those blue eyes and that adorable face so soft and sweet. And she’s seen that look before; one of adoration and awe. On his father every time he gets to hold one of his children for the very first time. 

“Momma?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course, nugget. What is it?”

“Do you think daddy loves me as much as he loves TJ?”

“What?” She quickly casts a glance over her shoulder. “Why would you even ask that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about it. Do you think he does?”

“Has he ever given you a reason to think that? That he doesn’t love you?”

“I know he loves me. I see it in his eyes when he says it. His eyes change. And I feel it when he hugs me and tells me he’s proud of me. I know daddy loves me.”

“But…”

“But do you think he loves me as much as he loves TJ?”

“I think he loves you all more than life itself. He’s your dad. He helped make all of you. You’re the greatest things that have ever happened to him. I don’t think you guys could ever know just how much he DOES love you. Why would you think he doesn’t love you as much as your brother?”

“TJ and daddy are a lot alike. TJ is even named after him.”

“We talked about this, remember? He’s only named after daddy because he came first. That’s it. And daddy picked YOUR name. He specifically chose the name Tanner. That’s a pretty big deal, don’t you think?”

“But daddy and I are so different and TJ is just like him. He even LOOKS like daddy.”

“You guys are twins. You BOTH look like daddy. And you’re looking more and more like him as you get older.”

“TJ and daddy love the same things. Sports and surfing and all kinds of other guy stuff. Like dirt bikes and ATVs and UFC. I don’t really like any of that stuff. Sports isn’t my thing. I mean, I like to swim and hike and fish. And camping, I like that too. But TJ and daddy both love the same things and they don’t love what I love.”

“Nugget, you don’t have to be just like your brother for daddy to love you. That’s silly. And daddy doesn’t expect you to be like HIM either. You know what daddy wants? More than anything? He wants you to be yourself. Who’s the one who gets you the learning books that are for much older grades? Who buys you older kids’ toys and books? Who is the one who bought the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy for you to read?”

“Daddy did. He did all that stuff.”

“Daddy just wants you to be you. No one else. Just Tanner. He doesn’t want you to be your brother. Or him.”

“But we’re nothing alike. I WANT to be more like daddy.”

“What would make you more like daddy? Can you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Taller and bigger?”

“Nugget, you’re just gonna be a little guy. And that’s okay.”

“Daddy’s really strong. And really brave. And I’m scared of thunderstorms and when it gets too windy. And I’m scared of the bridge at the park. Daddy’s not scared of those things.”

“Daddy’s also forty one years old. You’re five.”

Tanner’s eyes widen. “Daddy’s THAT old?”

“How old did you think he was?”

“I don’t know. Thirty?”

“Really? You should tell him that when you see him. That’ll make his ego feel good. How old do I look?”

“A gentleman never guesses a lady’s age.”

She grins. “Where did you learn that?”

“Daddy said to never guess two things. A woman’s age and how much they weigh.”

“Your dad is a very wise man.”

“I know you’re younger than daddy, though. He told me so.”

“I am. By almost six years.”

“You like old guys?”

Esme laughs. “I guess I do. What’s forty one minus six?””

“That’s an easy one. Thirty-five. But your birthday is in three months. You’ll be thirty-six. You look a lot younger momma.”

“You ARE a sweet talker.”

“I always watch daddy and listen to him when he talks to you. He’s different when he talks to you. His voice and his eyes. They change. I can’t explain it. I just know I notice it. And he smiles a lot when you’re around.”

“I smile a lot when he’s around too. Your daddy’s a good guy.”

“He’s the best. I couldn’t have asked for a better daddy. You picked good, momma.”

Yeah,” she smiles. “I did. And don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, okay? Sometimes he doesn’t show it or say it a lot, but he’s always feeling it. ALWAYS. And he loves you as is. You don’t have to be someone you’re not. That’s the last thing he would want.”

“If daddy never did the job he does now, what do you think he would have done instead? I know he was in the army before.”

“He was. In special forces. That’s where he learned all the stuff he knows how to do. When fighting bad guys.”

“He’s good at fighting the bad guys, I bet. He’s really big and strong. I bet he scares a lot of them. He has a lot of mean faces. Like the ones he has when he’s had enough of someone’s bullshit. I bet you he would have been a good policeman.”

“Maybe. Or a fireman. Or construction. It would have had to have been something that would have kept him busy. He doesn’t like to sit still for too long.”

“How would you have met him if he didn’t do the job he does now?”

“I probably wouldn’t have. There wouldn’t have been a chance to meet him if he’d done something else.”

“You could have come here on vacation.”

“Australia is a big place with a lot of people, nugget. The chances of just randomly meeting your dad wouldn’t have been very good.”

“So then it’s a good thing he picked the job he has now or you guys wouldn’t have met. And none of us kids would be here. And that would totally suck!”

“It would,” she agrees. “It would suck huge.”

“But hypothetically speaking…”

She stares at him through the rearview mirror.

“It’s a big word, huh? It’s my new favourite. Anil taught me it. Hypothetically speaking, if you DID meet daddy a different way, would you still have liked him and wanted to go on a date with him?”

“Yes. I definitely would have still liked him.”

“Because of his big muscles?”

“He’s a lot bigger now than he was when we first met.”

“But he had muscles still, right?”

“Yes. He did. Very nice ones.”

“Is that what you liked about him? That he had nice muscles?”

“It was one of the things I liked, I guess. I really liked his eyes. They’re beautiful eyes. And he had a really nice smile and really nice hair.”

“And a really nice butt.”

“Yeah.” she laughs. “That too.”

“Did he smell good?”

“He did. He smelled very good.”

“Did he smell like he does now? Like daddy?”

“It was different back then. His smell. But it was just as nice.”

“I bet you wouldn’t have gone back to Colorado if you’d met him on vacation. I bet you would have stayed here and lived with him. At his old place. Where Uncle Koen lives now. I bet daddy wouldn’t have let you go back to the States. Because he would have liked you so much. Is that why you stayed here the first time? Because you liked him so much? And he liked you?”

“That’s exactly why.”

“And then Millie came along, right? And then Teej and I.” 

“Yup. And then Declan and then Addie.”

“And the baby you’re having now.”

She glances over her shoulder. “What?”

“I know mommy. About the baby. I saw your medicine stuff. It’s the same stuff you took when you were having Addie. The special vitamins. And I saw you write the doctor appointment on the calendar on the fridge. I know your special doctor’s name. I CAN read, you know.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Nope. ‘Cause it’s not my news to tell. I figured if you hadn’t told us yourself, there had to be a reason. So I was just going to wait until you told us and then act really surprised.”

“Are you? Surprised?”

“I thought Addie was supposed to be the last one. That’s what daddy said. He said ‘no more, five is enough’. I heard him say it. More than once. So what gives?”

“Daddy changed his mind. And then he changed mommy’s mind. Are you okay with it? Being a big brother again?”

“I love being a big brother. I don’t care how many babies you and daddy have. Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We won’t know that for a while. A couple months at least.”

“When is the baby gonna be born?”

“I don’t know what either. That’s why I’m going to the doctor. To find out.”

“Is THIS one the last one? Because if not, we’re going to need a bigger house. So all the kids can fit in it.”

“This is definitely the last one. That’s it. Mommy is no longer having any more babies after this.”

“So you’re never going to have sex with daddy again?”

Esme glares at him over her shoulder.

“Wow,” Tanner giggles. “You really DO underestimate me.”

*****

The stress begins to creep in the moment they’re home. The three oldest whining about being too tired to carry their backpacks and that they’re hungry have no energy to even get into the house under their own power; dragging their feet and slumping and hanging their heads and muttering under their breath all the way up the driveway. Declan grumpy since waking up from his nap; wailing and screaming as if being torn limb from limb, refusing to walk and tearing off his shoes and tossing them into the road, then proceeding to flop on his back in the front yard and throw a temper tantrum. Addie shrieking because she’s hungry; those little hands grabbing at her mother’s clothes as she desperately searches for sustenance. 

She’s notoriously low on patience on the best of days, and the past three weeks have been a complete nightmare. Yet she remains calm; attempting to quietly reason and even bargain and bribe in order to get the kids to behave and comply with her simple orders. After all, they’re having a hard time too; a prolonged separation from their father, their own worries and fears over his injuries, overwhelmed by the enormous and drastic upheaval in their little lives. Normally she’s able to handle things a lot better; very seldomly having to raise her voice, able to rely on a few cold, hard stares. But nothing works; not even the threat of telling their father about their behaviour. That usually does it; the whining and pouting coming to a quick end because they can’t stand the mere thought of him being disappointed and giving them a good talking to. She snaps. Threatening to leave their backpacks out in the driveway all night and then letting them fend for themselves in the morning; making their own lunches and getting themselves dressed and out to the bus in time. Yelling at Declan that she’ll leave him lying where he is; no dinner, no dessert, he can sleep out on the grass if he’s going to behave like THAT. That results in EVERYONE crying, including herself. And she’s at the point of relegating herself to sitting in the front yard and having her own meltdown when the front door opens and a familiar voice calls out to them.

“What the hell kind of racket is going on out here?!”

“Auntie Riley!” Millie squeals, and all whining and pouting comes to an abrupt end; backpacks either tossed onto the grass and or dropped onto the front walk as the three oldest race towards the unexpected visitor. 

“Oh my God…my little squishies...” Riley drops down to her knees, allowing the little bodies to throw themselves at her and then wrapping them in her arms. Pressing noisy kisses to cheeks and foreheads and ruffling hair. “...I have missed you guys so much! It feels like a lifetime since I got to see you! Mildred, look at you! Look how tall and beautiful you’re getting. And you...boys...you handsome little shits! Wicked hair cuts! Now you guys really like your dad! Got girlfriends yet?”

“Gross!” TJ makes a dramatic gagging noise. “Girls are nasty!”

“Mommy’s not nasty,” Tanner argues. “Or Auntie Riley.”

“Millie is,” his brother says, and receives a slap upside the head from his sister. 

As her sister both distracts and plays ‘catch up’ with the kids, it gives Esme a chance to catch her breath and get herself under control. She can’t remember the last time she’d felt THIS overwhelmed; nerves and emotions so vulnerable and fragile. It’s always been hard when she’s gone off on a job; the worry that something will go wrong and he’ll get hurt or so much worse. But within a week -two at the most- he’s home; returning relatively no worse for wear and effortlessly -and happily- going right back to his role as a husband and father. Everything just seems so much harder now, and while normally she agrees with him that she’s strong enough to handle things on her own if it ever came down to it, right now she feels anything BUT strong.

“Pick your shit up,” Riley instructs the three oldest. “It’s your stuff, you deal with it. You’re all old enough to take care of your own crap. Give your mom a rest, alright? She’s dealing with enough. Stop giving her a hard time.” She gives Esme a sympathetic smile and a kiss on the cheek, then journeys across the grass and crouches down beside Declan. The temper tantrum has ended, leaving behind an enormous pout, loud sniffling, and the remnants of tears spilling down chubby cheeks. “You don’t remember me, do you Marmalade? Been ten months since I saw you. You had just started walking. You’ve gotten so big! You’re going to be big and tough like your daddy, aren’t ya.”

“Daddy…” Declan’s pout grows even bigger and more tears well in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you even sadder. Come here…” she drops down to her bum and claps her hands together before reaching for him. “...come see, Auntie Ry-Ry. Come and give her a hug. I know how much you love giving hugs.”

He moves onto his hands and knees, crawling across the grass and then climbs in her lap. Facing Riley with his hands against her cheeks; his eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side as his brain tries to remember just who she is. 

“Come on...I know deep down you remember...remember the vroom-vroom?”

His eyes widen and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he recalls his then favorite thing to do while she visited: stand on the vacuum cleaner while she ran it over the living room rug. “Vroom vroom,” he echos, and then wraps his arms around her neck and tightly squeezes.

“I knew you’d remember,” she lays a hand on the back of his head and presses a kiss to his temple. “I missed you so much, my fellow ginger. My red headed partner in crime. It’s even brighter now,” she pulls back and smiles at him, fingers combing through his hair. “Gonna be a little carrot top. Still look like your daddy though. Your poor momma. Took her five tries to get one that looks like they actually came from her.”

“I can’t believe you’re even here,” Esme says, as Riley gets to her feet and picks Declan up, settling him on her hip. “You weren’t supposed to come until next week. The day before Tyler’s surgery.”

“I didn’t want to wait. I hated the thought of being here all by yourself. Going through all this alone. I know Ovi Wan Kenobi is here. But I figured, why not have your favorite sibling here, too?”

“What about work? Your placement? What about school and…?”

“Nothing is more important than you guys,” Riley cuts her off, then wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in close. “I have missed you so much, MeMe. You have no idea. And you look amazing. So beautiful. Australia agrees with you. You’re happy right? Tell me you’re happy.”

“When things are normal, I’m ecstatic. I’ve got this dream life with beautiful and incredible kids and an amazing husband. But right now? Right now I am the farthest from happy.”

Riley gives a sad smile, and then presses a kiss to Esme’s cheek. “I know. I know this is some shit you’re going through. But it’s going to be okay. HE’S going to be okay. He’s tough. Toughest guy I’ve ever come across, that’s for sure. This isn’t going to beat him. Whatever is going on with his head? It won’t break him. He won’t let it.”

“It just sucks. Seeing him like that. Seeing him go to war with his own mind. He’s scared of losing it. Legit losing it. And that is one of his worst fears. Losing his mind. And I don’t know what more I can do. Other than just sit back and watch it happen.”

“He’s got people taking care of him. He’s in the right place. It’s just going to take some time. Think he’s up for a visit? I wouldn’t mind going to see him tomorrow. If my jet lag isn’t kicking my ass. Talk about a hell of a long flight.”

“He’d love to see you. I know he would.”

“I don’t know how much he’s going to love it when I kick him in the ass for ever getting himself caught up in such a mess. He should be home. Enjoying this..” she nods at the house, then at the surroundings. “...enjoying you guys. His wife and his kids. That’s what he should be doing. Not running around playing super hero. He can’t fix the world’s problems. No matter how much he wants to.”

“And we’ve had that talk. Many times. But you know Tyler…”

“I do know Tyler. I know he’s a stubborn shit. But he’s not getting any younger. And his body’s only going to take so much before it shuts down on him completely. He needs a damn good talking to.”

“Well good luck with that. If I can’t get through to him, you don’t stand much of a chance.”

“Maybe he needs someone that he can’t seduce with those pretty blue eyes and those big muscles and that big…”

“Riley…”

“Smile. I was going to say smile.”

Esme grins. “No. You weren’t.”

“Listen, I might play for my own team, but I can admire a good dick. And when your brother in law is packing and doesn’t always wear underwear…”

“Okay, let’s NOT talk about this in front of innocent ears.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know how he hasn’t broken you or how you’re not permanently walking funny. And speaking of innocent ears...look at her…” Riley leans down to place a kiss on Addie’s forehead. “...oh my goodness, look at her, MeMe. She looks just like you. You and Tyler do some good work.”

“Yeah,” Esme smiles down at the baby in her arms. “We do.”

****

She’s exhausted but can’t find sleep; her brain overrun with the events of the day. The altercation with Kyle in the park; his cruel words still cutting deep and bringing both tears and rage. Tanner’s questions and concerns about what really happened to his father; a near death experience just too frightening for little ears and minds, especially a kiddo with such a sensitive soul and vivid imagination. The kids’ horrendous behaviour upon returning home; knowing full well that they’re just as overwhelmed and worried and stressed and not entirely in control of their emotions and behaviour.

Riley’s unexpected visit is a blessing. Lifting a tremendous weight off of her both physically AND mentally. It removes a lot of strain; having someone that can help around the house and lend a hand with five little ones, a trusted ear that will listen to her rant and rave, and a strong shoulder to cry on. She hates putting all of that solely on Ovi. While level headed and compassionate, he’s very much a kid himself in many ways, and is struggling tremendously with what happened; harboring guilt and regret and feeling very much responsible for ever getting Tyler caught up in such a mess in the first place. 

The kids’ moods immediately approved with their aunt’s surprise appearance; no longer whining or pouting, sticking to their routine of doing their homework on the back deck (with Riley right beside them to help), excitedly talking her for a tour of their property and down the beach, and not lodging a single complain during dinner. Even their chores had been completely with no issues, and they’d content with their aunt tending to their bath and bedtime schedules. It had given Esme the chance to devote more time to the two youngest. Climbing into Declan’s bed and cuddling with him; letting him play with her hair and stroke her cheeks until he drifted off to sleep. Sitting down on the beach right at the water’s edge with her feet immersed; Addie pressed to her chest and enjoying her last feed of the day.

The loneliness hits hardest at night. When the little ones are in bed and the house is impossibly quiet. It’s so foreign to her; not having her husband...her lover and confidant...her best friend and her favorite human...there to pass the time with. Sometimes it’s nothing more than finishing house chores together; working side by side while washing and drying or folding seemingly endless baskets of clean clothes. Other evenings it’s eating ice cream straight out of the carton while cuddling on the couch; under the same blanket while watching tv or just enjoying the quiet. Then there’s times where -when Ovi doesn’t mind sitting in the house to just keep an eye on things- they’ll sit on the beach alongside a roaring fire. Or they’ll take a long hand in hand walk along the beach and Tyler will give her a piggy back home; always teasing her about how light she is and tiny enough to ‘pick her up and put her in his pocket’. Those little moments of intimacy that allows them to reconnect. Especially when it is so easy to forget about THEIR roles in each other’s lives; often losing themselves to being ‘mommy and daddy’ and not taking the time to interact as husband and wife. Something it had sadly taken a marriage counsellor to point out; stressing the importance of alone time and seeing one another as more than someone they’re co-parenting with. 

After years of being single and the eventual boredom that ended most of her relationships, it’s incredible; having someone that you never tire of. Never able to get enough of their face and their voice; someone who makes you smile even on the hardest and most tiring of days. Who knows exactly how to ‘handle’ you when you’re in an extremely crappy, overly sensitive, confrontational mood. 

Love is sometimes a blessing AND a curse; the loneliness of not having him close physically painful at times. But it’s beautiful as well; having that one person to make the center of your universe and them doing the same with you in return. Seeing the way they look at you like you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world; how gentle strong and calloused hands are when they comb through your hair or cradle your face. How...even years later...you still get butterflies when they kiss you; those tingles that you feel head to toe whenever they smile -that special that is reserved only for you- and they touch you so lovingly and tenderly. 

And while it's a relief to be able to contact him at all, phone calls and text messages just don’t cut it. Heart aching at not only the mere sight of their side of the bed being empty, but the thought of not having that solid body pressed against you; warm breath against your shoulder or the back of your neck or the top of your head, effectively lulling you to sleep. 

The tears always come when she’s alone. Especially after talking to him and hanging up for the nighty. Loving the sound of his voice as he tells her he misses her and loves her, but dreading spending another night by herself. And she lies in the middle of the bed, shirt up to just below her breasts and her hands on either side of her ever growing baby bump. She figures it’s a good sign considering all the issues she’s been having; the fact it IS getting bigger with each passing day. But it’s beginning to remind her more and more of the twins; blood pressure issues, the speed at which the bump is getting more pronounced, the cramping and the spotting. While she’d had the last two with all her pregnancies, with TJ and Tanner they’d been worrisome; landing her in the hospital several times for observation. And she hopes the problems she’s been experiencing are just that; more than one baby and not something serious. 

A knock comes to the bedroom door, and she glances over just as Riley pokes her head in.

“Not in here having phone sex with the hubby are you?” 

Esme smirks. “We’re far away from having ANY kind of sex.”

“He MUST be bad off. Not much keeps him away from sowing his oats.”

“He might not be able to do much right now, but he’s definitely thinking about it. WISHFUL thinking.”

“So can I come in or…?”

“You can come in. I’d actually like someone with me. I hate being alone. Especially at night. I’m just used to him being here.”

“While I don’t have the necessary equipment to fully replace the experience, I CAN spoon you if you want.”

“I’m okay, but I appreciate the offer.”

Pulling back the covers, Riley climbs into bed next to her. “So…” she reaches out and runs a palm over Esme’s stomach. “...when were you going to tell me about the newest spawn?”

“I didn’t keep it a secret intentionally. Just with everything else that’s been going on…”

“Do the kids even know?”

“Tanner does. He figured it out. Saw the vitamins I’m taking and recognized the bottle from when I was having Addie and put two and two together. That kid is crazy smart, Ry. Way too smart for his own good. We’re going to put him in another school; where he’ll be challenged more and really live up to his potential. He deserves so much better than being stuck anywhere else.”

“You know, I knew that kid was going places. Even when he was that tiny, sickly little thing in the NICU. He was so bright and so alert even then; he’d look right at me when I talked to him and he’d grab my finger and squeeze so damn tight. That was scary, huh? Him being in there? Being so sick.”

“Probably one of the scariest things...if not THE scariest… that I’ve ever been through. Doctors telling you that your baby isn’t going to make it out of there? And even if he does, he’s going to have severe brain damage and multiple and very significant special needs. That is not what we expected when I went in to have them. I knew he was having issues and that he’d need extra care, but we didn’t plan for THAT.” 

“I remember when you first got diagnosed. With that twin to twin thing. When they didn’t even think he’d make it past the second trimester.”

“It was a nightmare. That whole pregnancy. And the thought of losing one but getting to keep the other…” Esme sighs, hands once more moving over her bump. “...I don’t ever want to go through that again. I mean he’s here. That’s a huge blessing. He’s here and he’s amazing and he has no issues. But thinking about what could have been? Him not making it out of there or even if he did…”

“IF he’d had long term issues, you and Tyler would have done right by him. No one loves their kids the way you guys do. And NO ONE comes together in a crisis like the two of you.”

“I’m starting to wonder if experiencing crises and surviving them was written in the fine print when we got married. Maybe it was in the vows and I just missed that part. Too in love and blind with lust to hear everything that was being said.”

“You two have made it interesting, that’s for sure. Never a dull moment with him, huh?”

“It’s been an adventure, to say the least. But I wouldn’t trade him for anything or anyone else. He’s a stubborn pain in the ass, but he’s MY stubborn pain in the ass.”

“And a total thirst trap.”

“He is,” Esme laughs. “He really is. Can you believe he didn’t know what that was? I have a hard time accepting that, considering how good he is at it.”

“He knows though, right? About the baby?”

“Yeah, he knows. We found out when we were in Mumbai.”

“What the hell were you guys even doing there? In India? And how the hell did you end up in Dhaka?”

“It’s a long ass story.”

“And how the fuck did he wind up in the shape he’s in? What happened over there?”

“All hell broke loose is what happened. But I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight, anyway. It hurts too much. It’s just way too fresh right now. It’s hard enough being away from him like this, never mind thinking about WHY.”

“I’m going to give him a serious talking to when I see him. Enough is enough. No more of this mercenary bullshit. I get it; it’s what he’s great at and he likes doing it. But he doesn’t NEED to do it. There’s no way he NEEDS to be out there getting his hands dirty like this. Putting you through sheer hell every time he walks out the door. He’s got a wife and kids; he needs to stay home and be a husband and a dad. Get other people to do the dirty work.”

“He won’t be happy sticking to behind the scenes. You know he won’t.”

“Well he needs to get over it. I love the guy. You KNOW I do. But isn’t he tired of that life? Doesn’t he want to grow old and gray with you? See his kids grow up? Have grandchildren? It’s time to stop this GI Joe crap. He’s not getting any younger.”

“I dare you to tell him that.”

“Oh I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him a lot of things. Things he needs to hear and get through that thick head of his. Don’t you want this life to be over? Don’t you want him home? Safe and sound?”

“Of course I do. But I know him, Ry. I know what he’s like. He won’t be happy being stuck behind the scenes full time. He just won’t. And I want him to be happy. I don’t want to give him an ultimatum. Because he’ll pick me and the kids and it’ll be great for a while; he’ll enjoy being home all the time. But then one day, he’s going to wake up and he’s going to resent me making him choose. And I don’t want that. I don’t want him hating me. I don’t want him being miserable and bored and blaming me for it.”

“Like he’d ever do that. There’s no way he could ever hate you. Not the way he loves you.”

“I just don’t want him regretting choosing me and the kids. I don’t want him hating his life with us. And if keeping him happy means letting him go out there, then it’s something I have to do. I just have to suck it up and let him do it. I’ll hate it the whole time, but I’ll let him go.”

“And what about YOU being happy? And the kids being happy? Your happiness should matter just as much to him as his does to you.”

“Do we have to talk about this? The job? Because I really do not want to talk about it. It’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

“Fine…” Riley rolls over onto her side to face her, laying a hand on the bump. “...so this is where the magic happens, huh? Where all the Rake babies get made? Where Tyler gets down to business?”

“He gets down to business wherever he can manage to get himself some. Actually, I think this is one of the places that we do it the least.”

“Where was this one made?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think the laundry room.”

“Atta girl. A little dicking down in between the spin and rinse cycle. Well done.”

“It lasted longer than that, but…”

“My boy doesn’t believe in quickies, does he.”

“Nope. They’re not his style. I can’t remember the last time it DIDN'T last longer than forty minutes.”

“Forty minutes? What is he? Some kind of mutant?”

“He is a god among men, Ry. He really is. Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends. How juicy is it?”

“Just don’t tell him I talked about this stuff with you. That’s all I ask. I don’t think he’d appreciate me bragging so openly about his skills.”

“Just how good ARE these skills?”

“Out of this world good. I am pretty sure he’s not human, actually. His stamina? I’ve never...EVER...experienced anything close to that.”

“Atta boy, Tyler. Making me proud. What about his oral game? You can tell me. I’m not going to say anything to him. Unless he needs an ego boost.”

“Amazing doesn’t even come close. And he doesn’t stop. After one. He keeps going. And they get stronger and stronger and I swear to God, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve blacked out. Or how many times I couldn’t feel my legs afterwards. For hours.”

“God, I love him more and more all the time. What’s his record? When it comes to the big O?”

“Ten. In less than an hour. ”

“Are you fucking serious right now? Ten?”

“Like I said, a god among men.”

“I’d be willing to go straight to experience ten.”

“Sorry. I love you to death, but I am not sharing. He’s all mine.”

“Fine, keep all the orgasms to yourself. I’m going to congratulate him tomorrow. On turning you into a sex freak. The Esme I knew back then, would not have fucked a guy the first day she met him.”

“Technically it wasn’t the first day. We’d known each other for three days BEFORE that.”

“Still, only three days after knowing him? That’s unusual for you.”

“Something about him just fucked with my head, apparently. And my hormones. Because here we are, seven years and five kids later. Six, if we count this one. Maybe seven.”

Riley’s eyes widen. “Twins? Again?”

“We don’t know for sure. But everything feels like how it did when I was having Tanner and TJ. The bump is practically the same, the way I’m feeling is the same, the issues I’m having are the same.”

“Issues? What issues?”

“Just stuff that happened with all of them. Cramping, spotting, high blood pressure, dizziness.”

“Okay, we need to get you to a doctor. Because none of that sounds good. And that’s both the nurse side and sister side of me talking.”

“I’m going next week. I’ve felt all this before and I have five perfectly healthy kids.”

“And you’ve lost two,” Riley reminds her. “One with Tyler, one with ‘he who shall not be named’.”

“I’m fine,” Esme insists. “It’s nothing I haven’t gone through before. I know my body. There’s nothing wrong. I’d know for sure if there was.”

“I’m starting to think YOU’RE the most stubborn out of the two of you.”

“Tyler says that all the time. That I’m worse than he is.”

“I’m siding with Tyler on this one. Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll hold it over my head forever.”

“He’s going to love seeing you. I think he likes having someone around that’s just as dirty minded and foul mouthed as he is.”

“I’ve missed him. Him and that weird haircut of his. He still have it?”

Esme nods. “He still has it. Just to make me happy, of course.”

“There’s not much he won't do to make you happy, that’s for sure. How is he?”

“Pretty good, I guess. Physically speaking. He’s using a walker and he’s bitching and moaning his way through physio.”

“I’d expect nothing less from him.”

“But he’s doing good. Way better than anyone thought he’d be doing this soon, that’s for sure. He’s losing weight though. And muscle tone. He’s going to be pissed when all this is over and he’s gotta try and bulk again. I’ll become a gym widow for sure.”

“And mentally?”

“Mentally not so good. His depression is bad. The worst I’ve seen it in a long time. Since I had to lock him up in the psych ward that last time he tried to...you know…”

“You think he’s back there? That his mind is heading that way?”

“I don’t think he’s THAT bad. Not yet. I’m hoping it doesn’t get that bad. I don’t want to lose him to his mind, Riley. If I didn’t lose him to everything else, I sure as hell don’t want to lose him to that. I’m getting him help. As much as I possibly can. We start therapy next week. He wouldn’t agree to it unless I said I’d be with him. It’s the least I can do, right? I’ll do anything for him. ANYTHING.”

“Maybe it will do you some good too. Talking to someone. He’s not the only one that’s gone through hell.”

“Just seeing him like this…” her voice quivers with emotion. “...seeing him so lost and so vulnerable and so scared. He’s MY rock. He always has been. And to see him like this and hear the things he says…”

“I know it’s not easy, MeMe. I know how much you love him. I know it’s tearing you apart to see him like this. To hear all of that.”

“He thinks my life would be better without him in it. It’s like no matter what I say, I can’t change his mind. And he is so wrong. So very, very wrong. My life would suck without him. He’s my husband. He’s the father of my kids. He’s the love of my life. And I don’t want to do this without him. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“It’ll be okay. Now that he’s on meds and once he starts talking to someone…”

“I just don’t know what else to do for him. I’ve always been able to help him. And now I’ve reached a point where I can’t and I feel so helpless.”

“You’ve done everything you possibly can. There’s nothing more. You just have to hang in there and stick by him. That’s it.”

“And when it happened...when he got hurt…” the tears flow freely now. “...he called me. On the way to the hospital. He made his friend phone me because he wanted to hear my voice. Because he thought he was dying and he wanted to talk to me one last time.”

“Esme…hey…” Riley draws her sister into her arms, a hand on the back of Esme’s head as she draws her face down to her shoulder. “...just let it out, alright? You’ve been holding this all in = for too long.”

“I can’t get it out of my head. The sound of his voice. I’ve never heard Tyler sound like that. Ever. That scared. That weak. Not even on the bridge. And to hear him like that…”

“I know…” Riley strokes her head. “...I know it has to hurt like hell.”

“It keeps playing over and over in my mind. And I need it to stop. I need to stop hearing his voice like that. I need it gone. I WANT it gone.”

“It’s okay now. That part’s over. The hardest part is behind you.You can let that go now. He’s alive. And he’s going to be okay. He’s going to come home to you and those beautiful kids. And you’re going to have a new baby together. You’ve got a long life ahead of you. WITH him.”

“It was so close. He came so close. To not being here. And when I think about that…”

“Don’t think about it. Think about the fact that he IS here. Think about that. Think about how hard he fought to stay here. To get back to you and your babies. Think about that and nothing but.”

“It’s hard. Getting the bad out of my head. And I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired.”

“Well I’m here now. No more shouldering all of this by yourself. I know Ovi’s here and he’s a great kid and I love him. But he is still just a kid. You’re not alone in this, Esme. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“And what if I never want you to leave?”

Riley smiles, then pulls back and presses a kiss to her sister’s forehead. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”


	99. Chapter 99

The dreams are a constant occurrence now. Every time he manages to drift off, they return; whether it’s a pain killer induced nap or a full night’s rest bestowed upon him thanks to sleeping pills. Both vivid recollections of the events seven years ago in Dhaka and gruesome and horrifying images that Nathan’s words have created inside his already troubled mind. He can handle reliving the past, after all three quarters of a decade have passed since that week in Bangladesh. That rundown and filthy apartment where Ovi had been held, scurrying and fighting for both his and the kid’s life in the woods and then through the streets. The showdown with Farhad and the ‘goonies from hell’ and the subsequent hiding out in the ‘worst smelling sewer in the planet’. He’s yet to dream about the night at Gaspar’s or the events on the bridge; the two things that had dominated his nightmares for the first three years following Dhaka. Within the past twenty four months, it’s gotten increasingly easier to deal with; able to openly talk about what went down and the decisions he’d been forced to make and the moment he’d thought he wasn’t going to make it off that bridge alive. And lately new details have been emerging; things he’d previously thought his brain had made up, things he’d heard and tried to so desperately to say. The tears that streamed down her face and the feel of her fingers pushing through the hole in his neck to try and staunch the flow of blood. He can handle all of THAT. Waking with no anxiety or fear or even the hint of panic. Easily remembering just how long ago those things had actually happened; immediately recalling what went down, what exactly had been done to him, and where he is now.

It’s the dreams of the not so distant past that are the most troublesome. Accurately and vividly replaying the minutes (although they’d felt hours) in the storage unit; able to smell the putrid, nauseating scents that lingered on that dirty mattress, feeling the burn of the bile in the back of his throat and the press of Nathan’s knee against his lower back and the slow, the slow and agonizing slice of the knife blade across his face. But it’s the former Marine’s words and threats that bring on the most horrible and vile of nightmares; of being face down on that urine and feces stained mattress with his hands restrained behind his back, forced to watch and listen as Nathan and some of Asif’s people rape and torture his wife. Listening to her scream in agony and terror; begging for him to do something...anything...to help her. Then spewing hate and profanity at him; calling him useless and blaming him for what was being done to her. There’s dreams about his daughters too; Addie wailing in a separate as God knows what is done to her; Millie tied to a chair and crying out for him; being slapped and punched and having her hair chopped off, a box cutter making deep slices across every inch of her face before the it’s drawn across her throat. 

He had decided to take matters into his own hands; prevent the dreams from recurring any way he could. So when Shaena brought the ‘lights out’ medicine, he’d been more than pleasant and cooperative; popping the anxiety pills into his mouth and appearing to swallow them down with a half a cup of ice water. She never pays too much attention; jotting his vitals and his ‘current mood’ down on the palm of her hand, then assisting him -a hand on the small of his back as he relied on the walker and his legs to do all the work- to the bathroom. Once inside, he’d spit the medication out into his palm. Dry swallowing the anxiety pill, then wrapping the sleeping pills in toilet paper and then tucking them down into the bottom of the trash can. There was no way he was subjecting himself to another moment of one of those nightmares; preferring to NOT envision the sexual assaults and tortures of his wife and his daughters and their subsequent deaths. 

He’d rather never sleep again than go through THAT. 

The anxiety meds are just enough to take the edge off his nerves; making him slightly drowsy and his limbs feeling lighter than usual, but not strong enough to bring on sleep. It’s the best it’s going to get; a state of drug induced relaxation. At least until his mind either stops torturing him, or completely destroys him. There’s only so much even the strongest person can tale, and he knows he’ll never survive weeks...months...years...having those fucking dreams every damn night. He’d willingly accept a life filled with horrendous chronic pain over slowly going insane. He could manage to exist in constant agony; he could at least dope himself up and be somewhat protective as a human being. But once he loses it mentally, that’s it. He’ll be completely useless a husband and father; becoming an entirely different person, one that not even he recognizes when he looks in the mirror. And the second he can’t be THAT guy anymore -the one his wife and his kids need and deserve- he might as well be dead.

Minutes feel like hours; his eyes closed and a forearm resting across his brow. Getting comfortable is always the hard part; having to continuously adjust the angle of the back of the bed to reduce or increase the pressure on his back, unable to roll over onto either side because of the ‘cage’ on his right leg and the damage and nagging pain in his shoulder. He misses home; his own bed with all kinds of room to spare and that warm, soft body that either spends the night pressed into his back, or he can at least reach out to feel or move close enough to wrap his arms around. He’d spent years sleeping alone and actually enjoying it; not just having the bed to himself, but not feeling the pressure of a relationship or shouldering the responsibility of making -and keeping- another person happy. One miserable and difficult marriage had been enough, and he hated the mere idea of being ‘closed in’ by something serious; happy with the hookups he could indulge in when he was away on jobs. Women who wanted the same things that he did; purely physical with no strings attached, nothing more than giving and receiving pleasure, and then not being upset when he left as soon as he could flush the condom. 

And then he’d met Esme and everything changed. Suddenly he WANTED so much more. When he looked at her...touched her...kissed her...fucked her…he couldn’t get enough. He liked the sound of her voice and the way she laughed and how she made his heart skip a beat whenever she smiled at him. He enjoyed those long and often extremely personal conversations they had in the middle of the night; her head resting on his chest and his fingers repeatedly combing through her hair as they talked until the sun came up. He’d tried pushing her away; attempting to scare her off when he felt the slightest inkling of actual feelings for her. And when she’d stood her ground and showed that he didn’t frighten her and that she was more than willing to stick around even when he tried making it extremely difficult, he knew he was in trouble. There was no way those five days in Dhaka would ever be enough. And if he didn’t swallow his own pride and get over his hang up of trying to protect her from HIM, he’d spent the rest of his life kicking his own ass. If he let her just walk away, he’d regret letting her go. Someone who’d come along when he least expected it and made him want to be a better person. Who didn’t look at him with pity and disgust. 

She’s given him everything he never thought he’d experience. A love beyond anything he could ever fully comprehend, a new life -and an amazing one, at that- that he still doesn’t believe he truly deserves, five beautiful, incredible kids. He had always thought Austin had been his one and only chance at being a father. That his guilt and regret and subsequent alcoholism and drug addiction had pretty much vetoed any future kids; no woman would be able to put up with all his baggage and bullshit and he sure as hell wouldn’t expect them to. There was no way he could have ever seen it coming. Seven years ago, he was ready to die; taking the most dangerous and perilous job in hopes of someone finally putting a bullet in his head because he was too much of a chicken shit to do it himself. Only an hour before she’d shown up on his doorstep, he’d contemplated giving up. Sitting on those rocks underwater; staring up at the surface, his heart breaking because memories of his son were growing weaker and beginning to fade away. He’d been ready then; to just stay down there and let death eventually claim him. But something had told him not to give up. At least not yet. 

****

He’s beginning to doze off when the door opens; light from the hall briefly trickling in. . And he wonders -as he observes through heavy lidded eyes- if he’s imagining things or if he’d actually fallen asleep and is dreaming. Watching -with the aid of the moonlight streaming into the room- as Esme steps inside and closes the door with her hip. Clad in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and one of his t-shirts; a knapsack slung over her shoulder and one of the blankets from their bed in her arms. And he remains quiet and still; eyes following her as she softly pads across the tile floor and dumps the knapsack onto the little pull out couch and toes off her runners. 

She tosses the blanket onto the bed, then puts down the side railing; giving a small start when she discovers him watching her. “What the fuck, husband? Why do you always do that? Why don’t you ever speak? You scare the shit out of me every time.”

“This IS real, yeah? I’m not asleep?”

“You’re very much awake and this is very much real,” she assures him, then spreads the blanket across the bed before pulling it and the sheets back and climbing in next to him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he presses a kiss to her lips. “What’s going on? What’cha doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. For what seems like the hundredth night in a row. So I figured if I’m going to be awake, why not be awake with my favourite human?”

“I’m still your favorite, huh?”

“You’ll ALWAYS be my favorite,” she declares, a hand on his stomach as she turns her body sideways and presses herself tightly into him. “Always.”

He pushes a hand through her hair. The tip of his nose resting against her brow as he allows those dark, silky tresses to slowly slip through his fingers; seeing her eyes flutter closed and hearing the long, content sigh that escapes her mouth. His palm settles at the nape of her neck and he leans down to kiss her; soft and slow and first, her hand sliding over his stomach, up to his chest and onto his shoulder before travelling downwards. And when she begins to pull away, his hand moves back to her hair and tightly grips; the kiss now hungry and needy, tongue pushing past her teeth and finding hers. It feels incredible. Not only being able to finally share something so intense with her, but the effect it has on him. The quickening of his pulse and the racing heart, the tightening across the small of his back and in the lower stomach, the stirrings even further down. He’d actually been worried about it; if he’d ever experienced THAT again. The surgeon had even prepared him for it; that the slight damage done to the nerves in his lower spine and in his right leg AND side effects from multiple medications could prevent arousal. So it’s a relief to know at least some part of his body is working properly.

“You are so evil,” Esme declares as when he finally pulls away. “Like REALLY evil.”

“I’m not allowed to kiss my wife?”

“It’s HOW you kissed me. That wasn’t a normal kiss. You have different ways of kissing. They all send a different message. That was a definite ‘let’s get naked’ kiss.”

“So let’s get naked then.”

“Here?”

“Why not? It’s a private room.”

“We’re in a hospital,” she reminds him.

“So? Like I said, private room.”

“We are in a public place. Where anyone could walk in. While we’re in the middle of things.” 

“We’d hear them coming in. Why are you so paranoid? Remember seven years ago? The hospital in Sydney? You weren’t paranoid at all. We used to do some pretty dirty things.”

“No. I used to do some pretty dirty things for YOU. Don’t act like it was give and take. You were the recipient of my generosity. Back when I was younger and ruled by mostly lust. I’m far removed from being ruled by just lust and lust alone.”

“Sure you are. We don’t have five kids...soon to be six...for no reason.”

“Maybe you’re just very persuasive.”

“Maybe we’re just really good at sex. Like really, really, REALLY good.”

She grins. “I’ll give you that.”

“Is it wrong that I miss it? Sex? I feel like you’re going to tell me I’m a pig and that I’m wrong for missing it.”

“Actually, if I’m totally honest, I miss it too. And I’m not just saying that because I’m insanely hormonal right now...even more hormonal than I’ve ever been with ANY of the other babies…”

“Are you serious? Because you’ve been off the charts with ALL of them.”

“...but I’d miss it if I wasn’t pregnant and hormonal. I know it’s not ALL we do or have in common, but I enjoy it an awful lot when we DO do it.”

“So what you’re saying is that right now, I’m totally turning you on.”

“That’s a fair assumption.”

“And I’m saying this is a private room, so…” he brushes the tip of his nose against her temple, then presses a series of feathery kisses along the outer edge of her ear, down her jaw and onto the side of her neck. He knows exactly what buttons to push; the scrape of his beard mixed with the light suckling of his lips and the gentle graze of his teeth against the sensitive skin enough to have her body drawing tight and then shuddering. And he doesn’t need to look; knowing her eyes are closed and that her top teeth are digging into her bottom lip.

You get to know a lot about someone when you spend years sharing a bed with then. The exact spots to touch or kiss to get a reaction out of them and the perfect amount of pressure your hands need to apply. Whether or not they need prolonged and attentive foreplay or if it won’t take much to get them to the edge. If they want something slow and tender or they’re aching for rough and aggressive. And they know all of your signs and triggers as well; easily and effortlessly reading your body language, interpreting the sounds you make, understanding the different meanings of kisses and the way your eyes change through the various levels of want and need. And he uses what HE knows to his advantage; licking and sucking at the side of her neck and drawing the tender skin between his teeth. Ignoring the pain in his bad shoulder as he uses his right hand to undo the ties on the waist of her pyjama pants. Feeling her shiver when his palm rests on her stomach before sliding into her bottoms; pressing his palm flat against her already moist pussy before dragging a knuckle over her clit.

“What are you doing?” Esme inquires, then clamps her thighs shut around his hand. “Did I say you could do that?”

“You didn’t say no, so I just figured it was okay and I should just keep going.”

“We can’t do this. You know we can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Time and place, Tyler. And this is neither the time or place.”

“You really think other people in here aren’t having sex? That other patients aren’t getting laid right now?”

“I’m sure there’s a few. And as much as I want to…”

“So you’re ARE admitting you want to.”

“I'm a red blooded female. A pregnant and extremely hormonal one at that. Who just so happens to be insanely attracted to...and turned on by...her husband. Of course I WANT to. And we already know what you want…” she glances down at the erection straining against his sweatpants.

“You. I want YOU.”

“It’s not a good idea. It’s not like we can really manage it. Not with your back the way it is or with that thing on your leg. Not like we’ll be able to find a comfortable position.”

He shrugs. “So we do other things.”

“What other things?”

“Well my hand IS down your pants. So if you’d be so kind as to let me continue what I was doing…”

“You really think this is a good idea?”

“I think it’s a fucking awesome idea.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt. You were shot in the back.”

“What does getting shot in the back have to do with this? I highly doubt a hand job is going to hurt my back.”

“That’s all you want? I thought you were hoping for OTHER things.”

“Hey, if you want to do it, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Of course you won’t,” she laughs, then shoves him back into the mattress. “You turn down a blow job? Like that will ever happen.”

“I swear to God, I am the luckiest husband in the world.”

“Yes, you are. But I happen to be pretty lucky too; I’ve reaped the benefits of that beautiful, phenomenally talented mouth of yours many times over over the last seven years. So I don’t mind treating you.”

“I hope you realize how much I worship you.”

“I do,” she smiles, and kneels between his splayed thighs; hands reaching for the waistband of his jogging pants. 

He grimaces slightly as he raises his hips, allowing her to pull the sweats down over his ass and hips. “I also hope you realize that my fingers work just fine and I very much plan on returning the favour.”

“As much as I’d prefer another way, I’ll take it.” She gathers her hair in both hands, then uses the elastic tie around her left wrist to secure it in a ponytail.

Tyler grins broadly. “I always know the really good shit is gonna happen when you do that with your hair first.”

“Just so we’re clear, I am not being held responsible if this is too much for you and you get hurt.”

“You want me to get you to sign a no fault waiver before you get started?”

“Smart ass,” Esme mutters, then lifts up the bottom of his t-shirt and kisses and licks her way across his stomach. 

His breath catches, hands pushing their way into her hair. “God I love you.”

She smirks, mouth slowly moving lower. “I know.”

****

It’s almost enough to forget where he is and just what he’s been through. His body and mind relaxed and completely sated and feeling little to no pain. It’s the most comfortable he’s been in nearly a month now; three and a half weeks since Nathan had managed to break him both physically and mentally. At times he’s proud of himself for how far he’s come; shocked that he can even (with a little help) stand on his own two feet and walk even short distances. Other times he’s disgusted; frustrated that he hasn’t been able to push himself physically and that he doesn’t have nearly half the stamina and strength that he had before. And the mental issues; the up and down mood swings and the journeys to the deepest and darkest places in his own mind. The need for so many fucking drugs just to function somewhat normally. 

Now therapy. A goddamn stranger coming into his hospital room and eventually his own home -his comfort zone and happy place- to dig into his brain. That’s not a pleasant place to visit; it’s depressing and it’s messy and it’s filled with years of killing others and blood on his hands. The last thing he wants is some self righteous asshole making him ‘get in touch’ with his feelings and all of his issues. He dreads it; having to talk about his old man and how brutally violent and abusive he’d been, the horrors he’d witnessed during all his tours while in the military, and the death of his son. They’ll delve into the fact he lost his mother young and was raised by an alcoholic; how THAT’S the reason he’d wandered into that dangerous and continuous cycle of booze and drug dependency.

And Dhaka. Part one AND two. There’s no escaping that shit hole.

He doesn’t want to think about it. Bangladesh. The bridge. The storage facility. Amir Asif. Mahajan. Gaspar. Nathan. Seven years separating the moments he’d almost lost his life in the same fucking country. None of that matters right now. All he wants to concentrate on is how he’s feeling right this second. His arms wrapped around that warm, familiar body pressed into his side; her cheek nestled against his chest and both of her arms curled around his waist. His chin resting on the top of her head and his hand up the back of her shirt, knuckles drifting up and down her spine. 

He feels her move against him; her arms tightening their hold and her cheek nuzzling against his chest.

“Tyler?”

He looks down at her; head tilted back and those huge, dark eyes staring up at him. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re really quiet.”

“I’m always quiet afterwards. You’re the chatty one. And the cuddly one.”

“You like it. How cuddly I am. You could probably handle me NOT being chatty.”

“At first it was weird; someone wanting to talk that much afterwards. I’m used to it now. I’d miss it if it stopped.”

“Like I’d miss your snoring and your cold feet.”

“You would?” 

Esme nods, and he leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You know, I didn’t come here for a booty call.”

“Well you got one anyway. Or kind of got one. By the way, thank you and you’re welcome.”

She moves onto her hip and snuggles even tighter into his side. “I have to admit, it was very nice.”

“Just nice? I gave you three orgasms. With just my fingers.”

“They’re very talented and skilled fingers, though. You shouldn’t underestimate them. Are you sure you’re okay? Is your back alright?”

“Baby, my back is fine. I didn’t make things worse by blowing my load.”

She frowns. “You’re crude.”

“You like it.”

“I really DIDN’T come here for this. I mean, I’m not complaining. In the slightest. I’m just making sure you know I didn't come here to specifically use you for your body.”

“I think that’s obvious. My body is pretty fucking useless. Why DID you come here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t been able to. Our bed just suddenly seems so...weird. Empty. I’m not used to you being away THIS long. When you go on jobs, I have an idea when you’re coming home and that keeps me going; knowing when you’ll be coming back through the door and we’ll be in that bed together again. Now I don’t know when that’s going to happen and I guess I’m having a really hard time with it.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t…”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty. You’re my ‘person’. You’re the one I talk to about everything. You’re the one that listens to me and doesn’t judge me and doesn’t try to convince me I’m being irrational or stupid about things. And that’s why I came. I needed my ‘person’.”

“I’m glad you showed up. I’ve been having a pretty hard time too. Especially at night.”

“I miss you,” her voice quivers with emotion. “I miss you so much, Tyler.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

“But you almost weren’t. You came so close. And I guess I just miss US. I miss you being at the house. I miss sleeping beside you and waking up in the morning and your face being the first thing I see. I miss knowing you’re around; being able to go into the garage or the gym and just sit there and watch you. I miss being able to talk to you whenever I want. None of this phone call or skype or text message shit. Talking in person.”

“I miss all that too, believe me. And I wish there was a way to get the fuck out of here right now and go home. Because I’d do it. You know I would.”

“It was just such a bad day. It was horrible and it was shitty and…” the tears come now, spilling down her cheeks and glistening in the moonlight. "..it was so fucking bad.”

“It’s okay.” He gently combs his fingers through her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s over now. You’re here and we’re together and that’s all that matters. Fuck everything else.”

“It was just awful. You have no idea. It was Kyle and it was the kids and…”

“What did Kyle do now?”

“He said some things. Horrible things. And they hurt. They hurt really fucking bad and I can’t get them out of my head. And I need them out of there.”

“What was it about? Me?”

She nods.

“Do you want to tell me or…?”

“No. I don’t want to tell you. That’s how awful it was. Not because it’ll hurt your feelings; I know you don’t give a shit what he says about you. But because I know you’ll be pissed and you’ll go into a rage and you’ll want to kill him with your bare hands and you’re in no shape to be killing ANYONE right about now.”

“Let me guess, he’s pissed I’m even alive.”

“It just hurt. The things he said. He didn’t even care about how I’d feel hearing it. He didn’t give a fuck that I love you the way I do and that you’re the father of my kids. He just said it anyway. And he actually bought plane tickets. For me and the kids. To Colorado. One way tickets.”

Tyler sighs heavily. “I wish I could say I’m surprised.”

“What the fuck is wrong with him? Why would he do that? Why would he try and hurt me like that? Why would he want to hurt the kids? Because that would kill them; being taken away from you. And why would he think I’d even do that? That I’d take the kids from you? I would never...EVER...do that to you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that.”

“Why is he so hell bent on tearing us apart? I’m the only one in my whole family with a good marriage. Who is actually happy with their life. Is that what it is? None of them can stand that? That I got away from their bullshit and made a life somewhere else? Is THAT it?”

“Baby, I don’t know. Nothing they do or say ever makes sense. And they’ve hated me from day one. None of this should surprise you. He’s his mother’s son. And the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“It did with me. I’ve never wanted to be like that. Ever.”

“Which is why they’ve always treated you like shit. Because you refused to be like them.”

“I gave him the benefit of the doubt; when he showed up here. I wanted to believe that he was ready to mend fences and be better than them.”

“I know you did.”

“You knew, didn’t you. That he hadn’t changed. That he was here to cause problems.”

“I knew pretty much from day one. There were a couple times we had it out. That I called him on his bullshit. And he started with the whole ‘you’re controlling and abusive’ and the ‘you stole my sister and took her away from her family’.”

“That is such bullshit. You can’t steal someone that wants to go. You didn’t force me to stick around. You’re not holding a gun to my head and making me give you all kinds of babies. Like what the fuck? And you’re not controlling and abusive. In the slightest. So I don’t get where he’s coming from. Why does he go at this...at you...THAT hard?”

“He’s fucked. Like they’re all fucked. Stop expecting so much from them. Enough is enough. Just cut the strings. Tell him to fuck off. Or I will. That’s it for him. I’ve sat back and I’ve kept my mouth shut and I’ve held off on beating the shit out of him. No more. I don’t want him around you and I don’t want him around the kids. Either you tell him, or I will.”

“I told him to stay away. That I won’t let anyone around the kids that is going to shit talk their father. I don’t let anyone disrespect my husband. I’m just as protective of you as you are with me. You’re just bigger and stronger and you can PHYSICALLY protect me.”

“I don’t know, babe. You’re pretty tough for a little thing. You could bring me to my knees. I’m sure of it.”

“I have. Many times.”

He grins. “I’m not talking sexually.”

“I think YOU should tell him. He won’t listen to me. He’ll show up, I know he will. But if you tell him...like no holds barred tell him...he’ll pay attention.”

“He’s going to want to be far away when I’m out of here and I’m back to even sixty percent. Because I will fucking kill him. With my bare hands.”

“What are we going to do when he moves in with Allison? He’ll be right next door!”

“In all fairness, right next door in this case is more than a football field away.”

“Still too close. I don’t want him being even that close to the kids. Not if he’s going to talk shit about you. I don’t want them hearing that. They love you and they don’t deserve someone trying to ruin you.”

“I’ll handle it, okay? I’ll talk to him.”

“By talk you really mean lose your shit on him, right?”

“I think it’s warranted this time. Don’t worry about him, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

“I shouldn’t even have told you. You’re going through enough. You’ve got so much on your plate and now I’m bringing even more and…”

He silences her with a kiss. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You really are my favourite, you know. You’re a pretty damn good husband.”

“I try hard.”

“You do very well,” she assures him, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin.

“Don’t cry,” he lays a hand on the side of her face and brushes the tears away with the pad of his thumb. “That asshole is not worth crying over.”

“You realize you’re going to say those exact words to your daughters one day, right? When they get their hearts broken?”

“Never mind their hearts getting broke. I’ll break the fucking necks of any guy that makes my daughters cry.”

“You’re going to be breaking a lot of necks, I think. Especially when it comes to Millie. Tall, blond, blue eyes? All the boys are going to want her attention.”

“Listen wife, I don’t need your negativity.”

“I’m sorry. I know it bothers you. That thought of your baby girl growing up and having boyfriends and wanting to have sex and having to go on the pill and…”

“I’m not listening to this. I’m going to choose selective hearing from here on out.”

“...and you’ll survive. You’ll get through it without having a heart attack or a stroke. You know why? Because you’re a really good girl dad. I mean, did you ever see yourself braiding hair or playing Barbies or attending tea parties?”

“Never in a million years.”

“But you do it. To make your daughter happy. And one day a boy is going to come along and she’s going to want your approval so bad and you know what? You’ll give it. Because you’ll see how happy he makes her.”

“Is that what your dad would have done? With me?”

“No. He would have hated you for sure.”

Tyler frowns.

“Okay, maybe hate is a strong word. I think he would have been scared of you. He would have seen the tattoos and heard about you being in the military and…”

“And me killing people for a living.”

“That is not ALL you do.”

“It pretty much is.”

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree on this. But I think he would have come around. I think he would have taken the time to get to know you. The REAL you. The one you let me see the first time in Dhaka. And I think he would have seen that I was happy. With you. That would have been enough for him.”

“Are you? Happy?”

“I can’t believe you’d even ask me that. You know I am. This is just a bump in the road.”

“Hell of a fucking bump, don’t you think?”

“No one comes together in a crisis like we do. Riley said that. And it’s true. We stick together. And we always have each other’s backs.”

“Riley’s in town? I wondered why she called me out of the blue this afternoon. Said she wanted to come and see me. Which I know full well is code language for ‘I’m going to tear you a new asshole’.”

“She’s just worried about you. She means well. Just let her get it all out.”

“So she IS in town?”

“She was at the house when the kids and I got home after school. Which was a god send, because I totally lost my shit on your spawn.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“I mean, it’s really not their fault. They’re just babies still and they’re overwhelmed and they’re stressed and they miss you so much. But holy fuck, Tyler. I snapped. I’m not proud of it, but I did.”

“Because…”

“They were just so whiny and bitchy and flipping out over having to carry their backpacks into the house. And then Declan decides he’s all out of fucks for the day, takes his shoes off and throws them into the road and then lies in the middle of the front yard and throws the mother of all temper tantrums.”

He bites back a laugh. 

“It’s not funny. Okay, it kind of is if you think about it and envision it. But I lost my shit. On little kids! I’m a shitty fucking mother!”

“You are not a shitty mother. Not in the slightest. You’re an amazing momma. But you’re also a momma who has had enough of their kids’ crap. And that’s okay. I’ve had enough of their crap many times. Why do I think I leave the house and go and work out for two hours or take off surfing? So I DON’T flip my shit on them.”

“Well I flipped my shit and I feel terrible. I called them brats.”

“Because they ARE brats some days. All kids can be. I have no delusions. I know my kids are assholes sometimes. What’s the big deal? I can admit it. They can be little dicks.”

She smirks. “I love you so much right now. You always make me feel better. Always.”

“It’s my job. Among other things. Like giving you multiple orgasms and getting the snakes and the spiders out of the house and reaching things on the high shelves. And helping make babies.”

“You’re very good at that by the way. Even if they do turn out like feral little assholes. Riley saved their hides. She stepped in and took control and they listened. But I think Millie is still really pissed at me. She’s been very mouthy and obnoxious at times. Six going on sixteen.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Oh that will help. She’ll hate me even more for getting daddy involved and turning him against her.”

“She doesn’t hate you. You’re her mom. And she’s going to learn that she can’t talk to her mom like that. Not on my watch. She’s in for a goddamn rude awakening if she does that shit when she’s older.”

“I think we’re going to have our hands full with her,” Esme sighs, and rolls onto her back. 

“She takes after her mom, what do you expect?”

“Nice try. She is you. All you. Mouthy little brat. Resting bitch face at six.”

“Are you trying to say I’m mouthy and have a resting bitch face?”

“You have a very nice face. But you can look pretty mean and intimidating sometimes. You’ve got a perpetual stink eye going on.”

“I wouldn’t if my kids weren’t assholes.”

She laughs at that, then lays a hand on either side of her bump. “I think I felt the baby move today.”

“Really? Already?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure. I was lying in the tub and sort of napping and I would swear I felt it. Like little flutters. I’m pretty sure it was the baby. It’s the same kind of feelings I had with the others. Just none of them were this soon.”

“I’m pretty sure it was. If anyone knows a baby feels like, it’s you. This isn’t your first rodeo. Or your second. Or your third. Or your fourth.”

“You have very determined swimmers, I’ll give you that much. But yeah, I think I DID feel it. I think it was the baby.”

He lays a palm on her stomach. “Where about’s?”

She takes his hand and moves it to the lower left side. 

“That was Addie’s favourite spot to hang out. I think she spent almost the whole time there.”

“Remember how we could feel her head right near the end? At the top? And the doctor thought she was going to stay breech? I am so glad that kid moved when she did. I did NOT want a c-section. My body is fucked enough after all these kids. I don’t need that too.”

“Your body is fucking amazing and I won’t hear any differently. And it gets even more amazing when you ARE pregnant.”

She smiles. “You’re such a smooth talker.”

“I talked you into marrying me, didn’t I?”

“You proposed in the bathroom. Actually you said ‘marry me’ and I said ‘okay’. That’s us in a nutshell.”

“Maybe one day I’ll do it right. Ask you the proper way. Maybe one day we’ll get married the right way, too.”

She leans her head against his shoulder. “There’s a right way of getting married? It was legal. What more do you want?”

“Have you ever thought maybe I’d like something more? For us? That maybe I’d like to see you look like a bride? Not that you didn’t look incredible, because you did. I just...I don’t know....something MORE would be nice.”

“What’s gotten into you? You’re not the type to think about these things, let alone talk about them.”

“Maybe I just love you and when I think about how much I just get mushy sometimes.”

“Baby, you’re so cute,” she places a kiss to his cheek. “No wonder I love you as much as I do. And if you ever DO ask in what you call a ‘proper way’. I’d say yes. I’d marry you a million times over.”

“God your taste in men sucks.”

“I agree my taste in men has been shoddy at times, but I did it right with you. I’ll keep you, husband.”

“You will, will ya? I’m glad to hear that because I was sort of planning on sticking around.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know…” he wraps his left arm around her, right hand remaining on her stomach. “...until you’re tired of me, I guess.” 

She grins. “Holy shit, you’re in it for the long haul, huh?”

“Right to the bitter end, baby. You can’t get rid of me.”

“Good,” she presses a kiss to the hand that sits on her shoulder, then reaches up to entwine her fingers with his. “Because I don’t want to.”

He drops a kiss on the top of her head, then closes his eyes once more; palm moving in slow, smooth circles on her bump.

“I have to tell you something,” Esme says.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“You have to promise me you won’t freak out. I don’t think it’s anything serious or that we have anything to worry about. But I thought I should still tell you.”

“Fuck me…”

“I’ve been having issues. With the baby.”

His grip on her hand tightens. “What kind of issues?”

“Cramping, bleeding.”

He issues a heavy sigh.

“Like I said, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I’ve had all of that before.:

“Yeah, with the twins. And look what happened with them. How sick Tanner was. Look what we went through. What YOU went through. Trying to keep him alive inside of you. And out.”

“That was rare. There was a ten to fifteen percent chance of that happening.”

“It still happened.”

“And he made it. Look at him now; he’s beautiful and he’s healthy and he’s so smart, Tyler.”

“He is. But it was fucking scary. Seeing him like that. How small he was. How SICK he was. It took us three months to get him home. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Like I said, it’s rare. And that was a twin thing and as far as we know, we’re only having one this time. What’s the chances of having two sets of twins?”

“If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen to us.”

She sighs and nestles her head against him. “IF there’s something wrong, I mean really wrong, and we do have a baby with issues...say a disability of some kind...we’ll be okay, right?”

“Why wouldn’t we be? It’s our kid. I don’t care if there’s something wrong. I’m going to love my kid regardless. We deal with it. We learn what we can and we fucking deal with it. Simple as that.”

“Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to say…”

“Oh fuck…”

“I need to hear you tell me that you won’t leave.” The tears come again. “I need to hear you say it, Tyler. I need you to tell me that if something IS wrong, that you won’t take off. I need to hear you tell me that. Because I didn’t make this baby alone and I don’t want to raise it alone and…”

He pecks her lips, then removes his hand from her stomach and uses gentle fingertips to brush the tears away from her cheeks and the sides of her nose. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not that guy in anymore. That guy died a long time ago. I’m in this. No matter what.”

“I’m just so tired. Of everything. I just want this behind us. This whole fucking nightmare. I just want you to come home. That’s all I want.”

“Soon, baby,” he says, and places a kiss on her temple. His hand releasing its hold on hers and moving to her hair; fingers tangling in the tresses and then drawing her head down to his chest. “Soon.”


	100. Chapter 100

Despite not having the powerful nightmares meds in his system and the valiant attempt at fighting it off, rest manages to find him. The exhaustion is both physical and mental. Body worn out from not only the sheer effort it takes to heal from the enormity and seriousness of his injuries, but the one to two hours he spends daily with a physiotherapist. Brain in near ruins; weary from doing battle against itself day in and day. He’s unable to let go of those vile and horrific threats Nathan had lodged against his family, and he finds himself constantly worried that he’ll never be even half the man he was before; nothing more than a burden to his wife, who will give up on him and start searching for someone who IS what she wants and needs. It’s illogical of course. When he’s managing rational thoughts, he knows it will never happen. He knows she’s happy with their life together; he’s never doubted how much she loves him and how devoted and dedicated she is to their marriage and their family. But when the darkness settles in, he loses the ability to think straight; finding it impossible to ignore all the negative things that his mind is telling him. It’s tiring; going to war with her own brain every goddamn day. And he’d learned ago that mental agony is often far worse -and much more damaging- than physical.

The dreams haven’t made an appearance, and he’s unsure if it’s because the periods of actual sleep are so brief and light, or if it’s the comfort of having that warm, familiar body tucked tightly into him. It had done wonders for his mood; that unexpected visit managing to drag him back from the abyss. Nights are had; the emptiness and loneliness suffocating and only being relieved thanks to the multitude of drugs being fed to him. While he needs that level of care, he fucking hates it; regressing back to dependency. 

Esme being there has staved off the darkness for at least one night. It’s soothing; the weight of her head as it rests on his chest, the smell of her, the way her body slowly rises and falls against his. And even thought he’d seen her just that morning, he’d missed her. Her smile and laugh and the sound of her voice. How gentle her hands are when she washes his hair or how she’ll place a palm on the small of his back or curl both arms around one of his when helping him to his feed or while out on one of their walks. In a way he DOES like it; being taken care of. Although he’ll probably never actually come right out and admit it. He normally prefers being the one tending to everyone else; the provider and protector. And it’s a blow to the ego when you’re suddenly not able to do those things; terrifying to think that if a threat was to come NOW, he’d be unable to keep her and the kids safe. 

She stirs against him. Eyes never opening as she rubs her cheek against his chest and murmurs and mumbles incoherently. She’s been restless since drifting off; more than likely caused by the shitty day she’d had and the stress and strain of the past three and a half weeks. She craves feeling safe and secure; needing warmth and physical touch in order to settle on the especially hard nights. Taking hold of the blanket, he pulls it up to her chin and gingerly tucks it around her body and then tightening his hold on her; one hand resting on her hip, the other on her bump. And when he drops a kiss in her hair and places his chin on the top of her head, she releases a long, sigh of contentment.

He’s on the verge of sleep once again when the door clicks open; light briefly filling the room as Shaena steps inside. She moves around by the aid of a flashlight; never speaking as she fetches the cart of equipment from the far corner and then stands at the side of the bed and snaps on a pair of medical gloves.

Tyler smirks. “This isn’t the kind of exam where you tell me to drop my pants and bend over and cough, is it?”

“You’re not quite at the age of needing that, Kristoff. But if it’s something you enjoy, I charge a hundred a session.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you.”

“Not a kinky kind of guy, huh?”

“Not THAT kind of kinky.”

“Something tells me that you’ve had your fair share of dirty fun. What with five kids and another one the way.”

“I have no complaints. I don’t think she does either.”

“Out like a light,” Shaena smiles. “I’ll bring her some pillows. Might be a little more comfortable than sleeping on a brick wall.”

“She’s fine how she is. Always sleeps like this when she’s had a rough day. Says it makes her feel safe.”

“You know, that is not what I thought your wife would look like. She is NOT what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Honestly? Tall, blonde, typical ‘beach girl’.”

“She’s only a ‘beach girl’ through marriage. I told you, she’s not from here.”

“Colorado, right? That’s a long way from home. Must have been quite the culture shock; going from snow and the mountains to the sand and the surf. It’s cute. The two of you. She’s so tiny and you’re sp...well, you’re so YOU. What are your kids like? Who do they take after?”

“The first three are a lot like me, I guess. Especially my daughter and the oldest twin; they look a lot like me, and my wife says they act like me too. Rest of them are like their mom. The baby looks just like her. Only took five tries for THAT to happen.”

“Well she must be a hell of a tough little thing to handle you. I was reading your medical file, Kristoff, and I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.”

“Can you NOT call me that?”

“You’ve got quite the track record for getting yourself in trouble.”

“How do you know it isn't just plain bad luck?”

“That’s some extra bad luck when it gives a lengthy list of injuries and hospital stays. And judging by some of the scars you’ve got going on, I’d say you’ve skipped professional help more than once. You used to patching yourself up?”

“It’s something you get used to in the military. Not many doctors or hospitals out in the middle of the fucking desert or in bombed out towns. You do what you gotta do. You fix yourself up and get back in the fight. No other choices out there. It’s do or die.”

“How long have you been out of it?”

“Almost seventeen years.”

“And a lot of those scars are NOT that old. How’d you get those?”

Tyler shrugs. “Surfing accidents, cliff dives gone wrong, bar fights, doing stupid shit while I was drunk.”

Shaena looks skeptical. “Somehow I don’t quite believe you. None of that explains how you wound up here. Or the issues you’re saddled with.”

“If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy.”

“Where’s he?”

“Dead.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Dead because someone else made him that way or…?”

“Buddy of mine took him out. Saved my ass. He’s the only reason I’m still on this side of the ground.”

“And this was a work incident?”

He nods.

“What the hell kind of job do you have?”

“Private security. I go where people need me.”

“Must be pretty dangerous if you ended up like this.”

“It’s good money. I like doing it.”

“Kind of risky for a guy with family.”

He smirks. “You here to take my vitals or give me a lecture? If it’s the last one, there’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard before. And at the risk of sounding like an asshole, it’s really none of your goddamn business.”

Shaena moves the cart of supplies and equipment closer to the bed. “You’re a pretty private guy, aren’t you.”

“Do you really have to do this? Do you really need to be in here? I’m obviously alive. Why do you need to take my blood pressure and temperature and shit?”

“Because it’s my job to monitor you. I’m a nurse. It’s what we do.”

“Monitor me for what? I’m only stuck in here because I’m waiting to get my shoulder looked at. And because people think I’m crazy.”

“No one thinks you’re crazy. Do you have some issues? Yup. Are you getting help for those issues? Even bigger yup. Having PTSD does NOT mean you’re crazy. It means you’ve had a life full of dealing with some pretty heavy shit. Now don’t make my job harder than it needs to be, okay? You’re my easy patient. You’re the one I like seeing and talking to. Don’t ruin that.”

“I’m fine. I’m breathing, aren’t I? I know how to get a hold of you if I have any problems or I need to get up and take a piss. Can’t you just leave me alone for one night? Can’t you leave US alone?”

“This is only going to take a few minutes. I promise. Then you can go back to your beauty sleep.”

“I don’t give a shit about me. I just don’t want you waking her up. The last three and a half weeks have been a fucking nightmare. She’s been trying to do everything on her own; stick around to help me get back on my feet, take care of five kids, keep a baby alive inside of her. She hasn’t been sleeping and now that she is…”

“I’ll do my best not to wake her, okay? This isn’t my first rodeo. You’re not the first patient to have an overnight guest, and you won’t be the last. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Sighing heavily, he finally relents; carefully removing his arm from around his sleeping wife and then draping it over the safety railing. He can’t wait until all this bullshit is behind him; being poked and prodded at, needing help to get on his feet, the annoyance of being stirred awake just to swallow even more drugs. It’ll be better once he’s home; back in his ‘happy place’. Where he’s far more comfortable both mentally and physically. 

Esme stirs against him; eyes fluttering yet never opening, sighing and mumbling his name as her arms tighten around his waist.

“It’s okay,” Tyler whispers, the hand that rests on her stomach moving to the back of her head. Lips against her forehead as his fingers push through her hair and gently knead her scalp. “Everything’s fine. I’m here. I got you.”

She presses herself even tighter into him, face nestling into his chest as she drapes a leg over his left thigh. Within minutes she’s fully asleep once more; body relaxing and her hold on him loosening. 

“You’re the protective type,” Shaena observes.

“That obvious?”

She nods, then removes the blood pressure cuff from around his bicep and the pulse ox sensor from his index finger. “I got that vibe from you when we first met. When you talked about your kids but wouldn’t tell me their names. You enjoy being that way. Protective. And you like knowing you’re more than capable of handling anything...or anyone..that tries to hurt your family.”

“You got all of that just from talking to me once?”

“Certain parts of you are easy to read. Others not so much.”

“I like my privacy. I need it. Especially when it comes to my wife and kids. No reason people need to know everything about them.”

“You’ve made a lot of enemies, haven’t you. In your job. Whatever it is you ACTUALLY do, you’ve stepped on a lot of toes.”

“All for the right reasons though. The people I make enemies with? They’re not good people. And they deserve all the pain and punishment they get.”

“And you give that to them? Pain and punishment?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I do other things.”

“Like…”

“How about you just stick to being my nurse. It’s not personal; I don’t talk about this shit with anyone. There’s no need to know that about me.”

“Do you kill people? In your job?”

“If I have to. I like to avoid it as much as I can. But sometimes…” he shrugs. “...sometimes you can’t help it.”

“Does it bother you? When you have to do it?”

“Are you done here? Because if you are, I’d really like you to leave us alone now.”

“You know, human behaviour fascinates me. And I found YOU fascinating. You intrigue me.”

“Why? I’m a nobody. I’m just a regular guy trying to make a living.”

“There’s so many different sides to you. It’s interesting. You’ve got this big, bad and tough side and you’ve got this softer one; loving and protective and soft spoken. You open up so far and then completely shut yourself down when someone tries to get too close. You’re an enigma, you really are. Is that intentional or…”

“It’s just who I am. I don’t want to know too much about people and I don’t want them knowing too much about me. Everything I do is protect my family. That’s all you need to know.”

“I’m going to miss these chats when you’re gone. It’s nice having someone to talk to. Even if they do clam up from time to time. I don’t mean to piss you off or unnerve you when I ask questions. I’m genuinely curious about you. Your life.”

“I’m just a regular guy just going about my business. Protecting my own.”

“A lover AND a fighter.”

He smirks. “I guess you could say that.”

Shaena glances down at Esme. “I bet she’d say that.”

“Yeah, maybe. Are you finished yet? You did what you needed to do, you see that I’m alive. Go.”

Grinning, she pockets the piece of scrap paper and returns the cart to the corner. “I’ll get more out of you one day,” she says, as she heads for the door.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“You know…” she pauses in the open doorway. “...you’ll miss me when you’re out there.”

“Not bloody likely,” he retorts, smirking at the young nurse’s laugh as she steps out into the hall and shuts the door behind her.

*****

One of the perks of having -and being able to afford- a private room is having your own shower. It’s as nice as anything you’d find in a moderately priced hotel; spacious and bright, faux marble tiling and a specialized rubber floor to prevent a patient from slipping, and benches built into the sides and back. And it’s nice to be able to actually get into it under somewhat of his own power; the walker providing the stability, but his legs feeling stronger and a little more sturdy. He’s able to weight bear for longer periods of time and it fills him with cautious optimism; back not as tight and right leg healing well thanks to the aid of the metal ‘cage’ around. But there's still a long way to go. 

“You okay?” Esme asks, a protective and guiding hand on the small of his back. “Do you need the shower chair or…?”

“I’m fine standing for now. Back doesn’t hurt as much; legs feel pretty good.”

“Are you supposed to be THAT much pressure on your right leg? Is that a good thing? What did the physio say? I don’t want you overdoing and ending up stuck for her longing.”

“He said my body would know what it can and can’t handle.”

“In all fairness, I don’t exactly trust your body to know what’s good for it,” she says, and steps around him to turn on the water and adjust the temperature. “Remember the bridge? Getting back on your feet AFTER the sniper got you?”

“My body had no clue what it was doing at that point. That was nothing but pure adrenaline. I’m fine, babe. Honest. And I’m glad you’re here doing this. I much prefer you doing this over the PSW.”

“Why? Is she old and gray and wrinkled?”

“It’s a guy.”

“So you’d be okay with it if it was a woman who is old and gray and wrinkled?” she chides. “Or were you hoping for some young, hot thing with big boobs?”

“I don’t care what they look like, I just don’t like them doing it. It’s fucking weird; having to rely on strangers for shit like this.”

“You’ve never been modest,” she points out, as she wanders to the back of the shower "You’ve walked around our property naked. You’ve changed outside. Many times.”

“No one lives even remotely close to us. Who’s going to see? And I mostly do it for your benefit. Or maybe mine, in a way. I know you’re watching so why not try and get you all hot and bothered and get sexy times out of it.”

“What about when we’ve been at public beaches and you’ve changed by the car?”

“I’ve got a towel around my waist.”

“Not at first you don’t. I’ve seen you bare practically your whole ass to the world. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a very nice ass, but you’re encouraging the thirsty women. And some thirsty men.”

“Let ‘em look. Not like they’ll get to touch. You’d kill them.”

“Damn right, I would. Then I’d kill you for letting them touch you.”

“Babe, I only have eyes for you. Who cares if other people look. That’s all they’ll ever get to do.”

“Good, because that…” she reaches around with one hand and tightly grips a cheek of his ass; nails digging into the flesh. “...belongs to me.”

“Always will, Me. Always will.”

She grins. “You haven’t called me that in a long time. Me. Since before Declan was born. What brought that up?”

“I actually had a dream about it. Calling you that. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. It was one of my cuter moments; coming up with that nickname.”

“I’ve missed it; hearing you call me that. Maybe it can stick around.”

He pushes her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears. “I think it definitely can.”

“And you admitting you have ‘cute moments’? That’s a huge milestone for you.”

“I’ll never admit to it again. So enjoy it while you can.” 

He cradles her cheeks his hands and leans down to kiss her; long and soft and sweet, tasting both water and the lingering peppermint from her first tea of the morning. It gives him a sense of normalcy; experiencing intimacy with her. Reminding him that he’s still very much alive. That he has this beautiful, incredible woman that sticks by his side no matter what; loving him even deeper and harder when times are their toughest. That even...when his mind is in the darkest possible...when he doesn’t want to live, he has every damn reason to keep going. An amazing wife and beautiful children; needing him and relying on him. 

She giggles when his teeth lightly capture her bottom lip between them as he pulls away. “You’re a horrible husband right now.”

“Why? I thought maybe getting you hot and bothered would put me in your good books.”

“Not when we can’t really do anything about it. And as much as I love the other stuff, I really miss the main event. And that won’t be happening anytime soon, so maybe you should stay in your lane and keep yourself under control.”

“We could try. I don’t mind letting you be on top. Fucking hot, actually. Watching you while you’re…”

“Maybe at home we’ll try. Not here. I don’t mind trying that at home, but HERE? That’s a no from me. Besides, we’ve got a busy morning and I need to get you cleaned up. We’re meeting the therapist at ten thirty.”

He frowns. “That’s today?”

“Sorry,” she gives an apologetic smile. “I know how much you’re dreading it, but you won’t be alone at least. I’ll be here.”

“I don’t know if I want you to hear some of the things that are going on in my head.”

“It’s probably nothing I haven’t heard before. I think we’re past the stage of anything shocking me. I willingly married a mercenary. I’ve seen you do some crazy, brutal things and I’ve heard you talk even worse. Trust me, nothing could upset me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

She reaches for the body wash that she’d earlier set on one of the benches. “Are you going to shit talk me?”

“I have no reason to.”

“Then don’t worry. Just say what you need to say. I won’t bother me. Look…” she waves the bottle in front of his face. “...your favorite. Well, MY favorite. It’s you. Your smell. And I’ve missed that smell.”

“And you call me sappy.”

“I love you. Everything about you. And I miss these things when they’re not around. I miss YOU when you’re not around.”

Smiling, he pushes a hand through her hair and then cups the back of her head as he kisses her. Shorter than before, but still as intense and needy. “Why are you wearing this?” he asks, and hooks a finger around one of the straps of the bathing suit she sports. 

“To prevent you from getting carried away. I figured totally naked would really send you over the edge.”

“You really don’t think you need to be naked for that to happen do you? You just look at me a certain way or I even think of you without clothes on…”

“I think you need to behave yourself. We aren’t quite THERE yet. Besides, don’t you want something to look forward to when you get out of here? A little ‘welcome home’ present?”

“I like the way you think. I like the way you do a lot of things, actually. Especially with your mouth and hands.”

“You’re worse than a horny high schooler. Now, are you sure you don’t want to sit down? I can get the shower chair. Just say the word…”

“I’m fine, babe. Honest.”

“I’m just watching out for you,” she says, then squeezes some of the body wash into her palm and sets the bottle on the ground before stepping behind him. “You’re going to have to do your own hair though. I can’t reach and you can’t bend down.”

“Short ass,” he teases. 

“Have you ever thought maybe I’m average height and you’re absurdly tall?”

“On what planet would you be considered average height?” Her hands feel amazing; one spreading the cool gel, scented gel over his shoulders and the back of his neck, the other helping the water clear away the suds. 

“You like how tiny I am. You like how it makes you feel even bigger and stronger than you already are. You like that I need you to do certain things. Get stuff off the top shelves, get the socks out of the bottom of the washer. You like that I need you.”

“I do,” he admits. “But I think I need you a lot more than you need me.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. You needing me. You know that, right?”

He nods, eyes closing and his chin falling to his chest as her hands work; alternating behind cleaning him and massaging his tight, aching muscles and all the way down his spine. Fingertips tracing the large Nordic compass tattoo that graces the space between his shoulders before drifting down his back. Lingering over the healing bullet wound; made larger by both Nathan shoving his fingers into it and the subsequent surgery. There’s no longer a need to cover it; the stitches removed a week prior. “How’s it look?”

“Scary.”

He hears the emotion in her voice, and he doesn’t need to turn around and look to know there’s tears welling in her eyes. “Esme...stop…” he gently orders.

“Seeing it makes it so real. I mean, I know it’s there. I KNOW what happened. But seeing it…”

“Do you need me to kick you out of the shower and never let you see me naked again? Because if it bothers you THAT much…”

“It doesn’t bother me. It’s a scar. You’ve got tons of them and not a single one upsets me. Not even the one on your neck. And that bothered me for a hell of a long time. It’s how you got it that that bothers me. When I think about what he did to you and how close you came to not being here and…”

“Okay, you need to stop. I AM here. He fucking broke me; my body, my head. But I AM here.”

“I know,” she says, then issues a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset or to make it sound like it ..YOU...bothers me. Everything’s getting to me right now. I’m just on edge and bitchy and moody and…”

“And pregnant. Which is what’s making you bitchy and moody.”

“You realize this is the last one, right? This is it for us. Whether it makes it six or seven. We are done.”

“But even if it does end up at seven, I need an even number and…”

“It will have to bother your OCD tendencies for the rest of your life. I’m done. I am all babied out. I love you, but I can’t do this one more time. I just can’t. I’m tired. And my body is a mess and not a hot one and I’m never going to get back to what I was before.”

“I don’t care what you say; your body is fucking incredible.”

“I’m hardly the person I was seven years ago. When we first met. I was different then. Before kids.”

“And I’m not? I’m not exactly the same guy I was back then.”

“But you keep getting better with age. Me? Not so much.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. Most beautiful woman on earth.”

“And I love you so much for saying that. For LOOKING at me that way. I just wish I felt it.”

“I got ways of making you feel that way.”

She grins, soapy hands moving to his ribs. “I bet you do. Too bad you can’t employ any of those ways right now.”

“There’s a couple I could. You could sit on my face.”

She snorts. “I hate you right now.”

“Do you, Esme? Do you?”

“No,” she says, and presses a series of kisses down his spine. “I don’t. I never could.”

“Hey...hey…” he grabs a hold of her hands as they sneak around around to his waist and then drift lower; fingers of one hand curling around his cock, palm slowly moving up and down. “...what the fuck? I thought we were avoiding these kinds of things?”

“I’m cleaning you up. That includes your dick, you know.”

“I’ll do that part myself. I’ll get hard if you keep doing it. Stop,” he yanks her hand away from. “Just stop.”

She gives a dramatic pout and then presses a kiss to his back and pinches his stomach. “Party pooper.”

*****

“I need you to do me a favour.”

Esme glances up from the plate of blueberry pancakes that sits in her thighs. She’d gone down to the cafeteria after their shower; sparing him the long and arduous walk and the standard fare delivered to the room. Now they sit together in his hospital bed; her facing him with her legs stretched out and feet against his stomach.

“What kind of favour? And don’t say a blowjob. Because you’ve had three since last night and my jaw is sore.”

“I wasn’t going to ask for one. But I do appreciate it; you being so nice to me. Can this continue at home or…?”

“When have you ever had any complaints about our sex life? You think other guys get as much as you do? I think not.”

“I’m very lucky and very spoiled. And very much in love with you.”

Smiling, she tickles his stomach with her toes. “What’s the favour?”

“You have to promise me you won’t get mad.”

“You want me to let someone else give you a blowjob?”

He frowns. “Like that would ever happen. I’m perfectly content to get blowjobs only from you for the rest of my life.”

“Okay...so…” she pops a piece of pancake into her mouth. “...what is it?”

“I want you to shave my face.”

“I always do. I always trim your beard for you.”

“I’m not talking about just trimming it. I mean shaving it. Off.”

“Like off, off? As in all of it?”

He nods.

“First you get me to shave your head, now you want me to get rid of your beard? Are you trying to break my heart?”

“I know. I’m ugly as fuck with no beard. But…”

“I wasn’t thinking that. And you’re beautiful, with or without it. It’s just...I don’t know...I’m just so used to it I guess.”

“I’ve been clean shaven with you before.”

“Right after the twins were born. Because Nik needed you to do that job in Malta and you had to be all tidied up. And it only lasted six months before you started wearing a beard again. That’s a long time ago. Why do you want to do it now?”

“Just looking for a change I guess.”

“Are you going through a midlife crisis, husband?” she chides, and takes a sip of her tea.

“No, wife, if I was going through one of those, I’d buy that motorcycle I’ve been talking about for the past two years.”

“Over my dead body. You think I’d actually let you do that? That’s never going to happen. That’s the last thing you need. And the last thing I want is someone who already thinks he’s invincible, getting a death machine on wheels.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I had one when I was a teenager. I survived.”

“Buy another truck if you want. A bigger and better one. Or one of those quad ATV’s that you always mention. Get matching ones for the kids for all I care. But please...I am begging you....do not get a motorcycle. I worry enough about you. Why do you have to add to it?”

“I promise you, I will not get one. And no. This isn’t a midlife crisis. This is me just going through something huge and needing to make a change. I’ve lost control of everything else, right? This is something I have control over.”

“Then get another tattoo. I’m going to get a new one. Once this pregnancy is over.”

“What are you going to get? Something cute on your ass?”

“I don’t know yet. Something that represents me and you. I’ve got a lot of time to think about. I’ll come up with something. So why don’t you do THAT? Get more ink.”

“I probably will. But right now, I want this…” he runs his palms over the sides of his face. “...gone.”

Sighing heavily, she spears a piece of pancake with her fork. “Of all the goddamn things you’ve asked me to do over the years.”

“I’m not doing this to break your little heart. It’s just something I need to do. What? You’re going to stop loving me because I shave my beard off?”

She rolls her eyes. “There is nothing in this world that could make me stop loving you. Not a single goddamn thing.”

“Not even the motorcycle?”

“I won’t stop loving you, but I will put my foot up your ass!”

“Won’t hurt. You’ve got kid size feet.”

“Fuck you,” she grumbles, and he chuckles she digs her toes into his stomach.

He places her heel in his palm, then uses the fingers of the other hand to massage her foot. “So you’ll do it?” 

Esme sighs. “I’ll do it. But I’m going to hate it the entire time. Can I at least shave the sides and the back of your head too?”

“I thought you said you didn’t mind me growing my hair out.”

“I don’t mind. But Tanner and TJ just went and got their hair cut the exact same way. The ‘Tyler cut’. And I think it would be really cute and I think it would do them a world of good if all three of you matched.”

“They really must be fucking handsome now.”

She grins. “They are. They really are. They both look so much like you now. Which to Tanner, is the greatest thing he could ever hear. He wants to be just like you, you know. Especially on the outside. He’s always going on about hating that he’s the small one and that he isn’t big and tall and strong.”

“He doesn’t need to be any of those things. He’s perfect the way he is. We’re lucky he’s even here. That was scary. Going through what we did; not knowing if he was going to make it inside OR out. He’s fucking amazing that kid. Way stronger and braver than he gives himself credit for.”

“Do you think you could tell him that? Because he doesn’t seem to be listening to me when I say. Maybe hearing it right from you would. He says you’re best buddies now.”

He smiles. “A year ago he didn’t even acknowledge my existence.”

“He was hurt. He saw what went down between us back in Colorado and he held onto it. Makes me sad; that our issues affected him THAT much. The other two never seemed bothered by it. But Tanner…”

“He’s special that kid. In so many ways. So fucking smart and intuitive. I’ve never seen anything like it; a kid his age being like that.”

“But he is a kid. He’s still a baby practically. And he needs to hear it from you. That he’s strong and brave. That he’s perfect as is. Because he’s struggling with that. With being so different from you. He hates being the small one, he hates that he doesn’t like the same things you do, he hates that he wasn’t named after you.”

“It wasn’t personal. We just named the first one out after me. And that wasn’t even MY idea. That was all you. You got to name one, I got to name the other.”

“And I’ve tried explaining that to him. Numerous times. That TJ ended up being TJ because he came out first. But I swear, he’s taking it as a personal slight. That somehow maybe he isn’t good enough to be named after you.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous. He’s an incredible kid. Way better of a person than I could ever hope to be.”

“Could you? Talk to him? I think hearing all of this from you would do him a world of good.”

“I’ll talk to him. When you bring them on Friday.”

“He asked me if I thought you loved him as much as you love TJ.”

“What the fuck…”

“It broke my heart. Not because you’ve ever given him a reason to feel that way. I know how much you love him. How much you love all of them. With everything you are and everything you have. But to hear him ask that. He’s five! A little boy. A baby. And to ask something like that? Why would he even think of that?”

“Maybe I’ve done something to make him feel that way. Or maybe it’s something I HAVEN’T done. I haven’t intentionally made him feel that way.”

“It has nothing to do with you, Tyler. You’re an amazing dad. This isn’t you. This is him. Something is going on inside that kid’s head and I can’t even begin to understand it. Why would he think that way? He’s never been made to feel it.”

“He’s always been intense that way. Always been over the top sensitive.” 

And it’s other things too. You know all those things we’ve been keeping an eye on with him? Since he was two and a half? The over fixating on things, the sensory issues, the trouble regulating his emotions? All of that is getting worse. Maybe we should take and get him assessed. It’s never too late, right? And if there is something going on, we can work with him and get him whatever he needs. Sending him to a gifted school isn’t going to help all those other things. Just challenge him intellectually. What do you think? Do you think we should? Take him to someone that could figure all this out?”

“I don’t think it could hurt. We know he’s not sick. Health wise. He’s the healthiest one out of them all.”

“You’re thinking Autism too, aren’t you.”

Tyler nods. “I’ve been thinking it for a while.”

“Are you okay with it? If it is?”

“He’s my kid. I love him. Nothing could ever change that. But am I okay with it? I don’t know. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, I guess. When you know something IS wrong.”

“Well we don’t know for sure. We won’t know until the proper people look at him.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious, babe. It’s what that specialist said when he was two and a half. We probably should have made a bigger deal out of it then. Not wait until he was five.”

“Maybe we were just hopeful he’d grow out of all the stuff. I know I feel like crap. For NOT looking into it further.”

“Neither of us thought there was anything to worry about. And there hasn’t been; he’s fucking crazy smart and he’s healthy and he’s happy. He just needs help in other areas, I guess. Makes me feel like shit; that I didn’t push it.”

“So we both fucked up. We both should have taken it more seriously.”

“Well now we can, yeah? We can start calling around and finding out what we need to do and who he needs to see. Like you said, it’s never too late.”

“Let’s wait until you get home. There’s a lot going on in the next week and we need to get past all of that before taking on something else. Can we agree to that? To wait until you get home. That way you’re there and I’m not handling this all myself. At least I’m in the house and you can be there and even make phone calls if you have to. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“We always thought it would be TJ we’d be getting help for.”

“That kid is just a fucking wild one. He’ll mellow out.”

“He IS a lot like you. All those feelings and emotions he doesn’t know what to do with and then BOOM..they explode and so does he. And he loves with everything he has. Does that all sound familiar?”

“I don’t know…” he grins. “...I think you’re talking about your other husband. Maybe one of your boyfriends.”

“Because there’s just so many of them,” she teases, then finishes her breakfast and sets the empty plate and the cup of tea on the bedside table. “Do you think you could do ME a favour?” she inquires, as she waddles on her knees across the mattress. 

“Anything for you, Me. Anything.”

She lays -stomach down- against him, fingers combing through his hair. “Think we could make out for a bit? So I can feel the beard on my neck. And any other place you want to rub it against”

“Any place?”

“Above the waist, Tyler. At least for now. Do you think we can? Make out?”

“Yeah…” he grins, and pecks the end of her nose. “...I think we can.”


	101. Chapter 101

The anxiety sets in the moment they step out of the ‘the safe zone’; leaving the safety and comfort of the room and the ward in favour of meeting the therapist at his office on the first floor. He’d felt it days prior when Ovi had convinced him to swallow his pride and accept the aid of a wheelchair; the tightness in his chest, the queasiness in his stomach, the sweat that beads across his brow and gathers at his temples and the back of his neck. It’s a mixture of things. Being able to see and hear ‘hospital life’; the combined smells of antiseptic and cleaning solution, the sounds of ventilators and heart monitors and the continuous ring of patient call bells, grim faced family members hanging out in hallways. It feeds into his PTSD; reminding him of when he’d been the one on the ventilator with his life hanging in the balance, someone at his bedside that was crying and fretting over him and never giving up even when doctors advised that that would be in their -and his- best interest. It then leads into other memories; the months of painful and gruelling rehab, the worries of whether or not he’d be even half the man he was before, the stress over having a baby on the way during such a difficult and trying time. 

Simply venturing outside of his room brings it all back; seven years ago when he’d found himself in a similar situation. Dhaka, the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Gaspar’s betrayal, being taken down by a sniper but somehow fighting back. And Farhad; shooting him from behind like the little bitch he was. There’s a sense of accomplishment and finality that comes with THAT name; knowing he’d gotten his revenge and that his face had been the last thing Farhad had ever seen. But the sense of panic and dread it all brings to the surface is far more powerful than satisfaction; the tremendous and debilitating pain, eight weeks in the hospital followed by months of rehab for both his body and his addiction issues. 

Esme ‘gets it’; recognizing potential triggers even before he does and trying to come up with ways to lessen their impact or avoid them altogether. Today she takes the long way around the ward to get to the exit. Sparing him even the slightest glimpse of a badly grieving family three doors away as they prepare for an impending loss and the team of nurses in another dealing with an unruly and belligerent patient in need of a wound cleaning and dressing change. And she keeps him distracted by indulging in mindless chatter; commenting on the weather and the food they had for breakfast, mildly complaining about being goaded into shaving his beard off, and making jokes about her ‘poor driving’ when it comes to operating the wheelchair. She never makes a big deal out of an ‘episode’; never calling attention to the behaviour that accompanies them and always trying to find ways to redirect him. Knowing immediately when things start acting up; seeing the way his shoulders and jaw tense and the nervous bouncing of his good leg. And it fills him with immense adoration and appreciation; knowing the lengths she’ll go to to keep him comfortable and sane. Never looking at him like he’s an annoyance or a nuisance; never treating him like he’s broken and beyond all repair.

“Are you okay?” Esme asks as they wait for the elevator; lightly ruffling his hair and squeezing his shoulders before stepping around to the front of the wheelchair. “You good?”

“I’m good.”

“Can you lift your bad leg just a tiny bit? Without it hurting?”

He nods and does as requested, reaching out as she leans over to curl his index finger around the rose gold chain she sports; the little wire cage that holds the piece of beach glass Millie had found and his wedding ring dangling from it. Waiting until she finishes fluffing and adjusting the pillow that helps keep the right leg comfortable before pulling her down into a kiss. 

She’s smiling when she pulls away, and he notices the glow to her face and the way her eyes sparkle; the two telltale signs of all her previous pregnancies. She’s always beautiful; the most incredible woman in the world as far he’s concerned. But when she’s carrying a baby...HIS baby...she becomes even more so; her cheeks filling, her skin brightening, hair becoming thicker and more glossy. And as the baby grows inside of her, so does his attraction towards her; the added curves to her body, the smooth skin, the fuller breasts. She’s phenomenal; his best friend and the love of his life.

“What was that for?” she asks, and pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“I just wanted to kiss you. Maybe I like kissing you.”

“Maybe I like kissing YOU,” she retorts, and places her hands on his shoulders and presses her lips to his. It’s long and soft and sweet; his finger still curled around her necklace, other hand resting against the side of her face. 

She smells so good; a combination of coconut, milk, and honey. The same shampoo she’s been using for years; so familiar and alternating between alluring and soothing It reminds of him of home; a scent that he relates solely to her and fills him with warmth and comfort brings forth only the best of memories. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks. “I know this isn’t your thing. Going to talk to someone.”

“It’s what I have to do, right? To get better. Upstairs at least.”

“It’s a start. And I think it’ll be good for both of us. We have a lot of shit we’re hanging onto. It’ll make us better. Stronger. And THAT’S what I want. I don’t want this breaking us.”

“That’s the last thing I want. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Just tell me what it is and I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“I just want you to get better. Dhaka almost took you from me TWICE. I didn’t lose you either of those times and I sure as hell won’t lose you to your own mind. That’s not gonna happen. Not on my watch.:

He grins. “You’re pretty feisty.”

“You like me this way.”

“Oh, I more than like you,” he says, hand sliding to the back of her neck and pulling her down once more. The kiss is longer and much more intense; the tip of his tongue swiping across her before delving further into her mouth. He’s never felt THIS desperate; the ache inside of him and nearly unbearable. He craves not just the intimacy, but the sense of normalcy it would bring. The escape it would provide him with. He needs that with her; the closeness and the comfort that he’d never experienced with anyone else. 

“Maybe after this we can get lunch,” she suggests, when the elevator arrives and she pushes the wheelchair inside; maneuvering it to face the door. “I’m already hungry again.”

“Well you ARE eating for two. Maybe even three.”

“Maybe,” she singsongs and rests her hand on his shoulders; fingers kneading and massaging before her body leans into the back of the wheelchair and her palms slid over his chest and down his stomach. “We find out in four days. Finally. It’s been weird; not knowing anything this far into it.”

“My math is shit, but if if happened the first time we had sex after Addie, you’d be…” he frowns, attempting to work with the numbers in his head but unsuccessful. It’s disheartening; the confusion and the clutter that still exist. And he wonders how much of it is the worsening of his cognitive skills thanks to the existing brain injury, or the amount of medication he’s on. Either or, it’s frustrating when something so simple becomes so difficult.

“No more than fourteen weeks,” she says, tone gentle and non judgemental. “Which is still a lot further than I’ve gotten with any of the others. We knew about all of them pretty quick.”

“Things were crazy. We didn’t really get a chance to get you to a doctor.” Fuck. The guilt hits hard. The realization that he’s the reason why neither she or the baby had been checked out sooner; dragging her to Mumbai and then needing her help in Dhaka, followed by his stay in the hospital there and here at home. What if there IS something wrong? That waiting too long has somehow been detrimental to her and the baby’s well being? He’d never get over that; unable to forgive himself if something happened to either of them.

“Stop that,” Esme gently orders, both arms tightly wrapping around his neck, tip of her nose pressed against his temple. “

“Stop what?”

“You’re hating on yourself. For things getting this far without me seeing a doctor. You’re thinking about all the bad things that COULD be wrong. You’re blaming yourself that I didn’t get looked at sooner.”

A smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. “You’re good.”

“I know you so well, Tyler. I know what your brain is like on GOOD days, never mind bad ones. It isn’t your fault, okay? None of this is your fault. Had Nathan NOT been a psychopath, none of this would have ever happened and we would have been home...together...weeks ago. There’s no way you could have known what he was capable of.”

“That’s twice I’ve turned my back on a situation and got royally fucked. And not fucked in a good way, either.”

“And the second is all on me. If I hadn't called you…”

“Now who is blaming themselves?”

“I can’t help it. That’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last three and a half weeks.That if I hadn’t called you, Nathan never would have been able to overpower you like that. And if I’d figured out the first papers sent to me weren’t legit…”

“You know that, we’re not going to do this. I’m not going to blame myself for you not getting to a doctor sooner, and you’re not going to blame yourself for Nathan. And if you’re doing it because of what I said when I was still in the hospital in Dhaka…”

“That’s NOT why I’m doing it. I know you weren’t in the right frame of my mind; when we had that fight and you said the things you did. It hurt, but I know you didn’t mean it. You were scared and confused and in pain and you lash out. You don’t do and say hurtful things intentionally. That’s not who you are.”

“There’s no fucking excuse. For what I said. I’m just a huge dick sometimes. And I’m a dick to the wrong people. The ones who don’t deserve it. And I’m sorry. For the shitty things I said to you.”

“I know you are, ” she presses a handful of kisses to his cheek. “And I’m over it. So you should be too. Let’s talk about something else, okay? Let’s talk about next week. The ultrasound. Finally going to find out just how many are in there.”

“I’m putting my money on two.”

“You would,” she pouts and nuzzles the tip of her nose against his temple and places a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You would wish that on me.”

“Just going by the size of the bump and the things you’re going through, it’s eerily similar to TJ and Tanner.”

“For once, I’m going to agree with you.”

“You agreeing with me? That doesn’t happen often. I’ll have to mark this down; date, time, the whole nine.”

“I agree with you a lot. I just don’t tell you sometimes. Just to keep your ego in check. And I wish you were able to come to the appointment,” she gives a dramatic pout and releases her hold around his neck and places her hands on his shoulders once again. “You’ve never missed a first ultrasound. You even came all the way back to Colorado from that job in Prague. Just for the appointment. Then you went all the way back to get things done. THAT’S dedication. That’s pride in one’s handy work.”

“After what happened before we made Declan, I wasn’t missing that ultrasound. And I know you hate hearing this, but things do happen for a reason. Maybe there would have been something horribly wrong with the bay. Maybe that’s why things didn’t work out. I try to remind myself all of that. Makes me feel better when I try to rationalize it.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe there would be an issue. One that we wouldn’t have been able to deal with. Something that would have killed the baby and most possibly me. Maybe that’s why it happened. Doesn’t make it easier to accept, but it does take the sting out a bit.”

“Just think, IF we’d had that baby, Declan wouldn’t be here. And who knows; maybe we would have stopped at four. And then Addie wouldn’t be here either.”

“And I wouldn’t trade any of them for anything in the world. Although TJ Is testing me. Big time.”

“That kid can be a real asshole.”

“He’s you,” she laughs. “He is all you, baby. Head to toe, inside and out. There’s no way you could ever deny him, that’s for sure. He’s you in kid form. What the hell did I ever do to deserve THAT?” 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“Hate’s a strong word. Strongly dislike, perhaps. He’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days. All these gray hairs? They are all from him. He just has no fear. And I want to say that’s a good thing; that he’s so free spirited and brave and just goes balls to the wall with everything. But at the same time, my heart can not take his shit.”

“Just wait until he’s a teenager. You think it’s hard now…”

“You are in charge of him. He’s all yours. You can handle him. I’ll take the easy twin.”

“What about Millie? She’s going to take both of us.”

“Let’s not even talk about her. She’s six going on sixteen and I could strangle her some days. She’s so mouthy. And then ten minutes later she’s all cuddling up to me and wanting all kinds of love and attention.”

Tyler grins. “I wonder who THAT sounds like that.”

“Okay, maybe I am a bit difficult at times,” Esme admits.

“A bit? Let’s not sugar coat it. You’re a handful all the time.”

“But you put it with it. You haven’t ran for the hills yet. So you must be enjoying yourself. Seven years and five kids into it, and you’re still hanging in there.”

He tilts his head back and smiles up at her. “I’m not going anywhere. I kind of like where I am.”

“Good. Because I kind of like having you around.”

He tilts his head back and smiles up at her. “You know, somehow, we actually WORK.”

“We do. And to think, all those people that doubted us and we’re the ones that are still together. Feels good; to prove them wrong.”

“It does. I guess I’m not as bad as your family thinks I am.”

“Not even close,” she declares, and kisses him. “I really wish you were coming to the appointment. I appreciate Koen coming down and taking me, but it’s not the same. It’s always US. It’s going to feel weird with him there.”

“I wish I could be there too.” He hasn’t told and will most likely keep it a secret; Ovi coming through with his promise to talk to the those in charge and arrange for him to be allowed out of the hospital for a few hours. He’d rather it be a surprise; looking forward to seeing the expression on her face when he arrives. He figures it it’s the least he can do; give her a reason to smile after the shitty, horrible month they’ve experienced.

“I’ll get you your picture though. But I’ll wait until you get home; so you can put it on the fridge yourself. Let’s not disrupt THAT tradition.”

“Are we going to make a friendly wager on this one too? Like we did with Addie?”

She places her chin on his shoulder and kisses the side of his neck. “What do you have in mind?”

“If it’s just one, I’ll do diaper duty for the first two months. No questions asked, no hesitations. I’ll do it.”

“That sounds fair. And if it IS more than one?”

“You finally admit...to everyone we know...that I have super sperm.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Seven kids, two sets of twins. There’s no better time to admit. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that they’re super, but I think it’s time you admit it yourself.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Fine. If it IS twins…”

“Or more.”

“Don’t do that to me. Two at a time is enough. Don’t wish more on me.”

“It could happen. Multiples run in your family. There ARE two sets of triplets. Two different brothers. So…”

“That means it runs in the males. It wouldn’t have an effect on me.”

“Just humour me, babe. I’ve had a shit month. Give me this at least.”

“Fine. If it is two or more, I will admit to everyone we know that you have super sperm. I will even post it on instagram and facebook. For everyone we know to see. Sound fair?”

“Sounds reasonable to me. And when do I get this back?” He reaches up to lightly tub on the ring that dangles from her chair. “Feels weird not wearing it.”

“After your shoulder surgery. So that you don’t have to keep taking it on and off. You know, it’s seen better days. It’s all scratched and scuffed up. Maybe it IS time to get a new one.” 

“I like this one. It’s the original. Still fits, still looks fine. Why replace it?”

“Haven’t YOU been the one saying for years you were going to trade up for something better?”

“I changed my mind. I don’t need a different ring. I’m attached to this one.”

“I never thought I’d hear you admit to that; getting attached to an inanimate object.”

“I get attached to objects all the time. Look how obsessed I am with your tits and your ass.”

Smirking, she runs her hands along his shoulders and down his chest; palms against his stomach as she leans down to kiss him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

****

He introduces himself as Doctor Ben Klein and profusely apologizes for both his appearance -bare feet a pair of black board shorts accented with neon orange, an Emery surfboards t-shirt still damp at the small of the back and along the neck- and his tardiness; losing track off time as he caught some waves during a break between patients. Mid to late forties; a head of full curly, greying hair worn in a small ponytail and tattoos gracing the length of both forearms. It’s quite the change from any therapist appointment or marriage counselling session Tyler has attended in the past; held outside on a small patio facing the ocean, comfortable rattan furniture decorated with colourful pillows, offered a wide variety of beverages. 

It’s easy to forget where you are; the expanse of pristine, white sand, the ocean a brilliant and inviting aquamarine, the sun beating down and glistening on the waves. The weather is perfect for surfing. The temperature neither too chilly that it requires a wetsuit, or too hot that you’re uncomfortable, the wind harnessing just enough power to create some impressive swells. He misses it; being out there either alone or with his kids. It’s been a huge part of his life since he was young and one of the main reasons they’d chosen the house they did; beachfront access not only providing incredible views, but giving him the opportunity to share one of his passions with his children. He’d never gotten the chance with Austin, making the military his priority instead of his family. 

“You surf?” 

Doctor Klein’s voice cuts through his reverie, tearing his attention away from the ocean.

“That look in your eyes,” the other man explains. “Only a surfer looks at the ocean that way. All that love and admiration and passion. One of your hobbies?”

“Been doing it since I was a kid. Grew up in Port Douglas; a place right on the beach. Always loved the water. My mum got a guy she knew to teach me.”

“You didn’t have a father?”

“I did. Most of the time I wished I didn’t. He’s never really been the dad type. I don’t think he really wanted kids. He made that pretty apparent from day one.”

“And you? You have kids?”

“What does that have to do with me surfing?”

“Just trying to make small talk before we get underway. Do you? Have children?”

“I have five. One on the way.”

“Big family.”

He nods. 

“Do any of your children share your passions?”

“My oldest son and my oldest daughter love to surf. And they’re both really good. Damn good. Not afraid of being out there in the slightest. We’re an outdoorsy family; we spent a lot of time in the water, fishing, hiking, camping.”

“And you get a lot of those times together? As a family?”

“As much as we can. It’s important to us; my wife and I. We make it a priority; spending quality with the kids. Some of them need different things. My one son...we think he’s on the Autism spectrum...he’s a lot different than I am. He’s very into books and quiet activities. Very smart. He likes when it’s just us; when I get the chance to do something with just him. I try to make it happen; to give him what he needs.”

“And do you think you do a good job at that? Giving him what he needs?”

“I like to think I do.”

“How about your other children? Do you think you’re doing a good job with them?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I think I am. They’re happy and they’re healthy and pretty well adjusted, I guess. Sometimes I worry about it; if I’m doing enough for them, spending enough time with them. If I’m the best father for them.”

“I think all parents wonder that. If we’re doing anything, if there’s something more we could be contributing. It must be hard; not having your own father figure growing up.”

“It’s the reason I try so hard. I don’t want to be anything like him. My kids deserve better than that.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah…” he nods slowly as he considers the words; eyes once against drifting towards the ocean. He wonders if the change in location is actually a ploy on the doctor’s part; maybe even a little bit on his wife’s as well. Using his love for the water and the way it soothes and relaxes him as a way to get him to open up easier. It’s clever, and not at all surprising. And he imagines that even the nurses in charge of his care have had something to do with it; likely describing him as hard to manage and quick to shut them down when they begin pressing their luck. 

“Sorry about that,” Esme gives a sheepish smile as she steps onto the patio, cell phone in her hand. “That was the kids’ school and one of my twins forgot to get me to sign a permission form so he could go on a field trip this afternoon. Teacher called, disaster averted, everyone’s happy again.”

He smiles up at her as she approaches, then lays a hand on the small of her back as she sinks down beside him. He can’t help himself ; that need to help her and keep her safe even stronger since returning from Dhaka. The last three and a half weeks have been sheer hell; terrified that if a threat evolved towards her and the kids, he’d be powerless to stop it. And he’s always prided himself on being able to handle any situation; the knowledge that he’s more than capable of protecting his family.

She returns the smile with one her own; bright and reassuring and successfully chipping away at some of his edge. He already feels as if he’s said too much; mentioning his father and hinting at the discord between them. It’s nothing he likes to talk about even if with people who DO know him. “You okay?” she asks, and pats his knee between running her hand up and down his thigh. “You gonna be alright?”

“I’ll be alright,” he assures her, and leans in to press a kiss to her temple before laying a hand over hers as it rests on his thigh. Squeezing it tightly between entwining his fingers with hers.

“How long have you been married?" Doctor Klein inquires, as he snags a Macbook from the chair beside him and opens it in his lap.

“Six and half years,” Esme replies, and reaches for the mug of tea on the table between them.

“And by all intents and purposes would you both consider it a healthy relationship or…”

“We’re not here for marriage counselling,” Tyler interjects. “I thought we were here because I’m going nuts or I’m already there. Isn’t that what we’re here? To get to the bottom of my shit? Figure out what the hell’s wrong with my brain?”

“You’re not going nuts,” Esme says, and tightens her grip on his hand. “And you haven’t gone nuts, either. You’re just dealing with some really heavy stuff. That’s all we’re here about. Not to make you feel attacked or ganged up on or anything like that.”

“I think it’s important I get to know BOTH of you,” the doctor explains. “In essence, you’re both my patients. What affects you, also directly and indirectly affects your wife. So by helping you, I’m helping her. And that’s important, I think. So let’s chat. I’m meeting you both for the very first time. There won’t be anything too deep or uncomfortable the first session. You’ve been married six and a half years. Would you consider it a healthy six and a half years?”

“Well we’ve had our issues,” Esme says. “Doesn’t everyone? Isn’t that part of it? Doesn’t that just come with being married?”

“Depends what the issues are. Are you talking about something like infidelity or…?”

“No!” she exclaims. “No! Nothing like that. We’ve both been faithful. We’ve never had THAT issue. It’s nothing that bad, I don’t think. I mean, we both have fiery tempers and we’re pretty stubborn and neither of us like to admit we’re wrong. That’s bound to cause problems, right? Every couple has problems.”

“Could you be more specific about the problems? Is there a certain thing that you find yourselves struggling with or…?”

“I’m an alcoholic,” Tyler admits. “And a drug addict.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “Not an active alcoholic. He hasn’t drank heavily...on a regular basis...in a long time. And it’s painkillers. Strong ones. Not crack or heroin or anything like that. Why would you say it like that?”

“What? I am an alcoholic AND an addict. It’s the truth, yeah?”

“It is. I just didn’t expect you to be so open about it. I thought maybe a couple sessions down the road, not right away.”

“Gotta be honest, right? It’s the only way any of this is going to work. Didn’t we learn that the first few times we did something like this? Be totally honest? I’m being totally honest.”

“We’ve been to therapy,” she addresses the doctor. “A few times. Marriage counselling, mostly. Some solo stuff too; mental health related.”

Doctor Klein busies himself typing the information into the laptop. “And the last time you attended marriage counselling?”

“Before our daughter was born,” Esme responds. “That was almost five months go. And it was before I was put on bed rest so maybe, I don’t know, seven months ago? Almost eight?”

“And you never went back?”

“We haven’t had time. We’ve been busy. Very busy. We have five kids. And he has his job and…:”

“She hates my job. She thinks I should give it up and stay home. Just be a husband and a dad, that’s it.”

“For the record, I don’t HATE his job. His job scares me. I worry about him and he thinks I shouldn’t. He thinks I should just be able to turn that off when he goes away. That I shouldn’t worry about him at all . That I should just kiss him goodbye and that’s it and not even think about what kind of danger he could be in and ‘is he going to even come home this time?’. I’m sorry. I worry. It’s who I am. I worry about the people I love. And I love him.. More than I ever thought I’d love another human being. I shouldn’t have to apologize for loving someone and worrying about them.”

“I don’t expect you to apologize for it. And I don’t expect you to not worry about me. I just wish you wouldn’t worry so much. I know what I’m doing. I was doing the job long before I met you and I survived, didn’t I? I never got killed. I lived long enough to meet you.”

“You not getting killed was not for lack of trying. When we met, you had a death wish. A really big one. And sometimes I wonder if you still do.”

“Let’s back up a couple steps,” Doctor Klein calmly suggests. “You say she hates your job. What is your job?”

“I kill people.”

“That isn’t what he does,” Esme objects. “Well, sometimes he has to kill people. But it’s people who deserve it. Really bad people. Like, horrendously bad. Evil, disgusting, poor excuses for human beings that hurt good people; people who can’t stick up for themselves. He kills bad people to save good people.”

“Don’t do that,” Tyler says. “Don’t romanticize it like that. Just say what it is.”

“He’s a mercenary. He gets paid to take out shitty people in order to help good people. It isn’t the other way around; he’s not out there gunning down good people for money. He’s killing assholes to keep someone else alive. And himself alive, most of the time.”

“See why she hates my job?”

“I don’t hate it. I already said. I’ve never hated it. I do NOT hate your job. It’s how we met, right? I met you through the job. So I knew right away who you were and what you did for a living. And I still chose to get involved with you. I still stayed with you, didn’t I? When everything went to shit? I stayed by your side in Dhaka and then In Australia. Did I leave? Did I get scared away by the job? No. I stuck around. I still stick around. So I think it’s safe to say I don’t hate your job. It SCARES me. Do you blame me for being scared? For being worried about you?”

“No, babe. I don’t blame you. I just wish you’d trust me more. I know what I’m doing when I’m out there. I’m not some rookie. You need to trust me more.”

“I trust YOU. It’s other people I don’t trust. I can’t just watch you walk out there and not worry about what’s happening thousands of miles away. I know how good you are. I’ve seen the things you can do. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry when my whole heart is out there walking around, putting himself in danger.”

“You can understand where she’s coming from, I’m sure,” the doctor says. “Why she worries like she does.”

“Of course I do. I worry about her all the time. Maybe too much, sometimes. She says I’m over protective. I think I have a reason to be. We’ve been through some really tough, bloody shit. I’ve almost lost her. Twice. I just had some pretty awful fucking people threatening her and my kids. That’s why I’m like this,” he nods down at the cage on his leg. “It’s why my body is so messed up. Because I was protecting my family. What if they had gotten to them? What if those threats came true and they followed through on all the sick, disgusting crap? I would have lost her and my kids and I would have put a gun to my head and pulled the fucking trigger.”

“He had every right to be protective,” Esme admits. “I’m definitely not denying that. I’m not saying he didn’t have a reason. This time there WAS a legitimate threat. But other times…”

“She thinks it’s all in my head. That I’m paranoid and reading too much into things. That I shouldn’t be as protective as I am. Wouldn’t you be protective if some guy at the grocery store grabbed her ass? If someone other loser followed her home from the post office? WHILE she was pregnant?”

“Those were just two guys who wanted some attention. That’s it. Just overzealous men who couldn’t take no for an answer. I told them both I was married. They just didn’t believe me.”

“Or didn’t care. She had my kids with her. At the grocery store. When the guy grabbed her ass. They’re the ones who told me about it. Not her. My kids.”

“I didn’t see a reason to tell him,” Esme explains. “I handled it. On my own. I told him where to go and how to get there. I’m not some weak, helpless little girl. I know how to take care of myself. So I did. What is the big deal? If it bothered you so bad that I never told you, why didn’t you say anything? You could have just said something instead of waiting until now to bring it up!”

“I didn’t think I had to tell you that it bothered me. I thought it would be pretty obvious. You think I like other men acting like that? Grabbing your ass in front of my kids? Following you home? I should be okay with that?”

“I never said you had to be okay with it or like it. And I never intentionally kept it from you. I handled it. There was no reason to get you involved. I wasn’t purposefully hiding it from you. I know you don’t like the thought of other men giving me attention and coming onto me and…”

“Do you blame me? Do you really blame me?”

“But you expect me to be okay with all the thirsty women that bat their fuck me eyes at you? Who give you their numbers in the drug store and at the soccer park and in bars. I’m supposed to be okay with that? That all kinds of women want in your pants? You expect me to be fine with it?”

“I never said you had to be fine with it. I said you shouldn’t WORRY about it. That it shouldn’t matter what these women do or what they say. I don’t give a fuck about any of them. Let them look, let them try and get my attention, let them pass their phone numbers over. Do I not hand the numbers back or rip them up in front of them? Is that not what I do?”

“Yeah,” she admits. “It is.”

“Do I not tell them that I’m married? That I love my wife? Do I not say that?”

“Yes. You do.”

“Then what the fuck, Esme? I love you. I’ve always loved you. I always WILL love you. I don’t give a shit about any of them. You’re the only that exists in the world to me. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t what I’m saying right now enough for you? Am I not enough for you?”

“You know you are. This isn’t about you. It’s about them! You have no idea what it feels like. To hear the things they say. Not just about you, but about me. They don’t hide it. They talk about how hot and amazing you are and say shit like ‘ why a guy like him be with someone like her?’. About how you’re obviously slumming or you stay with me because you feel trapped by all the kids we have.”

“And how many times have I told you that none of that is true? That I don’t feel trapped or stuck. I’m with you because I love you. Because you're the only woman I want. You’re the only woman I’ll EVER want.”

“Have you ever cheated?” Doctor Klein inquires.

“Who?” Tyler asks. “Me? No. I’ve never cheated on my wife. I’ve never wanted to, let alone done it.”

“Have you had the opportunity?”

“Yeah, I have. Many times. And she knows that. I’ve never hid that from her. I’ve always been honest about it. She even knows who it is.”

“Nik,” Esme scowls. “His ex boss. And his ex fuck buddy or whatever she was.”

“It was before I met her,” Tyler explains. “And I told her about it. I never hid that from her.”

“She spent seven years trying to break us up,” Esme says. “Every chance she got, she tried to ruin things. She even tried to put it in his head that our daughter wasn’t even his. While I was pregnant AND after she was born. And there’s no way you can deny that that little girl is his. She looks just like him.”

“And I never once believed she wasn’t mine. Did I ever doubt she was? Did I ever once say to you ‘I don’t think the kid is mine’?”

“Yeah. You did. When I first told you I was pregnant. You asked ‘is it mine?’.”

“I was shocked. I had nearly died two months before. We spent what? Five days together? We didn’t know each other that well. And you announce you’re having a baby. I was surprised. It just came out. But have I ever questioned it AFTER that? Have I ever asked even once if she was mine? Have I ever doubted it?”

“No. You haven’t.”

“Then what fuck what Nik says. I knew she was mine. Who gives a shit what anyone else thinks? This is one of her problems. She cares too much about what other people think and what other people say. Ask her about her family. Ask her about how much they hate me and all the shit they say. Ask her about that.”

“No. Don’t ask about my family. Why are we even talking about me? We are not here for me. We are here for YOU. Why am I getting thrown under the bus?”

“No one is throwing you under the bus,” the doctor assures her. “And while essentially my goal is to help Tyler, it does help to get to know both of you and the issues you’re both facing. By helping him, I in turn can also help you. Or refer you to someone who can. Do you have mental health issues?”

“I do. I’ve had them since I was a teenager. I have clinical depression and an anxiety disorder. Both diagnosed.”

“She has PTSD too,” Tyler speaks up. “But no one seems to want to take the time to diagnose her with that.”

“We SUSPECT I have PTSD. But he’s right; no one does seem to have the time to get to the bottom of it.”

“I can take you on as well,” Doctor Klein suggests. “Or refer you to a female therapist if you’d rather. It’s very important that you take care of yourself. And getting the right diagnosis is the start. Do you take meds? For the depression and anxiety?”

“When she feels like it,” Tyler says. “She’s supposed to take them every day. But she goes weeks...sometimes even months...without taking them. She thinks she can just go on and off of them without any consequences. She says they make her feel weird. I tell her they wouldn’t if she took the damn things properly.”

She scowls. “There you go again. So willingly sacrificing me so you don’t have to talk about yourself.”

“That is not what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, it is. That’s exactly what you’re doing. Because you hate talking about yourself. Especially to strangers. There’s nothing you hate more than someone digging around in your head.”

“Maybe. But that’s NOT why I am telling him shit about you. I’m telling him because I’m worried about you. You want me to get help, right? Well I want you to get it too. Because you need it. I need you to be okay. Our kids need you to be okay.”

“I’m not crazy, Mark.”

It slips out so easily that he almost thinks he’d imagined it. Or at least heard her incorrectly. But he can tell by her immediate reaction that it did indeed happen; the wide eyed look of shock and horror and regret.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

Tears well in her eyes. “I didn’t mean it. Oh my god, I did NOT mean to say that. I didn’t mean to call you that.”

“Well you did. My name’s not Mark. It’s Tyler. Remember?”

“I didn’t mean it,” she repeats, and grips his one hand tightly in both of hers. “I don’t even know why I called you that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Tyler. I didn’t.”

“Do I remind you of him? Is that what you called me by his name?”

“No. You don’t remind me of him. You’re nothing like him. But when he used to pull all his gaslighting bullshit he’d call me crazy and then you brought up my issues and I felt like you were throwing me under the bus and using me as an excuse to not acknowledge your problems.”

“I would never...EVER...do that to you. I am NOT Mark. And I’ve spent the last seven years nearly trying to prove that to you. Trying to fix his goddamn mistakes.”

“Who is Mark?” the doctor inquires.

“Her ex husband. He tried to kill me. Twice. And the guy who tried to kill me almost a month ago, killed him nine months ago.”

The doctor’s eyes widen as he types the information into his computer. “What was this Mark like?”

“Didn’t you just hear me? I said he tried to kill me. Twice. I think it’s pretty safe to say he was a complete dick head.”

“Why did he try to kill you?”

“It’s a long story. Basically a guy hired me to help get his wife and kids back and it all turned out to be bullshit. He was actually hired by someone else to take ME out, when that didn’t work, he got Mark to try.”

“Tyler is nothing like Mark,” Esme says. “Not even in the slightest. And I didn’t mean to call you that. It was a total accident. I have never...ever...though you were like him. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’d never hurt you like that.”

“I know, baby,” he lays his free hand on the back of her head and presses his lips to her forehead. “It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not. It’s not okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean you to call you that. I’m sorry.”

The doctor sets the laptop on the coffee table and stands; disappearing into the office and returning a moment later with a box of tissues that he offers to Tyler. 

“I would never intentionally do that,” Esme attempts to explain. “It just came out. I didn’t mean it. Please tell me you know that. That you know I’d never hurt you like that.”

“I do know that,” Tyler assures her, and uses one of the tissues to wipe the tears from her cheeks and the side of her nose. “It’s okay, Me. I’m not mad at you. I get it. I know what went down between the two. I know what he was like.”

“Other than being homicidal,” Doctor Klein begins. “What was this Mark like? It’s safe to assume the marriage was troubled?”

“It started out great,” she says, as Tyler wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her rightly into his side. “He was wonderful. He was charming and romantic and sweet and treated me like a queen. It was...HE was...everything I had ever wanted. Everything I’d dreamed about. This handsome, older man sweeping me off my feet and loving me.” 

“And then things went bad? Is there something that triggered it?”

“Yeah, he was a psychotic fuck head,” Tyler responds. “That got off on beating and sexually assaulting his wife.”

“He had some issues that I didn’t know about. PTSD, borderline personality disorder, some kind of rage disorder.”

Tyler smirks at the doctor. “She knows how to pick ‘em, huh?”

“And he was abusive?” 

Esme nods. “He got that way. About a year in. He got home from six months in Afghanistan. It had been a long, hard tour and he’d lost quite a few men in brutal ways and saw some pretty awful things done to civilians. I’m actually pretty sure he took part in it, but I never had any proof. But knowing what I know now, it wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”

“And he became abusive?”

“It started with just words. Just horrible, degrading things. He’d fly into a rage over any dishes left in the sink or if he saw even the tiniest of crumbs on the kitchen counter or if his clothes weren’t folded a certain way or grouped in colour groups in the closet.”

Tyler gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. “Dick head, am I right?”

“I thought maybe it was just stress,” she continues. “From being gone for so long. But then it got worse. The rage. Words weren’t enough anymore. Things escalated; he started grabbing me, pulling my hair, forcing my face into a sink full of ice water as a form of punishment when he thought I ‘misbehaved’. He’d throw his dinner on the floor if he didn’t like it or felt it wasn’t done well enough for him. And then he’d…” her voice quakes with emotion, and Tyler tightens his hold on her; palm firmly and protectively rubbing up and down her arm. “...he’d make me eat it off the floor. And if I refused he’d push my face into it.”

“It’s okay, baby…” he presses a kiss to her temple and rests the tip of his nose against the side of her head. “...it’s alright now...he’s gone...long gone..”

“And I stayed,” she manages through the flood of tears. “I stayed because I thought I could fix him. That he’d wake up one day and be back to who he was when we first met. And it never happened. The worse it got, the harder I held on. He’d beat me and he’d force me to do things with him and TO him. And I still didn’t leave. I thought I loved him. And I thought he loved me. How stupid is that? That you could think someone who would do such horrible things to you could actually love you? I was so fucking stupid. And then I lost a baby and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He tried to kill me. With his bare hands. I don’t know who heard me or who came to my rescue, but I woke up in the hospital; broken jaw, broken nose, busted ribs, hair ripped out of my head, fractured larynx because he tried to choke me. I never went back to him. I got out of the hospital and I left everything I owned behind and I never looked back.”

“That takes a lot of strength,” the doctor says. “To get away.”

“He broke me. Mentally. I was never the same after that. And I got into the job. Not as a mercenary; I was the one who’d go in and get the information they needed about who they were after. That’s how Tyler and I met. Nik put us together. On a job. I was there to get what he needed to find who he was looking for. And things just happened between us. I never expected them too. I definitely didn’t go into it thinking this is how things would end up; married, five kids, one on the way.”

“Things happened very quickly? Between the two of you?”

“We were there for five days. We knew each other for three before. So yeah, they happened pretty quick. I didn’t think I’d ever trust someone again, let alone fall in love and make a life with them. And I don’t regret it . Not a single second. It started out a really strange way, but it was perfect all at the same time. We were just two broken and lost people that found each other and somehow made something together. Tyler had his issues, I had mine. And we didn’t judge each other for them. We just dealt with it. Let things take their own course, I guess.”

“And do you?” the doctor addresses Tyler. “Regret how things happened?”

“I never regretted it. The way things went down between us. How quick they happened. I’ve never regretted HER.”

“But…” Esme presses. “...I know there’s a ‘but’ coming. Don’t hold back. Just get it out. I already know what it is you’re going to say.”

“I don’t want this turning into a fight. I don’t want to fight with you. Isn’t this supposed to help? How is it helping if it’s just making things worse?”

“He regrets decisions and choices he made,” she says to the doctor. “Ones that kept me and someone else alive. It’s been seven years and he still second guesses himself. Everything he did, every decision he made, was to keep me safe and get me out of there alive. And that’s exactly what he did. I got out of there. Because of him! He saved me! Isn’t that enough? Isn’t it?” She addresses Tyler now. “Isn’t that enough for you? That I survived?”

“Of course it is. Why…?”

“Why is everything I say never enough? All the times I’ve told you that you did everything right. All the times I’ve thanked you for getting me out there.”

“I don’t want you thanking me. I don’t NEED you to thank me.”

“I survived because of you! That should be enough to get you to stop hating yourself! To stop you from looking at yourself like you’re some kind of monster! Why isn’t it enough? Tell me why.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

“It never matters what I say. Or how many times I say it. It is never enough for him. How do I stop him from being like this? How do I get it out of his head that he’s a horrible person? Because he’s not. He’s not who he thinks he is. He’s not what he sees himself as. And I don’t know how to get through to him.”

“I’m right here,” Tyler snarls. “Why are you talking like I’m not sitting right beside you?”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Doctor Klein asks. “”As a horrible person?”

“A lot of times, yeah.”

“Because of what you do for a living or…?”

“It’s not just that. It’s not just the job and things I’ve had to do. All the blood on my hands. It’s not just that.”

“Tell him,” Esme encourages. “Tell him or I will.”

“Don’t do this,” he pleads. “Don’t make me talk about this.”

“Tell him, Tyler. Tell him what you did. Tell him why you look at yourself the way you do. Tell him.”

“I don’t want to talk about this. This...Austin...has nothing to do with this.”

“It has everything to do with it. It’s how it all started. That and how your father treated you. His father was abusive. He was abusive and he was a drunk and he used to beat the shit out of him. And if he cried or showed any emotion or let on that it hurt, he’d beat him even harder and longer. He’d lock in him a closet with just a bucket to piss and shit in. For days. No food, no water, nothing.”

“This was your father?” Doctor Klein asks Tyler. 

“Yeah. It was.”

“When did this start? The abuse?”

“After my mum died. I was nine. She was killed by a drunk driver. While I was in school.”

“His dad was too drunk to even go and get him and tell him himself,” Esme seethes. “Made a police officer go to the school and do it for him. How pathetic is that. He couldn’t even be there for his own son. He’s a miserable piece of shit even now.”

“He never wanted a kid,” Tyler explains. “A kid took attention away from him. He wanted my mum all to himself.”

“And what was your relationship like with your mother?”

“I don’t want to talk about her. I’ll talk about him, but I won’t talk about her.”

“He used to beat the shit out of her too,” Esme says. “Every day. Whether he was drunk or not.”

“And you were there?” the doctor inquires. “When these beatings would take place?”

Tyler nods. “I used to hide in a closet. While he beat her. Sometimes he’d drag me out and make me watch. Said it was to show me how a ‘real man’ teaches his wife to respect him and behave properly.”

“Have you ever done anything like that? To your wife?”

“I’ve grabbed her,” he admits. “A few times. When we’ve been fighting. But I’ve never hit her. The thought has never even crossed my mind. I’d never do that to her. I love her too much to hurt her.”

“Are you afraid?” Doctor Klein turns his attention to Esme. “Of your husband?”

“No. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. He’s the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. I’ve never once been scared of him.”

“What about your children? Have you ever hit them?”

“I would never hit my kids.”

“Do you yell at them?”

“Sometimes.”

“And are they scared? When you yell at them?”

“Just admit it,” Esme says. “Just admit it no matter how much it hurts, Tyler. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It scares my one son. The youngest twin. He’s told me that before. That I sometimes scare him.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Like a huge piece of shit,” his voice cracks with emotion. “I hate myself for it. For scaring him. That’s the last thing I want. Him to be afraid of me. I ruined things. Between us. He hated me for a long time.”

“He’s never hated you,” Esme says. “Tanner could never hate you. You’re his father.”

“How old is Tanner?” the doctor inquires.

“He’s five,” Tyler replies. “He was really sick when he was born. We almost lost him a few times. Before he was born and after.”

“We think he’s on the Autism spectrum,” Esme says. “We’re not sure. We’re trying to figure out how to find that out.”

“What happened between you and your son? To impact the relationship?”

“My wife and I split up. For six months. I got back into drinking and taking pain meds and I turned into a complete asshole. We fought a lot; lots of arguing and yelling and slamming doors and throwing shit and putting my fists through doors and walls. I was a monster. A total fucking monster. I said some things to her...horrible things...my son heard them.”

“I kicked him out,” Esme adds. “I couldn’t take it anymore and I didn’t want my kids around that. So I told him to get out. I didn’t want to. But I had to. And it sucked. Huge. Having to do that.”

“My son never forgave me. For the things I did and the things I said to his mom. And I don’t blame him. I hated me, too.”

“And what’s your relationship like now? With your son?”

“Better. A lot better, actually. We’re pretty tight now. I sat back, let him trust me again and decide if he wanted any part of me. It killed me; knowing my kid didn’t like me. But I did the right thing. Letting him call the shots.”

“And you mentioned an Austin? Who is Austin?”

Tyler releases a long, shaky sigh. “My son. From my first marriage.”

“You were married before as well?”

He nods.

“And where is your son now? With his mother?”

“He died. A long time ago. He was six.”

“How did he die?”

“Lymphoma.”

“What was your relationship like with him?”

He swallows noisily. “Okay, I guess. I wasn’t around a lot. I was a lot younger then. I made the military my priority over my wife and my kid. I’m not proud of that.”

“Tell him,” Esme gently presses, and rubs his back comfortingly. “Tyler, tell him. Because you’re still holding onto it and it’s killing you inside and I hate what it’s doing to you. Tell him. Please.”

“I was overseas. When my son died. I couldn’t handle it. Seeing him suffer. So I left. I took off. I wasn’t there when he died. And I hate myself for it. I can’t get over it. I can’t forgive myself for it. I just can’t.”

“But you need to,” Esme says. “You need to forgive yourself. You made your amends. On that bridge. When you got me and Ovi out of there. It ended there. When you were willing to sacrifice yourself for us. That’s where it ended. You got your absolution. Why can’t you see that?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, and swipes at the tears that manage to escape. “I don’t know why I can’t.”

“He’s an amazing dad,” Esme tells the doctor. “Our kids are so blessed to have him. I’M blessed to have him. And I feel it’s not enough for him. Why isn’t loving him as much I do enough? What more do I need to do? Tell me, Tyler. Tell me what I need to do to help you forgive yourself. To make you see yourself the way I do. Tell me. Because I’ll do it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“It’s not you, It's me. Not you. It’s never been you. It’s me. It’s my fucking brain. I love you. You know I love you. This has never been about you.”

“Can you help us?” Esme asks Doctor Klein. “Can you? Both of us. Not just him. But can you help BOTH of us? Because we need it. We need your help.”

“I can,” he assures her. “And I will.”


	102. Chapter 102

Save for brief and emotionless commentary while mulling over lunch options, neither speak after leaving the appointment. The aftermath is immediate; hurt feelings, old wounds suddenly open and weeping, mild hostility towards one another for the things forced out into the open. He can’t remember the last thing they’d experienced; an uncomfortable and almost awkward silence hanging over them. Right from one day conversation had always flowed so smoothly and effortlessly despite their vast differences in character; Esme an outgoing, extremely social chatterbox opposed to his more sullen, introverted demeanour. Notoriously private and cautious, he always avoided forming even the smallest and simplest of bonds with others. Never allowing them to get too close; never offering more information than he felt they needed to know, and never giving the women he bedded the impression he was interested in anything more. 

Yet from the moment she’d stepped into that little shack of his, his instincts had told him that she was good people; she could be confided in and trusted. There’d been no judgement in her eyes when it came to the state of his living conditions and no disgust or disdain at the presence of all the liquor bottles and prescription meds; giving that bright, beautiful smile of hers and immediately introducing herself with so much surety and confidence. This tiny little thing with all her tattoos and her piercings; not put out in the least by his fairly intoxicated state nor batting an eyelash when he chased several Oxy with a glass of whisky and then offered her a drink before pouring another for himself. So small but so ballsy; totally unlike anything any woman he’d ever encountered before, on the job OR off. She was intriguing; seeming so out of place in their line of work yet managing to be in complete control of herself and the situation at hand. And when she left with Nik, he’d found himself looking forward to seeing her again; liking the sound of her voice and the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled and how soft her hand was when she shook his. It was the first time in years he’d felt anything towards another human being. That small, initial interaction between them leaving him wanting so much more. 

It’s unsettling; the silence that exists between them now, and it triggers both his annoyance and anxiety. It’s eerie and uncomfortable; reminiscent of those weeks immediately following their separation. When he’d go the house for visitation with the kids and they’d barely say two words to each other. Unusual for a couple that -even in the early days- had gotten used to long, deep conversations that occurred in the middle of the night and had never felt the need to fill any silences with needless chitchat; always at ease with each other and capable of just simply enjoying one another’s presence. It had been horrible; so much anger and hurt and that desperation of wanting to fix things but knowing how or even where to start. It’s the last thing he wants; winding up back in a situation like that. Separated from her and his kids; his entire existence hanging on by a thread. 

When they finally return to the room and he’s once more confined to that cramped hospital bed, he’s finally had enough; the last shred of patience finally dissolving. “Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, watching as she shoves things into the backpack she’d brought with her the night before; the pyjamas she’d worn, the dirty sweats she’ll take home and clean. 

“You don’t think enough has been said? You don’t think we’ve aired enough of our dirty laundry?”

“Let me get this straight. You’re mad because I actually talked to a therapist? Isn’t that what you wanted? Me to talk to someone? I did what you wanted me to do; I went way the fuck out of comfort zone and went to see this guy. I even agreed to keep seeing him AND letting him come to the house for appointment, That IS what you wanted, yeah? You wanted me to get help and that’s what I’m doing. Why are you suddenly pissed about that? What the fuck, Esme? What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing. This isn’t even about you. I’m not mad at you. Why would I be? You didn’t do anything wrong. Regardless of what you think, not everything is about you, Tyler.”

“Then what the hell is going on? What’s your goddamn problem? What are you so pissed about? Because you think I was throwing you under the bus to save myself? I’d never do that to you. I’d never hurt you like that. I’m not your fucking ex.”

“THAT’S what I’m mad about! Him! I’m pissed about him! That I even had to talk about that worthless steaming pile of shit!”

“You’re the one who brought him up, remember? You’re the one who called me by his name.”

“And that’s what I’m pissed about! That I even did that! What the hell is wrong with me? How fucked up am I that I’d do something like that?”

“It was an accident. You didn’t mean to do it.”

“It doesn’t matter if I meant it. I still did it. And the last thing you deserve is being called by that asshole’s name. You’re nothing like him. And I wasn’t comparing the two of you. That’s not why I did it. It just slipped out. I felt defensive when you brought up my shit. That’s what he used to do; when I’d call him out on his crap and stick up for myself and he’d start gaslighting me. He’d tell me I was imagining things and that I was crazy and that I needed ‘professional help’. It just hit too close to him; when you brought my stuff up. It felt like gaslighting. And that’s how I reacted.”

“I wasn’t gaslighting you. I brought it up because I’m worried about you.”

“I know that. Just like I know you’re NOT like him. But when my brain goes there...when it remembers him and all the shit he said and did...bad things happen. Very bad things. You know I don’t like talking about him. You know I’d rather avoid that. You know how hard it is.”

She’d told him five months into being married what had really happened between her and Mark. He’d known the basics; Mark was abusive in every way possible and she’d held onto the hope she could change him and felt foolish for ever sticking around and letting things get worse. But that night -overly emotional while pregnant with the twin and still living under her mother’s roof and dealing with stress and drama her family was notorious for - she’d gone into great detail; every horrid thing Mark had ever said to her, every vile act he’d committed against her. All he can remember aside from being nauseated is the immense rage that had filled him; the love of his life telling him about the things she’d been subjected to over the course of three years. It’s a hell of thing to hear; that woman sharing your bed and your life -and had so quickly trusted you just months before- had been beaten and raped. It was in that moment as she sobbed and begged him to not like less of HER, that he’d learned something very valuable; that his love for her was far greater than anger and the need for revenge. She needed him for comfort; not to defend her honour or seek vengeance. After that it became something he practiced regularly; shelving his feelings and emotions in favour of concentrating on hers. 

“I hate talking about it,” she says, and continues to shove items into the backpack. “Once was enough. Why did I have to go through that again?”

“Don’t you think it’s important to talk about? That maybe you’re still holding onto some shit and that’s why the way you are?”

“Is that a polite way of saying I’m fucked in the head?”

“I’m saying that you’ve got a lot of shit going on up there and maybe it’s starting to get to be too much. Maybe it always has been. It just took something really shitty to happen to bring it all out. And maybe it’s good you told the doctor about all of that. I can’t be the only one you tell things to.”

“You’re the only person I trust. You’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m nuts or like I’m a piece of shit.”

“I think you can trust this guy. I mean, it’s his job, right? To listen to people. I’m sure he’s heard worse.”

“I just don’t like talking about him. I don’t like the feelings it brings up. All the anger and the hate. Not just towards him, but towards myself, too.”

“Okay now you’ve totally lost me. Why do you hate yourself? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I stayed. With him. For three years! I put up with that bullshit! I let him do those things to me! I should have left.”

“You were scared. You didn’t know what to do.”

“I thought I could change him. That if I just loved him harder, maybe he’d see the error of his ways and fix things. The worse he got, the tighter I held on. How fucking pathetic is that? That I let him do those to me?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Do you want me to agree with you? You want me to say you somehow deserved all of that? Because there’s no fucking I’m ever going to say anything like that. He was a huge piece of shit that got what he deserved in the end. I only wish I could have been the one to give it to him.”

“I didn’t want you to be the one to do it. I didn’t want that on your conscience knowing you killed someone for me.”

“I’ve killed people for a lot less.”

She nods slowly, considering his words. “I just didn’t want that on your shoulders. Doing it for the job is one thing, doing it out of spite is another. And you’re not that person; you’re not someone that does things out of spite or revenge. Believe me, I understand why you wanted to be the one to do. And I love you for wanting to defend me and avenge me and all of that. I do. But I didn’t want that for you.”

“What DO you want?”

“I want you. I want US. I want us to go back to the way things were. I want us to turn the block back nine months; to when we first moved here. I want us to do things differently. I want us to make different choices. I want us to let other people handle things and just concentrate on us and the kids. I want you to stay home and be a husband and a father and forget about this other bullshit! That’s what I want. And I know it’s never going to happen. I know you’re never going to be happy; running things behind the scenes. I know once you get back on your feet, you’re going to go right back out there. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

“Do you need one? Is that what it’s going to take, Tyler? Me saying it’s us or the job? It’s that what you need to make your decision? Because if it is, obviously the kids and I aren’t first on your list.”

“All I care about is you and the kids. You KNOW that.”

“No. I don’t. Or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I don’t want to give you an ultimatum. I’ve already lost if I need to.”

“If you want me to stop…”

“No! You have to want to stop! YOU have to want it! You wanted a family. When we found out about Millie, you wanted to get married. You wanted a normal life. And I was more than willing to give you that. To share a life with you. To have a big family because it’s something you missed out on and you wanted nothing more than to be a dad again. But I’m doing this all by myself! We’re not doing this together. Not the way we should be. We should be parents together; not you thousands of miles away agreeing to things over the phone or a video chat. We’re supposed to be a team in this, but I’m the one holding up my end and you’re nowhere to be found. You’re in South America or in the Philippines or some god forsaken shit hole where I can’t even get a hold of you from one day to the next and I just have to hope and pray you’re not dead somewhere!”

“I’m not gone that much.” It sounds pathetic, even to his own ears. 

“Like fucking hell you’re not! You were gone constantly when we were in Colorado. When I was pregnant with the boys, you were gone more than you were home. I was going through hell trying to keep your children...your sons...alive inside of me and you were gone! I needed you and you ran off to help Nik. Time and time again. She’d call and you'd go. I fucking needed you, Tyler. Tanner could have died before I even managed to have him. And you knew it and you still went out there. You chose the job over me and your unborn children and Millie!”

“I did what I had to do for you. For Millie. For the boys. So I could put a roof over your head and keep the bills paid and food on the table. I don’t know how to do anything else. This is all I know! The job. It’s all I have.”

“No. You have us. Which is a hell of a lot more than what you had before I came along. You’re alive because of sheer fucking luck. Because Nik needed two people to get shit done in Dhaka and I was the only one who had the balls to stay behind and try and save your ass! Because at that point, I didn’t give a shit if I lived or died, either. But at least if I went, it was trying to help someone else.”

“What? You want me to thank you? Like I don’t already worship the ground you walk on? Like I haven’t been worshiping it for seven goddamn years?!”

“I want you home!” She angrily tosses the bag onto the pull out. “I don’t want your thanks, I don’t want you kissing my ass, or grovelling at my feet! I want my husband home! I want you under the same roof. I want you there with me and your children. I want us to be enough for you! Why aren’t we enough, Tyler?!”

“You are. You all are. You’re more than enough.”

“How can you say that? How can you look at me and say that when it’s such a hard decision to make? Is it really that difficult? To choose? Because if it’s hard for you, tell me right now and I’ll take the kids and I’ll go. Because if you can’t quickly pick, I’d rather you choose the job than me spend years being relegated to second best.”

Silence descends on the room; the ticking of the clock and the chatter of nurses and patients out in the hallway both seeming impossibly loud. As she leans back against the wall with her arms tightly crossed over her heaving chest and her tear filled eyes riveted on the beach outside, he lays back with his hands clasped at the back of his neck. Eyes on the ceiling as he allows her words to sink in deep; harsh and painful but every single one of them true. He hasn’t been the best father or husband; not even close. And while he’s tried his hardest to make up for his absences by devoting himself to her and his kids completely when he is home, the damage has already been done; he can’t turn around and get that lost time back, he can’t suddenly be there for all the ‘firsts’ that he missed with his children, he can’t remember those birthdays and anniversaries that he forget or he couldn’t contact her on because there was no way he could get ahold of her where was. 

And he wasn’t there when she needed him the most. When she was struggling to keep one twin alive. And herself.

*****

“I don’t want to tell you to choose,” she says. “You have to want to do that on your own.”

“I do need to choose anything. If you want me to…”

“You’re not getting it, Tyler. It has to be what YOU want. I don’t want you doing something solely for me and then hating me years down the road because of it.”

“I could never hate you. I love you. You have no idea how MUCH I love you.”

“What do you want? You need to make a decision. But it has to be what you TRULY want. Because I still want you to be happy. And if it’s the job that makes you the happiest, then just say it. It’ll hurt like hell, but at least I’ll know where I stand. I won’t leave Australia. I would never do that to you. I would never take your kids from you. You’re an amazing father. WHEN you’re around. And they love you and I can’t hurt them or you.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere. I want you. I want US. I want our family.”

“You can’t have both. You just can’t. I can’t do this anymore, Tyler. No matter how much I love you. And I do. Love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. But it’s time that I love myself. It’s time I put myself and my kids first. And I know you can understand that. Why I need to do that.”

“I do. I do understand that.”

“I can’t live this life anymore. I can’t keep watching you walk out the door and then spend days or weeks wondering if I’m ever going to see you again. I can’t do it. I’ve given you everything I have. And now there’s nothing left.”

Sighing heavily, he runs his palms over his weary face; the absence of hair seeming foreign and strange after so many years of just trimming the beard and never getting rid of it entirely.

“If you need that much time to think, I’ve totally overestimated my role in your life,” her voice quakes with emotion. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed to make you happy. I am. That I wasn’t enough. That your kids weren’t enough.”

“Don’t do that,” he begs. “Please don’t. Don’t talk like that.”

“It should be a lot easier than that when you love someone. Especially when you love someone like you claim to.”

“Can you please just give me a couple minutes? Please? You know what my brain is like right now. You know what it’s been like for the last seven years. This isn’t about making a choice. This is about trying to get my shit together. So can you please do that? Can you just give me some time to breathe and get my brian in order?”

“You’re right. I do know what your brain has been like. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to jump on you like that. But this isn’t easy for me either. To love someone this much and have to walk away.”

“I don’t want you walking away. I don’t ever want that. Why do you think I want that?”

“Why can’t you make a decision? Why are you…?”

“Did you really doubt that I’d pick you? Did you really doubt that? Did you really think I’d pick the job over you?” 

“Yeah.” she admits. “I did. Because I’ve always felt second to it. And I tried telling myself that I was okay with that. That I could cope with it. That I could handle you being gone on all the time. And you know what? At first I WAS fine with it. When it was just Millie and the boys. But then we had Declan and then Addie and now a new baby. I can’t do it all by myself. Especially if Tanner IS on the spectrum. I can’t handle all that by myself. I just can’t.”

“I choose you. Every day. I’ll give it up. I’ll run things behind the scenes. I’ll concentrate on that.”

“I want you to be happy, Tyler.”

“I’m happy with you. And my kids. This is it. I’m done. I won’t go out there ever again. Once this is behind us and I get on my feet, I just run the business. That’s it. Because I am NOT losing you or my kids. I don’t have anything without you or them. But I need you to listen to me now. I listened to you and I heard you. Every word. Now I need you to do the same for me.”

“Okay,” she agrees. “I’m listening.”

“Can you at least come and sit here? Or stand closer at least? You’re making me really fucking anxious right now.”

Sighing, she rubs her palms vigorously against her biceps and then crosses the room; putting down the side railing to sit next to him on the bed, a hand resting on his left calf.

“I love you,” he begins. “I never thought I was capable of loving anyone. Not after Austin. I thought that was it for me; I’d fucked up huge and I deserved to be punished and I was willing to take that punishment any way it came. If that meant I spent the rest of my life miserable, so be it. And then I met you, Maybe I didn’t love you right away, but I knew it was going to happen. Five days in, I knew. I knew you were it for me. And that’s why I fought back on the bridge. After the sniper. Because I knew you were still alive and I wanted to be with you.”

She gives a small, tearful smile and runs her hand up and down his leg. He appreciates the gesture; it’s loving and comforting and fills him with a sense of hope and optimism. That she isn’t going to walk out and leave their marriage behind; that he won’t return to an empty house in a week’s time and have to adjust to life without her and the kids.

“I love you in a way you could never possibly understand. Because I don’t even understand it myself half the time. I just know what I feel; I know how strong it is and how deep it is. And you are enough. You’ve always been enough.”

“But…”

“I’m scared. Being a soldier is all I know. Whether in the military or the job. It’s who I am. It’s what I know. And I know I’m good at it. Damn good. It’s been the one thing I could rely on being good at it. And I’m scared to give that up. Because what if I do and I find you...YOU find out...that I'm not good enough for you. Or our kids.”

“But you’ve ALWAYS been enough. Always. Since day one you were enough for me. Or I would have never stayed here. I never would have started a life with you if you weren’t enough. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see yourself the way I see you?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I wish I did. I wish I DID see myself like that. But I don’t. I’m terrified. That I’m going to fuck this all up; being a husband and a father. And when I got scared of screwing up, I’d take jobs. I’d run away. That’s why I would leave. And why I’d stay gone as long as I would. Because I knew it couldn’t fuck that up. I knew I was good at it. When I was out there, I wasn’t worried about being a total fucking failure. At home, I was worried. All the time. That I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“But you were. You ARE. And I wish there was a way to get that through to you. For you to realize that you’re perfect the way you are. Isn’t loving you the way I do enough? Isn’t your kids loving you enough?”

“This isn’t about you or the kids. You’ve done everything right. This is me. This is how I am. I don’t want to fuck it up. Us. I don’t want to fuck us about. And I don’t want to fuck up our kids. I made that mistake once. With Austin. I can’t screw up with these kids too.”

“You won’t. You’re not the same person you were back then. You were younger and you were scared and…”

“I’m scared now. I’m forty one fucking years old and I’m terrified. Of not being enough for them. For you. And I wish I wasn’t like this. That my brain didn’t tell me this shit. But I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

“No, Tyler. It’s NOT who you are. It’s who you were told you were. By your father. You lived years being told you weren’t good enough. That you were garbage. That you had no worth. And I’m telling you right now that he’s wrong. He’s always been wrong. You are more of a man than he could ever hope, And your life means everything to me and to your kids. We love you. You have no idea how much we love you. How important you are to us. And I’m sorry that your brain won’t let you believe me. But your life has worth. It always has. “

“And I want to see it that way. I do. I just don’t know how.”

“I can help you. I can get you through this. We can get past all of that together. But I need you to commit. To us, To helping me raise these kids. I didn’t go into this by myself. We both took vows and we both made these kids. And I shouldn’t have to do it all by myself.”

“No. You shouldn’t. And I’m sorry. That you’ve felt that way. That I made you feel that way. I never meant to. I was scared. I was scared of fucking up and hurting you and hurting those kids and ruining everything. And that’s why I went back to the job and why I threw myself in so deep. That’s the only reason. And I’m sorry,” he reaches out and lays a hand on the side of her face, the pad of his thumb travelling the line of her upper lip. “I never meant to make you feel second.”

“I know you didn’t mean it. But it hurt. It hurt a hell of a lot. And it still does. All the missed birthdays and the missed anniversaries and all the things you missed the kids doing for the first time. I always thought it was because you’d rather be out there...on a job...than with us.”

“That wasn’t it, baby. I just didn’t know how to be with you. I didn’t know how to get over being scared of fucking up. I didn’t want to screw things up and have you looking at me like I’m a failure. I couldn’t handle that. So I chose to be out there. And I am sorry. That I didn’t have the balls to tell you all of this then. And I’m sorry for how bad things got. That I didn’t give you any other choice but to throw me out. And that I didn’t fight for you.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to. I thought you’d given up on us. On me.”

‘That will never….ever...happen. I was fucked up. I got in too deep with the drinking and the meds and I couldn’t get myself back and I didn’t want to put that on you. I was weak. I didn’t think I had any fight left in me and I didn’t think you wanted to fix things. You thought I’d given up? I thought the same thing about you. I was pretty sure that was it. That you were done with me. And I would have deserved it.”

“I wanted you home. Just not the way you were. I couldn’t have that around the kids. I just couldn’t. But it’s not that I didn't want you, Tyler. Or that I didn’t love you. Because even though...when things were so bad between us...I still adored you. And when you didn’t fight for us…”

“I didn’t know how. Or if you even wanted me to. I fucked up and I’m sorry. I’ve fucked up a lot. And I don’t know why you stay. But I know that I’m glad you do.”

“I stay because I love you. Because you’re my best friend. Because you’re the only person that I truly trust and I feel safe with. And I need that. I need to feel safe. And you’re the only one that’s ever given me that. But it fucking hurts when you put the job first. When I don’t feel like I’m good enough for you. That I can't be the wife you want or the wife you need.”

“You are more than enough. You always have been. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way.”

“We need to make this work. Us. I need this to work.”

“So do I.”

“And now we’re both stressed and this has been a fucking nightmare and I want to blame it all on what happened. But I know it’s not just that. We’ve both been holding onto a lot of things and they’ve been eating away at us and pushing us apart and then pulling us back together. Over and over again. And it’s tiring. To go through all that time.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It is.”

“I want us to be okay, Tell me we’re going to be okay.”

“We will be. It’s going to take some work, but we will be. I mean we love each other, right? We’ve got that going for us at least. It’s not like we’ve ever hated one another. Maybe love each other TOO much. If that’s possible.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it really IS a blessing and a curse. To love someone THAT much.”

“Maybe. But there’s been more good than bad.”

“There has been,” she smiles. “But when it’s bad…”

“It’s really fucking bad.”

Esme nods.

Sliding his hand to the back of her head, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into him; pressing a kiss to her forehead before drawing her body tight against his. There’s no hesitation; she slides further up the bed and snuggles into him, both arms wrapping around his waist, head resting on his chest. Eyes fluttered closed as the fingers buried in her hair lightly massage her scalp. Neither speak for several minutes; bodies and brains finally calming down from the fight and the thinly veiled threats and the hurtful -yet truthful- words that had been spoken. It’s nice to have this moment; the quietness and then stillness after grievances have been aired.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. 

He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “For what?”

“That I called you Mark. I never meant it. You DON’T remind me of him. At all. And I’m sorry I hurt you like that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t. And I get it; why you said it.”

“And I’m sorry that you had to be the guy that came after him.”

“It’s been kind of fun, actually. Being the guy that could make you forget about all the other guys that came before me. I haven’t even had to work that hard at that.”

She gives a small laugh. “You’ve put them all to shame, that’s for sure. No one can ever deny your sexual prowess, that’s for sure.”

“We don’t have all those kids for nothing.”

“You just have very determined swimmers, I guess. But I am sorry. That you had to be the one to pick up all the pieces and put me back together. I know it hasn’t been easy. That I haven’t been easy. But you did. In your own quiet, strong way. You never made me feel bad for it or made me feel like I was too much work and not worth the effort.”

“You are worth every ounce of effort I have ever put into you. Into US. And then some.”

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that I was punishing you for his mistakes. I never meant to do that. And you deserved better than that.”

“I never felt that way, baby. Ever. And yeah, you were a lot of work and I wanted to strangle you sometimes, but I love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

She raises her head from his chest, a smile on curving her lips as she presses her mouth to his. “I love you. And I want this to work. I’ll do whatever I have to to make this work. For US to work.”

“So will I,” he says, and places a kiss on her forehead “Whatever it takes.”


	103. Chapter 103

The day goes from bad to worse. Doctor Klein catching up to her as she leaves the hospital; pulling her aside to discuss his ‘working diagnosis’. Bipolar II AND C-PTSD. Both an ‘upgrade’ from the previous decisions handed down by other psychiatrists years before. Both will need to be carefully and expertly monitored for the rest of his life; regular therapy, a healthy and clean lifestyle, a strict medication schedule. And while she’d expected to hear difficult news, it had still hit exceptionally hard; her head spinning and both brain and ears incapable of taking in any more information as the ground threatened to open up and swallow her whole. A lifetime of trauma, hard living, and personal choices have led to this point; witnessing his mother’s mistreatment and abuse and then being subjected to his own starting it all off. She’d always suspected it was the cause of everything; a child can only handle seeing and hearing so much before it begins to affect them. It makes sense that a terrified and deeply wounded -both physically and mentally- little boy would turn into a troubled and tormented man. One who doesn’t know how to handle commitment and all of the intricacies and hard work that comes with it. Who sees himself as unworthy of love and acceptance and who routinely makes horrible decisions and seeks solace in booze and drugs. A brain can only take so much, and his stopped being able to cope with the real world around him -outside of the military and the job- a long time ago. 

“You can’t fix him,” Doctor Klein had said, a sad yet understanding smile on his face and a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “No matter how hard you try or how badly you want to. There’s no fixing this. There’s just accepting it and learning to live with it. It’s about coping. Not about repairing.”

It’s a bitter, painful pill to swallow; knowing the person you love -more than life itself- IS broken and that there’s nothing you can do to patch them back together While less intense than classic bipolar, it will still be difficult; learning how to be more patient and understanding, not engaging during volatile behaviour and choosing de-escalation as opposed to confrontation and arguing. There’s the possibility of suicidal thoughts and attempts. Aggressive and even violent behaviour. Things that can be managed through medication, but can’t be avoided entirely. And while she knows she can handle it, her fears and her worries are centered around him; how he’ll handle the news. It will be a heavy load placed upon already weary shoulders, and for a man that already sees himself as broken and unworthy of love and affection, it could be what completely breaks his spirit. She knows how he’ll react; seeing himself as a burden and worthless. He ALREADY feels that way; regarding himself as undeserving of her and the kids and the life that he’s been blessed with. Hearing this new diagnosis could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back; sending him into an even deeper and unmanageable depression and pulling him into the deepest and darkest recesses of hell with no chance of getting him out.

She’s not even sure how she’s managed to make it home. The hour drive a complete and utter blur; unable to focus on anything other than the doctor’s findings and the long term consequences that accompany them. The second of half of his life will be spent struggling with his own mind; continuous counselling sessions and cognitive therapy appointments and relying on a cocktail of mood stabilizers, antipsychotics, and antidepressants. She knows he won’t want to live like that; relying on meds and talking to strangers in hopes of just keeping his head above water. And he sure as hell won’t want her and the kids dealing with that; living under the same roof as someone constantly on edge and a possible threat. That’s what he’ll fixate on; the chance that he could snap and go into a psychotic rage and hurt them. And it will be a chance he won’t be willing to take. 

And THAT’S what frightens her. Not the diagnosis or living with someone with those kinds of issues. But the fact he’ll do everything in his power to try and push her away. He’ll fight tooth and nail to try and convince her that she and the kids are better off without him; that their lives would be so much simpler away from someone that could be a threat and a danger to them. And she’s seen THAT Tyler before; she'd stared him in the eye when he’d had her pinned her against a wall in a dirty hotel room in Dhaka, his hand wrapped firmly around her throat. It didn’t work then; she’d refused to be intimidated and she sure as hell hadn’t been scared of him. It had been so obvious; a man viewing himself as a threat and struggling with his own feelings and resorting to scare tactics to save both himself and her. It won’t work now either. She refuses to break and there’s no way she’ll bend. Not after seven years. Not after five children and one...or two...in her belly. Walking away isn’t an option, and he sure as hell won’t succeed in scaring her off.

She sits in the driveway; engine off and rhythmically ticking as it cools down. Hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to turn her knuckles white and pins and needles to form in the tips of her fingers. She can’t bring herself to go inside; not yet. Not with her tattered nerves and the unbearable heaviness that sits on her chest; it hurts to breathe, it’s uncomfortable to even move. She can’t go into the house like that; she’d already missed the bus drop off and their usual after school routine and she’s certain there’s hurt feelings and a little animosity on the kids’ parts. She’s been gone a lot. First leaving Mumbai for Dhaka and then not returning to Australia when they did; relying on Ovi and Nik and Anil to keep them safe and happy while she stayed by her husband’s side. Their little lives have been turned upside down; a parent stuck in the hospital, the other nearly non-existent and their mind and their heart in another place even when they are home. It’s not fair to them; the upset to routine, the lack of proper quality time, all the missed hugs and kisses and cuddles and bedtime stories. They deserve more than that. So much more.

“I hate this,” she whispers, and her entire body begins to tremble. It finally releases; fear, worry, sadness, rage. “I fucking hate this!” she yells into the confines of the SUV, and tears stream down her face as she repeatedly stomps her feet against the floorboard and pounds her hands against the steering wheel. Screaming until her voice is hoarse and her throat is dry; continuing the assault until her wrists ache and her thighs burn. Then she slumps back into her seat and cries; hands pressed to her face as the sobs wrack her body and the tears stream down her face.

It takes several minutes for the moment to subside; until her body stops shaking and there’s no more tears left to cry. And she’s scouring the middle counsel for tissues to clean up her face when she hears it; the repetitive tapping of knuckles against her window.

“Mommy!” TJ stands in the driveway; already tall enough to see into the SUV without standing on his tiptoes. He’s long and lanky; all torso and limbs and beautifully tanned skinned. He’s only visible from the bottom of the nose up; the freckles across the bridge, those enormous blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes. “Mom!” He slams his palms against the glass. “Are you okay?!”

She nods, then places her palm against the window, covering his.

“Open the door!” TJ demands, and he’s suddenly so much his father. The concern that darkens his eyes, the furrows in brow, that assertive and demanding tone. 

“I’m fine!” Esme assures him. 

“Open...the...door!” He repeats, slowly and clearly pronouncing each word. “This isn’t funny! I know you’re upset! Open the door!” His eyes soften and he gives that charming, almost cheeky smile. “Please?”

He’s learned well. A true product of his environment.

“Go around,” she instructs, and watches as he hurries around the front of the SUV; sandy blond hair damp, the longer top strands sticking to his forehead and pushed in several different directions. He’s in his normal after school ‘attire’; shirtless and board shorts. 

“What are you doing?” There’s a mixture of both concern and annoyance in his voice when she pops open the passenger side door, and she notices how impossible large his hands seem for only five; long fingers curling around the handle at the top of the door as he hauls himself inside. “Why are you sitting out there?”

“Why are YOU out here?”

“I asked you first. What’s wrong? How come you’re not coming inside?”

“I just needed a few minutes. It’s been a long day.”

“I was taking the recycling out,” he jerks his head over his shoulder; indicating the blue boxes that sit at the curb. “That’s my job, remember. That’s the job daddy gave me when we moved here. You didn’t see me?”

“You must have snuck by me. Like a ninja.”

“I don’t know how you didn’t see me. I’m hard to miss. Uncle Koen says I’m tall and skinny and awkward. Like daddy.”

“Your father is far from being skinny and awkward. You on the other hand…”

“That’s not nice, mom. When I’m big enough, I’m going to work out in the gym too. With daddy. He can show me how to get big muscles. I want to be big too. And strong. Do you think he’ll let me? Work out? When I’m old enough?”

“I know he will. He’ll like having a gym buddy.”

“Do you think I’ll be as tall as him? I hope I grow that big. I WANT to be that tall. I want to be a giant, too.”

“I think you’re well on your way to being just as tall as your dad if not taller.”

“Imagine?” His eyes widen in excitement. “If I grew taller and bigger than daddy? Daddy’s big. Like REALLY big. Sometimes he has to duck to get through doors in some places. Not to mention his hand is bigger than my whole face and his arms are massive! Imagine if I got bigger than him? That would be fucking awesome.”

Esme frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he gives a sheepish smile. “I don’t mean to swear. It just comes out!”.”

“You really do learn by example.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means your dad has to watch his mouth around you guys.” She reaches out to comb her fingers through his hair; moving his bangs off his forehead. “How was school?”

“Alright, I guess. I only got in trouble once.”

“For what?”

“For being mouthy. Someone made fun of one of the kids with special needs and I told them to shut the fuck up or I’d shut them up.”

“You can’t do that, baby man. Threaten people. I know you’re doing it for a good cause and I’m so proud of you for standing up for people and not letting bad people get away with bad things, but you can’t threaten to ‘shut them up’.”

“I can’t throw the first punch, but I can throw the last punch.”

“What?”

“Daddy said to never start the fight, but always finish. So if someone gets in my face because I told them off and they get mad enough to hit me, I can hit them back. Because I’m defending myself. Daddy said that’s okay. And he always said to make sure I get extra punches to the head in so they can’t get back up.”

“He told you that?”

“He’s not wrong. Bad people need to be punished. They need to be punched in the face a few times. They shouldn't be allowed to be bad. Why should they get away with it? Why should they be allowed to hurt and scare other people? Especially people like Zeke. Zeke can’t defend himself. That’s why people pick on kids like him; because they’re weak and they’re cowards and can’t pick on kids that stick up for themselves. So they go after the kids that can’t.”

“You know, you’re very wise for five.”

“I won’t let them get away with, mom. I’m sorry. I can’t let bad people get away with things. I just can’t. I’m a lover AND a fighter. And I’ll fight for other people. I’m not scared to. What’s the worst that could happen? I get punched in the face?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. You’ve got a very nice face.”

“Bloody noses and black eyes heal, mom. So do broken bones. I’m going to stick up for other kids. It’s only right. And when I’m older, I’m going to stick up for people then, too. I’m going to do what daddy does; beat the shit out of bad people.”

“Okay, as much as I admire your tenacity and your willingness to help others, that is not all your daddy does. And that’s not something we’re going to talk about when you’re this young. But I am proud of you; for being so brave and always wanting to do the right thing. You’ve got a big heart, baby man.”

“Ovi says I’m all daddy. Head to toe. Inside and out.”

Esme smiles. “You definitely are. And that makes my heart very warm and very happy. That you ARE like him.”

“Are you okay? I saw you crying. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just been a hard day. Nothing serious.”

“Is daddy okay? Did something happen to him? Is that why you’re crying?”

“No. Nothing happened, He’s fine. I just miss him”

“You just saw him.”

“I miss having him here. With us. It’s not the same; him not being here.”

“No. It’s not. It sucks. I thought when we moved here that daddy wasn’t going back to his old job? That’s what he said. When we were still in Colorado and he got back from New Zealand, he said he wasn’t going back to work. That he didn’t need the money and he was going to stay home. With us.”

“Things happened. He had to go back. He didn’t have a choice this time.”

“Is he going to go back again? When he gets out of the hospital and he’s all better? Is he going to go back then?”

“No. He’s not. He’s decided not to. He’s going to let other people do that kind of thing. He’s done. He just wants to spend time with you guys. That’s all that matters to him now.”

“Good. Because I was starting to wonder if maybe he hated spending time with us and that’s why he left so much.”

Her heart breaks at the honesty...and the pain...behind her son’s words. She’d never taken it into consideration how the kids felt; how their father’s frequent and prolonged absences were directly affecting them. Tanner and Millie will talk about their feelings; TJ keeps things inside until they reach their boiling point and eventually explodes. 

“Daddy loves you,” she can’t hold back the emotion that creeps into her voice, or the fresh round of tears that trickle down her face. “He loves you so much. That’s NOT why he went away so much. It had nothing to do with you. Or your brothers and sisters. You could never know how much he loves you.”

“Is it ‘cause of his brain? ‘Cause it’s sick? Is that why he went away so much?”

“There were reasons. Very good, and very sad reasons. But that’s been taken care of and daddy is going to stay home now. So he can spend all the time he can with you guys. But it was never...EVER...about any of you. You know that right?”

TJ nods.

“Daddy has some issues that he needs to work on. And he is; working on them. We just have to be patient, okay? We just have to give him lots of love and support and help any way we can. Make sense?”

“Total sense. Don’t cry, mommy…” TJ kneels on his seat and reaches out to clear the droplets from her cheeks and from the sides of her nose; dirty fingers soft and gentle against her skin. “...I don’t like when you cry. It hurts my heart.”

“I’m sorry, baby man. I’m just tired. And overwhelmed. Do you know what that means?”

“It means you got lots going on and it’s too much to take sometimes.”

“Exactly. But I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Do you wanna snuggle? Snuggles are always good.”

She smiles. “You’d do that for me?”

“Mommy, I’d do ANYTHING for you.”

She leans across the centre console and presses a kiss to his forehead; arms wrapping around his slender frame as he climbs across the void between them and settles himself on her lap; stomach and chest flush against her, hands reaching up to push their way through her hair. 

“You’re such a good boy,” she says, a hand coming to rest on the top of his head as he rests her chin on her shoulder. “You’re so much like your daddy and I love you so much. I love BOTH of you so much.”

For several minutes they sit together. Her eyes are closed and her hand on the back of his head, arm wrapped around his waist; those little fingers repeatedly combing through her hair. He smells like a mixture of coconut and sunshine; a scent that is unmistakably TJ and brings a smile to her face.

“I love you, mommy,” he says, and kisses her cheek. “If we got to pick mommies, I’d pick you.”

“I’m glad you would. I really like being your mommy.”

“Are you having a baby?”

She pulls back to look at him. “What?”

“Your tummy feels like it did when you were having Addie. Are you? Having a baby?”

“Yes,” she admits. “I am.”

“Another one? How many do you need? Isn’t five enough?”

“These things happen sometimes. They catch you by surprise.”

“You and daddy need to sleep in a different room, I think.”

“What do you know about how babies are made?”

“I know that mommies and daddies sleep together in the same bed and that’s how it happens. You guys need different rooms. Because if you ask me, six will be more than enough.”

She laughs and ruffles his hair. “This is it, baby man. This is the last one. No more after this.”

“You said that after Declan and Addie still came along. AND you said it after Addie too!”

“Well this time, it’s true. No more after this. I’m going to make sure of it.”

TJ laughs. “Daddy’s never getting any again.”

“Excuse me? What?”

“I know things, mom. I know that mommies and daddies have ‘adult time’.”

“Who told you that?”

“I’m no snitch. Do you want a snack? Snack’s always make me feel better. I’ll make you a snack if you want.”

“You know what, a snack sounds really good. I’ll let you spoil me.”

“Good. Because daddy would want me to. He’d want me to take care of you because he’s not here to do it himself. And I AM the oldest boy. That makes me the man of the house.”

“Actually, Ovi is the oldest and technically the man of the house.”

“I mean the oldest of the boys you and daddy MADE. That’s me. So I’m in charge. I get to take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And just so you know…” he holds her face in his hands. “...Millie’s being a total bitch.”

Esme gives a derisive snort. “What else is new?”

TJ sighs heavily, his brow furrowing as he stares at her pointedly. “Please don’t give me another sister.”

*****

She waves to Riley through the kitchen window; the red head standing at the side of the pool in a simple black one piece and a mesh back trucker cap. Rocking back and forth with Addie in her arms as she talks to Ovi as he plays in the water with Declan, Millie, and Tanner. Her sister seems right at home in Australia; adapting extremely well to the sun and surf culture, not batting an eye at removing spiders and snakes from the house and adopting the lingo and various sayings. While it’s a stretch to expect her to stay forever, it’s something Esme’s heart desperately wants; a friend and ally OUTSIDE of her husband. Having someone to trust and confide in, and ultimately taking the stress and the pressure off him; the only one who has been able to provide her with an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Riley has her own life; the last year of nursing school and placement, a potentially serious love interest, her own friends and social circle. 

She’d never expect her sister to give all of that up; it’s unfair to even want it, let alone expect it. It isn’t the same as seven years ago when she’d done just that; given up her old life in favour of a newer, much better one. There hadn’t been anything to leave behind; no friends -if they could even be called that- outside of her work circle, a family ripe with drama and discourse, a past that was too painful to even acknowledge. Her old life had died on the Sultana Kamal Bridge; the moment she decided to put her own safety and well being on the line to save a man she barely knew. The old Esme never made it out of Dhaka. And maybe in a lot of ways she is still there; standing on that bridge waiting for someone to rescue HER.

“You sit,” TJ orders, and pulls out one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“You’re a very bossy little baby man,” Esme grins, and she drops her purse on the counter -filled with pamphlets on C-PTSD and Bipolar II and prescriptions she’ll need to fill before he comes home- and does as she’s told.

“I’m not bossy. I’m assertive. I get that from you. That’s what daddy says. He says it’s one of your best traits.”

“Daddy said that?”

TJ nods. “It’s one of the reasons he fell in love with you, you know. You’re not a pushover. He said he likes strong women. And you’re the strongest he’s ever met.”

“He told you that?”

“Daddy tells me a lot of things. He also said you had a really nice smile. That was the second thing he fell in love with.”

“What was the third?”

“Do you really want to know that one?”

Esme nods.

“Your cute bum.”

She laughs. “He said I have a cute bum?”

“Yeah. He said it’s the cutest bum ever.”

“Your daddy has exceptional taste.”

“He so does,” TJ agrees, and then scurries across the kitchen to begin his food preparation. 

She watches him as he works. The way he effortlessly scales the front of the fridge using nothing more than his bare feet and hands; climbing all the way to the top in order to tear a banana from the bunch that sits on top of the appliance. He seems so much older than five all of a sudden; that wild and fearless personality placed on hold and replaced with someone much more mature and thoughtful and selfless. Sometimes it seems like just yesterday when he couldn’t reach the top of the kitchen counter in Telluride; now he doesn’t even need to stand on his tip toes and to reach the bread bin and the jar of peanut butter that sits on top of it. 

“Mommy!” Tanner excitedly greets her as he races into the kitchen, throwing his arms around her and squeezing her as tight as he can. “I missed you! You weren’t there to get us off the bus!”

“I’m sorry, I got held up at the hospital.” She holds his face in her hands and presses a kiss to his lips, then vigorously scrubs his hair and body with the towel wrapped around him. “Auntie Riley got you off the bus okay, though?”

“Yup. She’s the best aunt ever, you know. I missed her. I wish she could live with us. That would be a lot of fun. A lot of more fun than Uncle Kyle, that’s for sure.”

“He’s a drongo,” TJ chimes in.

“Tyler…”

“Well he is, mom. I know he’s your brother, but he’s not a nice person. He says mean things about daddy. Things that aren’t true. He thinks daddy’s a bad person and he isn’t. Why does he want to hurt our feelings saying bad things about our dad?”

“I don’t know, baby man. But I’m sorry you had to hear those things.”

“Maybe he’s jealous. ‘Cause daddy has big muscles and is better looking and doesn’t let a woman carry his balls in her purse.”

“Tyler James…”

“I’m glad my brother’s not a douche. I mean Declan is a bit of a pain sometimes, but he’s still really little. Tanner is a great brother. He’s not mean at all. He doesn’t say awful things about people.”

“Just about Mrs Jenkins.” Tanner admits. “That’s the librarian. I don’t like her. She won’t let me take out the big kids books. Even though I’ve read most of the good ones and the rest are boring. She says I’m too little.”

“Mommy will talk to her and get that straightened out, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her lips before joining his brother at the kitchen island. “What are you doing Teej?” 

“I’m making mommy a snack to cheer her up. You wanna help?”

The longer strands of hair on the top of Tanner’s head bounce up and down as he nods. “What do you want me to do?”

“You get the chocolate syrup out of the fridge. Here…” TJ abandons smearing peanut butter over a wrap in favour of collecting a plastic step stool out of the pantry; placing it in front of the island. “...you need your steppy thing to see over the counter.”

Esme watches them as they work side by side; happy to simply be in each other’s company and totally in sync with one another. So vastly different considering they were born only four minutes apart; TJ with his lanky and naturally athletic frame, Tanner much shorter but blessed with broad shoulders and back and shocking strength for someone so young. His hair slightly darker than his older brother's but possessing the same ears, eyes, nose and mouth; their side profiles nearly identical. It doesn’t end at the physical; TJ is wild and carefree and fearless and a social butterfly, Tanner much more reserved and introverted. Yet thick as thieves; still refusing to sleep in separate bedrooms -most nights spent cuddled tightly together in the same bed- and possessing a strong and solid bond and friendship despite their differences. TJ is always the protector; keeping his brother safe during thunderstorms or from the schoolyard bully, always finding ways to make Tanner laugh and smile, and forever putting his twin’s needs before his own.

“Cut the banana the other way,” Tanner suggests. “Like daddy does. He cuts it in circles, remember?”

“I forgot about that part! You’re smart, Tanny. You always remember everything. I’m jealous of you. That you can remember things.”

Tanner’s entire face lights up at the praise from his older brother. “You’re jealous of ME?”

“Yeah, you’re crazy smart and really good in school. And you’ve got a great memory. What’s not to be jealous of? Here, you wanna roll it up?” He slides the plate towards his twin. 'You’re always good at that part. You always tuck the ends in real tight. It’s your small fingers. You can get all the little things other people can’t.”

She smiles as she listens to them; passing compliments back and forth, playfully teasing one another, giggling in unison. And she can’t resist snapping a handful of pictures of them working side by side and sending them to her husband, along with a reminder of how much she loves and how they’ll BOTH work to make things better. While moving back to Australia had improved a lot of things, there was still a lot both had been holding back on; those deep, inner wounds and bad memories of horrible things said and done. Neither had been willing to travel to THAT place; believing that if they just keep them buried, it wouldn’t hold them back or cause further damage. Out of sight, out of mind.

Boy, had they had been wrong.

“Do you want me to make you one?” TJ asks his brother. “We can share; so we don’t ruin dinnertime. Ask mommy, though. She has to say yes.”

“Mommy!” Tanner calls. “Can Teej and I have a snack too? We can share one.”

She nods her permission, and the twins return to the task at hand; spreading peanut butter and arranging banana slices and covering everything with a drizzle of chocolate syrup before rolling all up into a burrito. Her heart full to bursting as TJ offers his twin a hand climbing off the stool; his other palm resting on the small of Tanner’s back as he jumps down.

“You take these,” TJ instructs, and hands his brother two plastic plates. “I’ll get the grapes and the juice boxes. We’ll clean up after, okay?”

“Okay,” Tanner cheerfully agrees , and carries the plates to the table; setting them down before scrambling into his chair and getting up onto his knees. 

It isn’t often that she gets quality time with just the two boys; Declan always on her heels begging for attention or Addie needing a feed. TJ is very much a daddy’s boy; following his father wherever he goes, always wanting to be glued to his side, willing to learn and be part of any past time that his dad enjoys. It’s rare for him to WANT to be in her company; preferring to explore the outdoors and spend time down at the water, choosing rough housing and sports over quieter pursuits. Tanner is the opposite; happiest when he there isn’t a lot of people and noise, choosing a place in the house where it’s calm and quiet to read, or content being by his mother’s side while she tends to housework and taking care of his younger siblings. So it’s a treat; having time with BOTH of them and marvelling over both their differences AND their similarities. The facial expressions they share and way their eyes and the bridges of their noses crinkle when they smile. How Tanner calmly and thoroughly explains every detail of a story or an event during their school day while his brother wildly jumps from thought to thought; speaking fast with that thickening accent of his and ‘talking’ with his hands the entire time. 

“We get to see daddy tomorrow, right?” Tanner asks, and she snaps out of the daze she’d fallen into; her mind wandering as her boys vividly detailed every moment of their day. Her thoughts somehow going from how beautiful and perfect they are to the conversation with Doctor Klein as she left the hospital; tuning out to stories of the twins’ field trip and instead finding herself dwelling on the new diagnosis and the long term ramifications. Thinking of all the things she has to do; fill prescriptions and meet with a therapist of her own (to learn HOW to love and care for someone with bipolar disorder) and get the main floor guest bedroom cleaned out and set up to be used. 

“Mommy?” TJ’s brow is furrowed as he watches her, forearms pressed against the tabletop, hands clasped together. “Did you hear what Tanny asked?”

“Sorry nugget,” she gives an apologetic smile. “My mind drifted for a second.”

“I’m going to call daddy,” TJ announces, and slides off his chair. “You’re acting weird. Daddy will know what to do.”

“Don’t call your dad,” Esme says. “He’s got enough on his plate. He doesn’t need you bothering him with something stupid.”

“It’s not bothering him,” TJ snags the cordless phone off the counter. “He said to call him whenever we wanted. Especially if there was something wrong. And this isn’t stupid. You’re mommy! You’re daddy’s wife. He loves you. And nothing is more important to him than us and you. So I’m calling him.”

“Tyler James…” she scowls, as he hurries through the kitchen. “...put the phone down and get back here!”

“I’m calling daddy! I want to talk to him! I need advice!”

“You’re five! What kind of advice could you possibly need?”

“How to deal with girls when they’re acting weird!” he exclaims, then steps into the pantry and shuts and locks the door behind him. 

Sighing, Esme tilts her head to the side, eyebrows arched as she regards Tanner.

“Don’t look at me,” he says, and calmly sips his juice box. “I’m the good one.”

“What’s it been like here? Since you got home from school? TJ said Millie is in a mood.”

“What’s new? She’s always in a mood. Especially since we got back from India. She’s just grumpy all the time. And mean! TJ is going to punch her out one day. He told her he would. Because she’s always saying mean things to me and Declan. And she yells at Addie to shut up when she cries! Who yells at a baby?”

“I’ll talk to her. See what’s up.”

“I wouldn’t do that, mom. She’s mad at you.”

Esme frowns. “Why is she mad at me?”

“I don’t know. She just is. She’s been mad since we got back here and we found out about daddy being in the hospital. She says that you lied to her; about what happened to daddy. Is that true? Did you lie about it?”

“I didn’t know what to tell her. Daddy was in really bad shape and just had some operations done and no one knew if he was going to come out of that. I was having a hard time dealing with all if it ; daddy being that bad. I needed time to accept it myself. Before I told any of you guys.”

“I mean, I get it. I know why you did it. You didn’t want to upset us. You didn’t want us to be sad and worried. You wanted to make sure that daddy was going to be okay before saying anything.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything. And daddy wouldn’t have wanted to upset you guys either. Not until we knew for sure what was going on.”

“I told Millie that you wouldn’t lie to hurt us. You’d lie to protect us. And that if you did lie, it was an important one. And that daddy would have been okay with it. She doesn’t listen to me, though. She doesn’t listen to anyone. She’s very stubborn.”

“Who does THAT remind you of?”

“Oh she is DEFINITELY daddy’s daughter. Big time.”

“Well?” Esme asks, as TJ finally emerges from the pantry. “Did you get the advice that you wanted?”

“Yup,” he places the phone back on its cradle. “He said to call him later. When we’re all asleep. He says you need a talking to.”

She grins. “He did, did he?”

“I don’t know why he couldn’t do it now. Why he has to wait until we’re in bed. What kind of talking to is that?”

“One that isn’t for little ears. One that mommies and daddies have sometimes. What else did he say?”

“He said to tell you that he loves you and he misses you and he can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And he said to do this…” TJ climbs up onto her lap and takes her face in her hands, kissing her noisily. “...and this…” he wraps both arms around her neck, squeezing as hard as he possibly can. “...those are from him.”

Tears well in her eyes as she presses a kiss to the side of her son’s head and returns the embrace. “Thank you, baby man. I needed that.”

“Daddy said to tell you that everything is going to be okay. That he meant what he said. All of it. And that all that matters is you, and us kids. That’s it.”

“He said that?”

TJ nods. “He also said that once he’s out of there and back on his feet, he’ll take you on that trip. He promises.”

She can’t help but laugh, and the tears trickle freely down her face as she holds her little boy as tight as she can. Reaching back and laying a hand on the top of Tanner’s head as he stands behind her chair and curls his arms around her neck as well. 

“It’s going to be alright, mommy,” TJ promises. “As long as we all stick together, everything will be fine.”

“Yes,” she says, and places a kiss on his temple. “It will be.”


	104. Chapter 104

Esme tries to keep both body and mind occupied. Those every day chores normally considered mundane and tiresome somehow keeping her sane and grounded; the never ending loads of laundry that need tended to, online banking and bill paying, dinner preparations. It helps to have two extra pairs of hands and eyes to help with the kids; she can concentrate on tasks inside while Ovi hunkers down at the back patio table and helps the three oldest with their homework, and Riley takes Declan and the two dogs for a walk along the beach and the water’s edge. She keeps a grumpy and extremely needy and clingy baby with her; resorting to wearing her -chest to chest- in the baby carrier. Addie is the only one out of the five who hasn’t enjoyed her time being ‘worn’ finding the apparatus uncomfortable and confining and preferring to be held in someone’s arms or placed directly against their bodies; content to be able to freely move her arms and legs. Now she’s somewhat placated by the closeness; tiny hands alternating between fisting the fabric of her mother’s t-shirt and being shoved into her mouth, fingers thoroughly being gummed and slobbered on.

She’s aggravated; the long and arduous process of the initial stages of cutting teeth. With her impossibly wee stature, it’s hard to believe that she’ll be five months old in the matter of a week and a half. Able to smile and giggle and even sit up unattended for brief periods of time; extremely alert and curious about the world and the people around her. Especially enamoured with TJ, she never takes her eyes off of him whenever he holds or speaks to her; the normally hyper and extremely active and ‘nutty’ five year old surprisingly soft and gentle with his baby sister. Aside from Tanner - and the issues he’d faced and set him back considerably- all the kids have been fast learners; strong and solid and meeting milestones much earlier than normal. And despite her size. Addie is holding her own; not necessarily tremendous physical growth, but extremely impressive cognitively speaking. 

“You little miss, are very needy lately,” she says to Addie, as the baby nudges her breast with her forehead and then aggressively grabs at it. “When are you going to start growing with all the eating you’ve been doing? You got daddy’s appetite but mommy’s body.” She hikes her t-shirt up to her collarbone and unfastens one of the cups on her nursing bra. “There, Miss Greedy Pants,” she chides, then smiles and presses a kiss to the top of Addie’s head as she eagerly latches on. “I think you’re looking more for comfort than food. Your little world has just been turned all around and upside down, hasn’t it. I bet you’re missing daddy, too; you haven’t had snuggles with him in a few days. You’ll get to see him tomorrow and then you’ll get all kinds of cuddles, I promise.” 

With dinner in the oven and Addie nursing contently, she sits at the kitchen table with her laptop open in front of her as she attempts to concentrate on important matters at hand. While Nik had willingly taken on the responsibility of assigning jobs to those already on the payroll, there's still a list of things that an owner has to oversee; money transfers from clients that need to be sorted, pay checks to be deposited into bank accounts, new hires to be taken on. She’s in way over her head; having her name tied to a business co-owner is one thing, having to actually manage things and balance books and handle exorbitant amounts of money is something else entirely. Aside from helpful pointers from Anil and Nik, there’s not much more she can do than bite the bullet and make all the decisions, and then hope and pray things don’t blow up in her face. 

They need help. Behind the scenes. Even when Tyler IS back on his feet and able to take on his roles as owner and boss, it will be too much for him to handle alone; she can only do so much in between having another baby, raising five other children, and keeping a house running. They’ll need people to handle the financial side of things and ‘techies’ just for starters. People well versed in their areas that will require little to no training or supervision. It won’t be hard to get the word out’ the job is a tight circle of those ‘in the know’ and reputation means everything; it won’t take long for the news to spread that they’re still hiring and offering more than what the competitors are willing to pay.

She adds it to her already overwhelming checklist of things to accomplish.

Her mind wanders during the simple act of switching Addie from one breast to the other. Eyes falling on her purse as it sits open on the chair beside her; pamphlets given to her by Doctor Klein now begging for her attention. She’d promised to give herself a few days to come to terms with the diagnosis and the consequences -and what it means for their entire family- that come with it. She NEEDS time; still numb and devastated and not fully grasping the seriousness and the long term complications There will be tremendous fallout on Tyler’s behalf; the main fear being that he’ll slide further into depression and attempt to shut her and the kids out entirely. Getting him to accept the news will be the most difficult of all. For five and a half years they’ve been dealing with the PTSD and depression and anxiety; bouncing back and forth between medications that never seemed to work quite right and therapists that couldn’t seem to completely nail down his issues. There’d always been hope; some kind of treatment that would finally stick and he’d be able to function and his mental illness wouldn’t be such a black cloud hanging over him -and them- all the time. Now that hope is gone. A new issue thrown into the mix; much more serious and drastic. It will be hard; preventing his brain from convincing that he’s completely broken and a threat to her and the kids. 

Her hand seems to move on its own accord; plucking the handful of brochures from her bag and laying them across the keyboard of her laptop. She knows she shouldn’t do it. That she should give herself some kind of grace period before throwing herself head first into the scary new world. But she can’t help it; fingernails lightly drumming on the cover of the first pamphlet as she chews nervously on her bottom lip. It centres on how to love and support someone with bipolar disorder, and even the inside of the front page is overwhelming; a list of common things to expect and watch out for her and how to deal with them. Most she has witnessed and handled before; severe mood swings, dependency on alcohol and drugs in an attempt to ‘kill the inner pain’, suicidal thoughts and attempts, over the top (always verbal, in Tyler’s case) aggression. But some of the other things are unsetting; the possibility of violent outbursts that can quite possibly turn physical. 

She’s never experienced THAT before. Mark was the abusive one; Tyler turns the punishment inwards and tortures only himself. There’s never been a time when she’s been frightened of him. Not even during his lowest of lows or during those extremely difficult weeks prior to their separation; drunken (on his behalf) arguments where he put his fist through walls or tore doors off their hinges. But bipolar is a whole other ballgame and if he goes into a tailspin and doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying, the possibility of him lashing out physically IS there. And given his height, weight, an enormous strength advantage (and the things he’s capable of doing with his bare hands), that’s damn scary.

A commotion on the back patio acts as a well needed reprieve; Millie and TJ screaming at each other from across the table and the ever patient and passive Ovi -with the help of a frightened looking Tanner- acting as peacekeeper. From what she can gather, TJ is simply defending himself; his sister losing her shit over what must be the only available purple magic marker and the sole ruler left on earth. He was using them first and not finished with them yet, and Millie in true Queen style, is demanding he give them to her and is pissed off he isn’t obeying her orders. 

She’s chosen the wrong brother to get THAT way with.

“Hey!” Esme hollers, and raps her knuckles against the window to get their attention. “Knock it off right now! Wait until your brother is finished!”

“He’s taking too long,” Millie yells back. “If he wasn’t so stupid, he wouldn’t be so slow!”

“I’m not stupid!’ TJ argues. “You’re just a huge bitch!”

“Your brother is not stupid! He’s in kindergarten for crying out loud! And Tyler, watch your mouth. You want to lose your entire allowance to the swear jar?”

“But mum, she IS a huge bitch!”

“Tyler James! What did I just say? Do you want to be taking the garbage out and emptying the dishwasher and scrubbing you and your brother’s bathroom for free for an entire month? Stop with the language. Right now, young sir.”

“Sorry mum,” he mutters, and then sinks down into his seat and turns his attention back to his homework; bangs falling across his furrowed brow, his expression intense and caused as he concentrates on the task in front of him.

“You’re such a baby,” Millie attempts to antagonize him. “Having to get your mommy to fight your battles for you.”

“Don’t talk about my mum like that,” TJ snarls. “Shut your mouth and sit down. No one needs to hear your shit.”

“Tyler!” Esme knocks on the window once more. “Did you not hear me? Just ignore her. Just do your own thing, and let her do hers. Breathe, baby man. Just breathe.”

“Just sit down and be quiet,” Tanner begs his sister. “Just wait until Teej is finished. Sheesh. What’s the big deal?”

“You shut up Tanner!” Millie orders. Or I’ll shut you up.”

“Oh yeah…” TJ tosses the objects in his hands onto the table and then stands on his chair, glaring menacingly at Millie. “...you touch him and I’ll beat the shit out you. I don’t care if you’re a girl and daddy said never to hit you. Because I WILL hit you! Hard!”

“No fighting!’ Tanner tearfully implores. “Stop fighting!”

“You’re a pussy!” Millie scoffs, and then forcefully shoves him off his chair; a quick reacting Ovi grabbing him before he can hit the ground.

Chaos erupts. TJ climbing onto the table and crawling across in order to grab a hold of sister’s hair; yanking her head backwards with one hand as the other wraps around her throat. A brawl ensues; the chair tipping backwards and punches and kicks thrown as two small bodies fall to the ground and then wrestle with one another. They scream insults and profanities; Tanner shrieking in terror as he desperately clings to Ovi.

Esme jumps to her feet, quickly strapping Addie into her swing and hurriedly straightening her clothes before racing outside. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She snatches Millie by the back of her t-shirt and yanks her off her brother. “I am so sick of your shit these last two days! What the hell, child?”

“You always stick up for him!” Millie yells. “He never gets in trouble ‘cause he’s your favorite!”

“That is horseshit and you know it! When has TJ NOT gotten in crap because he deserved it? But YOU started this! You kept needling and needling him and you wouldn’t let up even AFTER he warned you.And then you go and hurt Tanner? What is going on with you?”

“I hate it here! I hate this stupid house and this stupid country and my stupid brothers and my stupid baby sister!”

“Don’t you even dare,” Esme warns, capturing her daughter by the wrists when she draws a fist back as if to punch her. “Don’t you even think about it, young lady. I brought you into this world, I will take you out of it. Get in the house!”

“You’ve never liked me! You’ve always hated me! Because I’m daddy’s favourite! He loves me more than he loves you and can’t stand it. You’re jealous!”

“Get in the house,” Esme repeats. “Now!”

“No wonder daddy doesn’t like you. I don’t like you either! I hate you!”

“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” Ovi speaks up. “Don’t EVER talk to her like that. You think your dad would like hearing that?”

“He doesn’t like her either! He just sticks around ‘cause of us kids.”

“I said go inside,” Esme orders, and points to the door “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, understand me?”

“I hope daddy leaves you! I hope he marries someone better! Someone nicer!”

“Amelia...not another word…”

“And I hope he takes me with him when he goes!” Millie screams, and then aggressively shoves her mother away before stomping away. “So I don’t have to ever see you again!” 

*****

It takes an hour for things to settle down. Ovi managing to calm Tanner while Esme cleans up TJ’s bloody nose and split lip and concocts a story for him to tell at school; a mishap on his bike causing the cuts and bruises and a black eye. And while the others sit outside with dinner, she stands at the door to the pantry with a plate of food in one hand and a cup of chocolate milk in the other. Millie’s been holed up in there for the entire sixty minutes; heart wrenching sobs eventually dying down into whimpers and then loud sniffling. She’s wanted to give her daughter not only time to cool off, but her own bruised ego and wounded heart a chance to heal; the words -whether true or not- have hit hard and deeper; she thought she had years to go before one of her kids told her that they hated her. There’d been such hurt in Millie’s voice and eyes; so much vehemence. Even hate. And that is proving to be far more painful than her words themselves,

“Amelia,” she taps her toes against the door. “Are you okay in there? Are you awake?”

“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I just want to check on you. You beat up your brother pretty bad, but I think he did more damage to you. Are you alright? Do you need anything? Some ice or a wet face cloth or…?”

“I’m fine. TJ’s not that tough. I’ve had worse.”

“Somehow I doubt that, but if you say you’re okay…”

“I said I’m fine! I don’t need you. Go away.”

“Are you hungry? I made your and daddy’s favourite; chicken parm. That’s the one thing I make that daddy says is actually edible. You must be hungry. It’s past dinner time and you haven’t eaten anything since you got home from school. I even brought you some chocolate milk.”

A loud sniffle. “We never get to have chocolate milk at dinner. Daddy doesn’t let us.”

“It’ll be our little secret, okay? Everyone got to have it tonight. You won’t tell on me, will you?”

Another sniffle. “No.”

“Do you think you could unlock the door and let me in? We don’t have to talk or anything. I just want you to have some dinner. That’s it. I know you’re hungry. Can you do that for me? Unlock the door and let me in?”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know you don’t. I know you’re mad at me. But I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want to come in there and give you hell. I just want to come in and sit with you while you eat. Will you let me do that?”

Silence.

“Millie...I’m trying here...just let me do this for you, alright? Let me give you some dinner.”

“You promise not to talk?”

“I’ll only talk if you want me too. Or if you talk first. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Esme steps back from the door as the lock clicks open and the door swings out into the kitchen. “Oh baby girl,” she sighs when she sees the state of her daughter’s face; an eye that’s quickly turning black and blue and bruises on her throat from TJ’s fingers and scrapes across her forehead. “He got you really good, didn’t he.”

“He’s tougher and stronger than I thought,” Millie admits. 

“I’m going to keep you home from school tomorrow, okay? I can pass TJ’s issues off as a bike mishap, but yours? Not a chance. Do you mind? Staying home?”

“Nope. I hate school.”

“Since when? You love school.”

“Since we got back. Everything sucks since we got home. Sucks big time.”

“I hear you there. Things have been pretty crappy this past month, haven’t they.”

Millie nods.

“Here…” Esme offers the plate of food and the cup of chocolate milk. “...want me to close the door?”

“Please.”

She does as requested, then takes a seat on the floor across from her daughter; leaning back against the shelves and pulling her knees into her chest; arms wrapping around her calves. Neither speak for several minutes; Millie still sniffling as she eagerly digs into her dinner. She looks so much like her father when he’s upset; deep furrows across the brow, lips set in a thin, stern line, normally vibrant eyes dark and stormy. Esme sees more of him in the oldest with each passing day; physical looks and mannerisms and facial expressions. And it’s easy to picture her as a teenager; all long, tanned limbs and beautiful eyes and that wild, unruly hair.

“Good?” she asks, when the six year old finishes her dinner and places the empty plate on the ground beside her. “You have enough?”

“I’m full. And yeah, it was good.”

“Tummy’s all happy? It doesn’t want anything else?”

“It’s happy,” she says, and sips at the chocolate milk. “We’re not supposed to be talking, remember?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was hoping maybe we were friends again. That maybe you WOULD want to talk to me. Because I really want to talk to you. And not in a bad way; I’m not here to yell at you or make you feel bad. Not in the slightest. I just want to talk. Can we do that? Have a heart to heart?”

“I suppose.”

“It’s really important that we clear air, don’t you think? You know how daddy and I always talk after we have a fight? How we never go to bed angry with each other? Well that helps. A lot. When you talk things out and get all the bad feelings out. So I think we should do that too. What do you think?”

Millie shrugs. “Can’t hurt I guess.”

“I know that you’re hurting. Your heart. I know it’s hurting an awful lot. And I know your whole world seems out of control right now; nothing makes sense and it’s scary and it’s confusing and nothing feels ‘right’ and everything feels wrong. And I know when things get that like, we can act and talk in ways that we normally don’t. So I want you to know that. That I know you’re angry and you’re sad and your heart is sore. I get it, baby girl. I do. Because mine is too. I totally get it. Am I making any sense?”

Millie nods.

“I know you miss daddy. I know he’s your whole world. And right now, your whole is hurt and in the hospital and he’s been there for what seems like forever. And you haven’t been able to see him. I know how badly you want to see him; to tell him you love him and hug him and make sure he’s alright with your own two eyes. But he wanted to be at least a little bit better before you guys saw him. Because it IS hard to see; him as hurt as he is. He just wanted to make things easier on all of you. I know you can understand that. You know daddy is like that; he’ll do anything to protect you guys.”

“I do. I DO know that.”

“I know how much you love him, Millie. I know how big of a role he has in your life. He’s been your ‘person’ since you were born. He’s always been the one to take care of you. To scare the monsters away and make you feel better during a bad storm or when you wake up from a nightmare. It’s always been daddy, hasn’t it.”

“Always.”

“And it’s hard not having him here. It’s a huge change for you. A painful one. And I’m sorry, Millie. That you’ve had to go through this. I really am. This is the last thing daddy and I ever wanted for you and your brothers and your sister. We didn’t want this to happen. Daddy especially didn’t want this to happen. All he wants is to be home with all of you. There’s nothing he wants more.”

“He misses us?”

“Of course he does. Daddy loves you guys so much. You’ll never understand HOW much. He’s miserable being away from you for so long. This isn’t like when he normally goes away; he’s usually home by now.”

“Is he going to go away again? For his job? When he gets better?”

“No. He’s not. He’s giving that up. We started our own business and he’s going to stay home and run that. Be the boss for a change.”

“What kind of business? Catching bad guys?”

Esme nods.

“But will HE have to go after the bad guys? Or just other people?”

“Just other people. Unless he’s REALLY needed somewhere. But he wants to stay home. So he can spend as much time as he can with you and brothers and sister. Don’t you think that will be a nice change? Having him here all the time?”

“Is he telling the truth? He’s lied before; about giving up work and staying home. He’s lied TWICE now. And look what happened this time.”

“He’s telling the truth, sweet pea. He’s done. He’s ready to give it up. He’s ready to run the show and stay home and be a full time husband and daddy. And it’s going to take him a long time to get back on his feet. He’s in pretty rough shape. I’m going to need you to help, okay?”

“Help with what?”

“There’s going to be a lot that he can’t do for a while. Or that he shouldn’t do, but will try anyway. Do you think you could help me keep an eye on him? Make sure he doesn’t overdo it? Get him things when he needs them? Like if he wants a snack or something to drink or just some extra love and cuddles? Think you can do that?”

Millie nods. “I can do that.”

“Daddy needs lots of love and cuddles. It will help him get better quicker. And that’s what we want, right?”

“Yup.”

“And he’s doing so well, Millie. He really is. He’s come a long way in a short period of time. He was hurt really bad and all of the doctors said that it would take him a long while to get better. And he proved them all wrong.”

“If anyone CAN prove them wrong, it’s daddy. He’s tough.”

“Yeah, he is. He’s very tough. And in a week’s time, he’ll be home and things can start going back to normal. He won’t be able to do the normal daddy stuff, but at least he’ll be here.”

“I miss him,” Millie sighs. “I miss him a lot.”

“I know you do. I know how much you love him. Right from the start he was your favourite. When the nurse gave you to him in the delivery room and you stopped crying as soon as you heard his voice and you wrapped all your little fingers around one of his and you snuggled right into his chest.”

“I did?”

“You did. You knew it was your daddy. You recognized his voice right away. He used to talk to you all the time; when you were in my tummy.”

“What did he talk to me about?”

“A whole bunch of different stuff. He’d talk about the beach and the ocean and surfing and how he couldn’t wait to teach you. He was so excited about that; having a surfing buddy.”

“He was?”

“He was,” Esme confirms. “It was what he was most excited about. That you’d be a chip off the old block and love it as much as he does. I remember the first time he took you out there; in a baby carrier strapped to his chest. You were just a tiny little thing and you had a huge smile on your face the whole time. You weren’t even scared. You’re never scared when you’re with your daddy, are you.”

“Never. He’s big and he’s strong and he makes me feel safe.”

“That’s exactly how he makes me feel.”

“Did you know I was a girl? Before I was born?”

“We did. We found out when I was seven months pregnant. We weren’t going to; we were going to wait to be surprised. But we couldn’t wait any longer so we had the doctor check and tell us. I had a feeling though; that you were going to be a girl.”

“Did daddy want a boy? Because Austin was a boy?”

“Daddy wanted a healthy baby. And that’s what he got. He was happy when we found out we were having a girl. And a little scared.”

“Daddy was scared?” Millie’s eyes widen. “‘Cause I was a girl?”

“He just didn’t know how to take care of a little girl, that’s all. He was worried he wouldn’t be a good girl dad.”

“Is he crazy? He’s the BEST girl dad ever. He knows how to do my hair all kinds of different ways, he plays Barbies with me, he comes to my tea parties. He’s an awesome girl dad.”

“He is, isn’t he. He’s an awesome daddy all around.”

Millie nods in agreement.

“I know you hate me right now, Amelia. But I LOVE you. More than I ever thought I could love anyone or anything. You have no idea how badly I wanted you. How excited I was when I found out I was having you. I’d wanted to be a mommy for so long. Do you remember what I told you? About being married before daddy?”

“I remember. To that Mark guy. Who came to the park that day in Colorado. Daddy said he wasn’t a very nice person. That he was really mean to you when you were married to him.”

“He wasn’t a nice person. At all. And when I was married to him, I got pregnant but I lost the baby.”

“That’s sad. You must have cried a lot.”

“I did. I was heartbroken. I wanted nothing more than to be a mommy. And after that, I gave up on that dream. I never thought I’d be a mommy after that. Or get married again.”

“And then you met daddy.”

“And then I met daddy. Everything changed that. My entire life became so different. I’d met this amazing, beautiful, wonderful man that taught me what it was like to love and be loved. REAL love. Then we found out we were having you. I was so happy, Millie. Because I was so in love and wanted nothing more than to have a baby with your daddy. But I was scared too.”

“Of what?”

“Of loving someone that much. Of having a baby so soon after I met him. We didn’t know each other that well when we found out about you. And you know what? You brought us together. Stronger and faster than anything else ever could. You’re a miracle, you know that? You really are. Because daddy never thought he’d ever have kids again. And he almost died before we ever found out about you. That’s why what you have with daddy...that bond you have...is so strong and so special. Why he loves you the way he does. You’re the start of his new life. His second chance. And nothing can ever take that away. Nothing.”

Sighing heavily, Millie leans back against the shelves behind her and tucks her knees into her chest, mimicking her mother’s sitting position; slowly nursing her chocolate milk. “I don’t really hate you, mommy. And I’m sorry I said that.”

“Do you want to tell me why you’re so angry with me? Because if I did something to hurt you, I want to know. It’s hard being a mommy; I make mistakes all the time. So help me learn, okay? Tell me what I did to hurt you, sweet pea. So I can make it better.”

“I’m jealous.”

“Of what?”

“That you get to see daddy all the time. You get to be with him and talk to him and do things with him. Even when we came home; you stayed far away with him.”

“I couldn’t leave him there alone. He needed me. He was hurt, Millie. Badly. And he couldn’t be left by himself. Not there. Not in such bad shape. I knew that you guys would be safe and I knew you’d be taken care of. So I stayed with daddy. So he wouldn’t be alone and scared.”

“And since he got home, you’ve been with him every day. You even sleep over there sometimes. We haven’t seen him once.”

“Millie, there’s reasons for that. Daddy wanted to feel better and look a bit better before bringing you guys to see him. That was HIS choice. I respected it. Everything he does...every decision he makes...is because he loves you and wants to protect you. And I know you miss him. Terribly. He misses you, too. But he loves you and wanted to spare you some things. That’s all it was. It wasn’t to hurt you. Or make you jealous.”

“And you lied to me.”

“About what?”

“About daddy being hurt. When I called you that night, you were at the hospital, weren’t you.”

“I was,” Esme confirms.

“You said daddy was out doing work and that’s why he wasn’t answering his texts and all my calls. But it was because he was really hurt bad, wasn’t it.”

Esme nods.

“Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. I was in a really bad place and daddy was in bad shape and I didn’t know if he was going to make it through the night. I was terrified of losing him; I needed to cope with it and accept what might happen. It was hard enough for me to go through. I didn’t want to put that on you. It wouldn’t have been fair to put that on you. Not at your age. I needed time, Millie. Because I was scared I was going to lose the love of my life and I didn’t know how to deal with that. I was alone and I was afraid and I didn’t want you to be afraid too.”

“But I could have helped you. I could have made you feel better.”

“Baby girl, I love you so much for saying that. For WANTING to do that. But it was a terrible situation and I wanted to protect you. I’m sorry I lied to you and that I hurt you because of it. I never meant to hurt you. I only meant to protect you. That’s it. It was never about hurting you. I’d never...ever...do that. You’re my heart. All of you are. You have no idea how proud I am to be your mommy. How happy you’ve made me. How you completed me the second I found out about you.” 

“I don’t hate you. And I’m sorry I said that. I really am.”

“We say things when we’re hurting. I’ve said a lot of mean and uncalled for things when I’ve been sad and scared.”

“You’re not mad at me? Because of what I said?”

“No. I’m not. But I am mad that you hurt Tanner. He didn’t deserve that. He was innocent in the entire thing. You hurt his feelings and I think you should apologize to him. Tanner adores you. Even at your worst. But he’s very sensitive and you know that. You know how badly things hurt him.”

“I’ll apologize to him. I didn’t mean it. I was just angry. And sad.”

“And I think you should apologize to TJ.”

“He hit ME.”

“You pushed him and you pushed him and he warned you, Millie. He told you to back off. And when you did that to Tanner, he snapped. He keeps a lot of things inside; especially his anger. Who does that sound like that?”

“Daddy.”

“You overreacted. About the marker and the ruler. He WAS using them first. You didn’t have a right to demand that he hand them over. You’re not his boss. Or his parent. You’re his sister. And I know he can get on your nerves and I know he has issues, but you should say you’re sorry. For egging him on like that. I bet if you say you’re sorry, he’ll say it back. He’s very remorseful; that he hurt you.”

“He is?”

“You say things when you’re angry, he DOES things. I’m not saying that’s right, but you BOTH screwed up. Big time. And he got in trouble, too.”

“I didn’t mean ANY of it. Especially the things I said,” Millie’s voice cracks with emotion. “I don’t want daddy to leave.”

“He’s not going anywhere. He’s happy where he is. With us.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He loves you. Everyone knows that.”

She grins. “Everyone, huh?”

“He doesn’t exactly hide it, you know. It’s in his eyes, mostly. He talks with his eyes more than he does with his mouth.”

“Yeah,” Esme smiles. “He does.”

“I miss him,” it comes out as a choked sob. “I miss daddy.”

“I know you do. I miss him too. Even though I see him all the time, I still miss him. I miss having him here. Seeing him and hearing his voice whenever I want. This is hard for me too, sweet pea. It’s so very hard.”

“I just want him to come home,” Millie finally breaks down, and crawls on her hands and knees towards her mother. “I just want daddy home.”

“I know you do.” Esme stretches her legs out and gathers her daughter into her arms; pressing a kiss to her temple and then laying a hand on the back of her head, drawing it down to her shoulder. Her own tears threatening as Millie’s long, slender body trembles violently against her. “That’s all I want too.”


	105. Chapter 105

“You’ve been very busy on Instagram, husband.”

It’s damn good to hear her voice; the affection and the light hearted teasing that accompanies her little ‘pet name’ for him. It makes him smile; the realization that he is..in fact..her husband, and that she always says it with so much love and pride in her eyes. Despite all their issues and all of his broken promises and the falling back into old horrible habits and bad vices, she still has never regretted it. Regretted HIM. There’s never been a time -even when he’d been at his very worst- that he hasn’t seen love in her eyes; no matter what lies he told or how many times he would get scared and run off. It’s always been there. Whether he’s deserved it or not. Even during their six month separation it had been there. When he’d show up to visit the kids and things would be uncharacteristically tense and uncomfortable between them; their usual banter and the easy, effortless way they could always talk to one another replaced by anxiety and simmering anger and disappointment. But that look had still been in her eyes; soft and beautiful despite being overpowered by tears. 

He’d see it when he’d go to leave. Standing there on the bottom step of the porch while she stood in the doorway; her hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans while she nervously rocked back and forth on her heels. It was in those last moments when they would actually manage to talk; mostly him promising to show up and fix things in and around the house that she couldn’t tend to on her own or about things the kids needed. They’d agreed not to involve lawyers. He’d never dream of NOT providing for her or their children and definitely didn’t need a judge telling him what his responsibilities were. And she didn’t think there was a need for a court appointed visitation schedule; trusting him to do what was right for his own flesh and blood and making it clear that he was free to come and see them whenever he wanted to. 

Despite all the hurt, the love and respect for each other still remained; they weren’t interested in seeing other people or being enemies , and were both hopeful that they’d manage to put things back together and be a family again. Sometimes she’d even smile and laugh at something he said; her entire face -as weary and sad as it was- lighting up and her eyes sparkling. Then there were the moments he’d tell her he was leaving for a job and didn’t know when he’d be back; if he even managed to get back at all. The sadness would return then; the fear, the worry, even disbelief and anger. And she’d abandon the safety of the front door and stand on the top step and kiss him and hug him; clinging to him with every ounce of strength and power that little body possessed. Tears in her eyes when she’d hold his face in one hand and push the hair off his brow with the fingers of the off. 

“You HAVE to come back,” she’d order. “You HAVE to.”

Some nights she’d let him stay. They’d have dinner as a family and then he’d tend to the kids’ bedtime routines. Giving baths and tucking them into bed; cuddling with them and reading stories until they fell asleep. He’d lie awake beside them, combing his fingers through their hair and both marvelling how beautiful and perfect they were, and hating himself for screwing their lives up so badly. It was a fucking mess. HE was a mess. And while he desperately wanted to change and wanted nothing more than to be with his wife and kids again, he didn’t know where to start; terrified of failing all of them and making an even bigger mess. Afterwards, he’d join his wife in the kitchen and help her clean up; quietly and efficiently working side by side, both having so much to say and not knowing exactly where to start. 

A handful of times she’d refused to let him leave; she’d stand on the edge of the porch and cling to him and kiss him with such passion and desperation and beg him to come back inside -to their bed-; at least for a little while. He’d spend hours there. Slowly and methodically worshipping every inch of her before burying himself inside of her; those legs wrapped around his waist and those nails clawing at his back and ribs and those teeth digging into his shoulders. And he’d take the physical punishment; driving into her harder and harder until she was sobbing and biting back screams. Then they’d lay together. Completely spent and sated in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs; losing themselves in those long conversations they’d indulged since their first night together years before. Everything would seem perfect and normal; until the light of day when he had to be gone before the kids woke up. Neither wanting to confuse and hurt them anymore than they already were. It was messy. THEY were messy. And soon after the last night spent together, things went from bad to worse; reinjuring his back and his shoulder while on a job and instead of being open and honest about it with her, delving even heavier and deeper into the booze and drugs. 

He never spent another night there again. Not until six months later and she’d called him in the middle of the night and begged him to come home. For good. To fight for her and their family and CHANGE once and for all; no promising to do it and having it last a few months at a time before falling back into old habits. He’d thought for sure that it would stick; he’d get out of the job once and for all and go back to rehab and then concentrate on being a husband and father. And it HAD worked. He’d found his ‘niche’ with his little side ‘career’ doing home renos and basic maintenance and repairs; he became a present and a hands on dad and a more attentive and loving husband. Despite the loss of a baby early in pregnancy, things had been incredible; their relationship became stronger and more intense and they somehow managed to fall more in love with each passing day. Neither had been truly content in Colorado. They’d spent many a night talking about wanting to go back to Australia; and she’d cry in his arms about her family’s constant interference and the stress they brought on both her and their marriage and her fears that one day they’d be successful about tearing them apart. At the time it had seemed like nothing more than wishful thinking on their part; people who had thought he was dead after Dhaka both knew he was alive and his exact whereabouts; he couldn’t put her and their then small family in harm's way. 

Then Michael McMann happened. Ireland.. New Zealand. Just a big fucking nightmare that seemed to stretch on. But two good things HAD come out of it; the money from the IRA and a year of protection promised to him and his family had allowed them to return home. To the place they’d started their lives together and had been disgustingly happy despite how humble and simple their beginnings. He was able to make her dream come true; bringing her back to the last place she’d been truly content and relaxed. Where he knew nothing could come between them; no familial drama, no remaining ties to the job, a house tucked away on a dead end street and tons of property backing onto the house. Their slice of paradise; well earned and deserved after what seemed like years of constant heartache and turmoil.

He’d managed to capture the exact moment he’d told her they were going home; a photo of her with a hand placed against her mouth and her eyes red and welling with tears. The look of pure and utter happiness; all those nights crying about wanting to be ‘free from her family’ and wanting to go back were finally behind her. And it had been one of the pictures -in an assortment of more than three dozen- he’d posted on Instagram; accompanied by a caption that would be considered uncharacteristically sappy. But it was the one of the best moments of his life; being able to end that turmoil and anguish inside of her and make at least one of her dreams come true.

He’s still not sold on the brownstone in New York City.

“I needed the distraction,” he says, wincing as he tries to adjust his position in bed; discomfort in both the back AND the leg. The doctor assuring him that the pain is actually a GOOD sign. His back muscles becoming stronger and tighter and the wound -as deep and jagged as it been, thanks to Nathan shoving his fingers into- healing better than expected. The leg is responding the way it showed to the metal device screwed into the bone; expanding it and strengthening it, the break looking ‘cleaner’ with each x-ray. It feels like shit; a burning, throbbing agony that not even the pain meds want to touch anymore. Those will be increased in the days leading up to discharge; at home he’ll have to rely on doses given to him, not able to be trusted to handle it himself.

“I notice your distraction includes A LOT of bathing suit pictures of me.”

He smirks. “Those are my favourite.”

“And this one comment...about putting the picture in the...and I quote ‘wank library’. Are you being serious right now? Do you really have a wank library?”

“Maybe…”

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“Do you? Do you seriously have one of those?”

“I do,” he admits. “On my phone. Along with that video.”

“You told me you were going to erase that months ago! What the hell is wrong with you? We made that for fun. To watch one or twice.”

“Once or twice? More like a dozen. Don’t play all innocent and sweet with me. I KNOW you. I’ve spent seven years with you. I know what kind of dirty little freak you are.”

“You said you were going to erase it!” Esme laments. “You still watch it?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you have a wank library too?”

“Look, a guy needs things. For when his girl has a headache or is too tired or doesn’t feel well. I’ve got to have something to fall back on. Would you rather I jerk off to porn on the ‘net or pictures of OTHER women?”

“Well, no. I AM flattered it’s me you’re doing it to. But seriously, what if someone goes in your phone? What if one of the kids is innocently watching Youtube videos and they get curious and start searching for other things? What then? What if they come across your dirty pictures and your video? What then? What if Riley finds them?”

“That little red headed freak would get off to them.”

“Okay, that’s just wrong. I’m her sister. I doubt she’d get off to pictures in a bathing suit and a video of us fucking. What if Andy sees it?”

“He’d probably enjoy it. It’s hot. You look incredible in it.”

“As much as I love you for always stroking my ego, I don’t want people we know...ESPECIALLY our children...coming across something like that.”

“If it’s Declan we can tell him that’s when he was made.”

“Jesus Christ…” she murmurs “...I really hate you right now.”

“Do you Esme?” He grins. “Do you really?”

“No,” she giggles. “I don’t. I never could. I love you way too much. Are you alright? You said you needed a distraction. What’s going on? You okay?”

“I never do good at night,” he admits. “I think it’s just because I’m here. If I was at home it wouldn’t be this bad.”

Not doing well at night is a serious understatement. No matter how good his days., how impressive his physio sessions, or how optimistic he is about his recovery, as soon as the sun goes down his mood follows suit. For someone who spent years living in relative seclusion in that little shack in the outback, he suddenly craves company; needing to be surrounded by activity and noise and to keep his mind occupied. When he’s alone he feels as if he’s suffocating; the walls closing in on him and his chest tightening and his heart racing. And it’s when his mind is the loudest; reminding him of every mistake he’s made over the past seven years and all the harsh, hurtful words he’s every said and how his wife’s world would be so much better without him in it. 

“Maybe you need a little something to help your nerves,” Esme says. “Something just to take the edge off. So you can relax. You even sound wound up right now. Anxious. What’s going on?”

“Same shit every night. It goes away eventually. And that’s the last thing I need; more meds.”

“I don’t think the ones they’re giving you before bed are working. Did you even sleep at all last night? Have you BEEN sleeping?”

“I’ve been doing alright.” He HAD been, until the nightmares started. He’s been afraid to even close his eyes since. He can handle dreams about horrible things happening to him; for years he consistently relieved the more painful and traumatic moments of his first ‘trip’ to Dhaka and he knows he’s got many a night ahead of revisiting his time in that storage locker with Nathan. 

“Tyler?”

“I’m here.”

“ARE you sleeping? Because you were restless as hell last night. Was it because I was there? Was it too warm with me in bed with you? Was I too heavy against you or…”

“You weigh like a hundred pounds.”

“I’m actually a hundred and twenty but…”

“Soaking wet, maybe. And no. It had nothing to do with you being here. I WANTED you there. I’m glad you showed up. I needed you here.”

“You won’t heal properly if you don’t rest,” she reminds him. “And if this is an ongoing thing again…”

“I’ve been having a hard time,” he admits.

“Even with the meds? They told me they were giving you something; to relax you enough so you fall asleep. If those meds aren’t working, I can get them to try something else.”

“I don’t need anything else.”

“Well if they’re not doing what they’re supposed to…”

“I haven’t been taking them. I’ve been pretending too, though. I put them in my mouth and act like I’m swallowing them and then I go to the bathroom and spit them out.”

Esme gives a small sigh. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, okay? Let me deal with it.”

“You are EVERYTHING I worry about. You’re my husband. The father of my kids. There’s no way I CAN’T worry about you. Especially right now. Talk to me, Tyler. Please. What’s wrong? Do they make you feel worse? Do they make you feel anxious or even more depressed or…?”

“Nightmares. Bad ones.”

“About what happened?”

“Sort of. Mostly about you. And some about Millie and Addie. Nathan and Asif’s people getting a hold of the three of you and…” The mere mention of it causes his anxiety to build; chest constricting and heart rate accelerating. And he briefly closes his eyes and inhales deeply as he attempts to regain control.

“It’s okay.” Her voice is calm and soft. Reassuring. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s easy to figure out what the dreams are about; there’s only certain things that get THIS riled up. What do you think is causing them? The meds? Or is just your brain starting to remember things and then reminding of your worst fears? Something is causing. Let’s try and figure out.”

“I don’t think it’s the best. I think it’s just me. My fucked up brain. And all I can think about the shit he said; about how they’d get to you and the kids and the things they’d do to you when they did.”

“But that never happened,” she gently reminds him. “None of that happened. It was words. Threats. That’s it. He was trying to break you; mentally. There’s no proof anyone was ever going to find me and the kids and do things to us. It’s what he wanted you to think. What Mahajan and Asif’s people wanted to put into your head. Because they knew that would be the only thing that WOULD break; something happening to your family.”

“There’s no proof they wouldn’t have done all that stuff either.”

“No. There’s not. But nothing came of it and it’s over now. Everyone involved is dead. Nathan, Mahajan and all the people on his list, Asif’s goonies. They’re all gone, Tyler. They’re long gone. There’s nothing left to be afraid of. No one can hurt us. The threat is gone. We’re safe. You took care of it. You protected us. Just like you said you would.”

“What about now? If something happened now, I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do much, would I. I wouldn’t be able to protect you now.”

“There’s no reason to, I’m fine. The kids are fine. You can rest. Finally. And we’ll find a way to make that happen. We’ll try different meds, okay? Maybe this one just isn’t working for you; causing more than good. There’s always an explanation, right? Every time you have nightmares, there’s always a reason behind them.”

“Maybe this is just who I am now. Maybe he DID break me. Mentally. Maybe I’m just fucked up now.”

“He didn’t break you. He came close, but he didn’t manage. You’re too strong for that. He totally underestimated you. You’re not broken.”

“Then why am I like this? Why is my brain like this? Why…?”

“Because you’re sick. Because you’ve got a legitimate illness. And we’re going to figure what it is and we’re going to deal with it. Together. But you are not broken, Tyler Rake. You’re far from being broken. Doctor Klein will figure out what’s going on with you and we’ll go from there. But first, let’s figure out how to get you some sleep, okay? I’ll call him tomorrow; see if he can’t find something better. Without wicked side effects.”

“You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve having to put up with all of this. Put up with ME.”

“Stop, alright? Just stop. There’s nothing wrong with you. At least not something so horrible that we can’t deal with it. You know how you realize to have faith in you? Well now it’s time you have some faith in ME. I love you. In ways I never thought I’d ever love another human being. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m in this for the long haul. So if you’ve got other plans…”

“Nope. No other plans. I kinda like having you around.”

“Well then you’re stuck with me, aren’t you?”

He smiles. “I can think of worse fates.”

“We’ll figure this all out. I promise. You’re not alone in this. Although I’m sure it probably feels that way right about now.”

“It’ll be better when I’m home. When we’re actually under the same roof. It’s hard; being away from you. And if admitting that makes me weak as fuck…”

“You are far from being weak. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. And one day, you’ll see yourself that way too; the way I see you. It might make you totally sappy and a total fool in love…”

“I’ve been called a hell of a lot worse.”

“...but weak? Never. You could never be weak. And I feel the same way. It IS hard. Not having you here. I miss you. My heart misses you. Doesn’t matter if I see you every day; it’s not the same as having you here. When you’re home, I can see you and talk to you whenever I want. If I wake up in the middle of the night, or have a bad dream, you’re right there. And I miss that; your body all warm and cozy and being able to cuddle into it. I’m even starting to miss your cold feet.”

“Now THAT’S love.”

“I’m guess I’m just as much of a fool in love as you are. And it stays that way; us feeling that way about each other.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“What if you get bored? What if one day you wake up and you’re tired of the ‘same old, same old’. What if you can’t handle one more day of having sex with the same person years on end?”

“That is NEVER going to happen. I love you too much to ever get bored. I am perfectly happy to just fuck you for the rest of my life.”

She giggles. “And people say romance is dead. I DO miss you. Badly.”

“I miss you too, baby. And won’t be long now; just a little more than a week.”

“Can’t come soon enough. Are you going to be okay? For the night? Do you want me there? Because just say the word and I'll be there. You know I will.”

“I DO want you here, but you need to stay home. You need rest, too. You’ve got a baby in you. MY baby. And you need to make them your priority now. Have you been having any more problems or…?”

“Just some cramps and light spotting. Nothing serious. I had worse with Tanner and TJ.”

“Yeah well considering what was going on with them, they’re not the best example.”

“I even had worse with Addie. We had a couple pretty good scares with her, didn’t we.”

“She gave us a run for our money, that’s for sure. The little ones are always trouble. I learned that the hard way seven years ago. When you showed up on my porch.”

“Your dog liked me,” she points out. “She had good taste.”

“Oh I liked what I saw, that’s for sure. What’s not to like? That ass in those little shorts? I was a goner.”

“And here I was thinking it was my big brown eyes and my beautiful smile.”

“You have brown eyes?”

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she laughs. “But I love you all the time, so…”

“I love you, Esme. You’ll never know how much. And I’m glad we had that talk today.”

“The fight, you mean?”

“It was one of our better ones. We haven’t had a good fight like that in a long time.”

“I’m sorry. That I got worked up like that. If I came across too mean or too harsh or…”

“You had every right to say the things you did. It was all true; I have fucked up. I haven’t been the best man for you. I haven’t been a very good husband or friend to you. And I’m sorry for that. Taking advantage of you; always thinking you’d stick around no matter how bad I fucked up.”

“For what it’s worth, you haven’t been bad all the time. You’ve been amazing; you’ve been loving and attentive and incredible. When you’re around. And I thought I could be happy; I thought I could accept the job. That I could deal with you being gone all the time; I could handle a house and the kids as long as you were happy. And that’s what I thought would make you happy; having the job AND a life.”

“It didn’t make me happy. It was my safe place; it was the one thing I knew I wouldn’t fuck up. So that’s what I’d turn to when I felt like I was failing you and the kids. And I’m sorry; that I didn’t tell you all that sooner.”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t totally upfront either. I should have told you back in Colorado; that I didn’t want you doing it anymore. I should have been honest then. But there was so much going on there and my family wouldn’t leave us alone and then we lost the baby and…”

“I just want us to be okay. That’s all I want. I want there to BE an us.”

“And that’s all I want too. To be with you and raise a family with you. But I can’t do this anymore, Tyler. I can’t keep watching you walk out there and spend days and sometimes weeks wondering if I’ll ever see you again. That is my whole heart out there. Going to these shitty goddamn and putting himself and not being able to talk to him for days on end and not knowing if he’s okay. I CAN’T do it. I can’t worry every time you leave that it’s going to be the last time I’ll ever see you. So if you’re just going to go months being okay with giving up the job and then turn around and go right back to it…”

“I’m not,” he assures her. “This is it. I’m done. I’m not going out there anymore. I’m not losing my family. I’m not losing YOU.”

“I want you to be sure. That you’ll be okay with it. That running things behind the scenes will be enough for you. Because I swear to God if you turn to me six months from now and tell me you’re going back, I’m done. For good. Because I deserve better than that. And so do our kids.”

“You’re right, you do.”

“I don’t want to lose you. But if you break my heart like that…”

“I won’t,” he promises. “You can hold me to that, Me. I’m not going to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want. I’m done. For good. It’ll be different now. I’LL be different.”

“I want to believe you. I do. But I’ve heard this all before and look where we are now. This has to be it. It HAS to be. Aren’t you tired of this life? Of having to go after these pieces of shit and put your body and your life on the line? Are you not tired of that?”

“Yeah, I am. And I know my track record for promising you things is pretty shit.”

“Let someone else do the dirty work now. You’ve earned this. You’ve sacrificed yourself for other people...complete strangers...for long enough. If you keep going, your body won’t be able to handle much more. And I know that scares the hell out of you; not being mobile and not being able to do things with your kids.”

“It does,” he admits. “As much as I hate the idea of them ever dating and being interested in guys, I do kinda like the idea of being able to walk my daughters down the aisle.”

“It’s time, Tyler,” she says, voice trembling with emotion. “To walk away. While you still can.”

“Don’t cry, Me. Please don’t cry. I fucking hate when you cry. I especially hate being the reason you cry.”

“I’m just really hormonal tonight,” she laments. “My stomach is getting bigger and the baby is moving more and you’re not here to experience it and it makes me so fucking angry and so fucking sad at the same time.”

“I’m going to need you to calm down, okay? Just breathe, Me. Just breathe.”

“It’s been a long day,” she sniffles. “And I miss you and I love you and I just want you home.”

“Soon,” he assures her. “I’ll be home soon. Get some sleep, alright? You need it. More than I do. You’ve got a little human baking in there. Maybe more than one.”

“You are so determined to win that little bet of ours, aren’t you.”

“I haven’t lost one yet. Not gonna start now. I love you. And I meant what I said. All of it. Things will be different. I’LL be different.”

“I’m going to hold you to it. For the next, I don’t know, fifty years? Sound good?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Sounds damn good.”

*****

Esme awakens to a foot being jammed into her ribs and a forehead colliding with her cheek. Millie fast asleep and snuggled tightly into her; a long, tanned arm slung across her collarbone and that wild, unruly hair tickling her face. Sometime during the night the six year old had quietly and stealthily snuck into the room and climbed into bed with her, but not before fishing one of her dad’s dirty t-shirts out of the laundry her mother had brought home; the item spread neatly across the pillow Millie’s head rests upon. To a die hard daddy’s girl who has had her entire life turned upside down, it’s comforting; his smell clinging to every inch of the dark fabric. 

With her left arm pinned under Millie’s surprisingly heavy body, she has to reach across her body to gently push the wayward strands of hair out of her daughter’s eyes and off of her forehead. She’s breathtakingly beautiful; that perfect and smooth sun kissed skin and those dark, impossibly long eyelashes that skim the tops of her cheeks. At times it’s hard to believe six years had passed; since her husband -unabashed tears of joy and relief so freely streaming down his face- had placed their miracle baby in her arms. A tiny, wrinkled little thing with her daddy’s eyes and nose and ears and his big hands and long fingers. It had been surreal; losing her first chance at being a mother and fully believing she’d never get the opportunity again. She’d given up on men after all; Mark had tarnished every single member of the species as far as she was concerned and she’d never trust anyone with a penis ever again. Things had happened so quickly; a favour for Nik turning into something so much more. Something unplanned and unexpected becoming everything she ever wanted; a man that loved her and was completely devoted and faithful. Not just a husband, but a best friend. Someone she’d survived the craziest and scariest moments of her life with. And suddenly, after never believing it would happen, she WAS a man; that beautiful little girl with her wispy blond hair and her huge blue eyes, snuggling so perfectly into her chest and filling a hole she’d never even known existed until that moment.

It’s been a long and trying day for someone so young, and even in her sleep Millie looks troubled; deep furrows across her brow and her thumb shoved firmly into her mouth. She hasn’t done that in almost a year; since leaving Colorado and embarking on their new life. Trauma used to bring it on: her father’s frequent absences and then coming home with a broken arm or a busted nose or a split lip and black eyes, deeply rooted fears of the ‘bad guys’ permanently taking him away or coming to the house to hurt her entire family. When they’d moved, it all stopped; the thumb sucking, the bad dreams, that clingy, overprotectiveness whenever her dad would even step foot out the front door. He was home for the long haul and Millie was finally settled; no longer fearing that he’d walk out and never come back, or that someone could come in the middle of the night and steal her out of her bed. Australia had been exactly what all of them needed; the ghosts and the demons of the past left thousands of miles away. Everyone seemed happier; more relaxed and content and suddenly loving life and everything and everyone in it. It’s an entirely different pace ‘down under’; no one in rush, the people friendlier and making eye contact on the street and conversations in the stores. Despite some initial issues, the kids thrived; doing well in school and making friends and loving being able to spend so much time near and in the water.

It’s a setback; Millie lying there indulging in her long time ‘comfort’. But Esme doesn’t have the hard to stop her; refusing to be too disappointed or to pluck the six year old’s thumb out of her mouth. If anything, it makes her angry; at Mahajan, at Asif’s people, at Nathan. For nearly destroying her family and putting her children through such anguish and torture; plunging her normally tough and feisty little girl back to the toddler stage. It isn’t fair; her father being kept from her because of the ‘bad guys’. All the injuries and damage done to Tyler; mentally AND physically. 

It will take a while. For them ALL to heal.

She runs the tip of her finger down the bridge of Millie’s nose and then slowly -and repeatedly- traces the edges of each nostril. It always soothed her as a baby; the feathery touch and the methodical pattern. And even now she gives a long, content sigh; lips parting into a slight smile.

“Mommy…” she breathes, eyelashes fluttering.

“It’s okay, sweet pea,” she whispers, and presses a kiss to Millie’s forehead. “I’m right here. You’re okay. Everything’s fine.”

“Daddy’s home?”

“Not yet, baby girl. Soon. I promise. Very soon.”

“Okay…” she gives another long sigh and then nestles her face further into the t-shirt. “...love you, momma.”

“I love you, Amelia,” she nuzzles the tip of her nose against the little one’s brow. “So much. So very, very much.”

It takes mere minutes for the six year old to fall back into a deep sleep; thumb once more firmly planted in her mouth. And Esme watches her as she sleeps; the way those little lips feverishly work around the object placed between them, how both her eyelids and her cheeks twitch as she dreams, how smooth and beautiful her skin is; bathed in the silver streams of moonlight that stream through the bedroom windows. And those little sounds; murmurs and sighs and the occasional brief giggle as happy dreams finally find her. It makes her heart full yet ache at the same time; feeling so much love and pride and almost disbelief that she’d created such an amazing little human, yet hurting for that sweet, innocent creature that’s been robbed of her ‘person’. It will never make sense; how evil people can actually be and how they can ever justify trying to rip a family apart and destroy so many lives in the process.

The return to sleep evades her; not even her daughter’s warm body and soft breathing -mixed with that off the dogs’ at the end of the bed- managing to help her drift off. She’s unsure how long she lies there; staring up at the ceiling and feeling the pins and needles that begin at the shoulder and then quickly spread down her arm and settle in her fingertips. It’s futile; rest won’t find her anytime soon and the risk of tossing and turning and waking in the Millie in the process is not one she wants to risk. Instead she cautiously slips her arm out from underneath the sleeping six year old’s year old body, then slowly and gingerly slides out of bed; both dogs lifting their heads and cocking to them the sides as they watch her curiously.

“Hey…” she whispers, and ruffles the fur behind one’s ears, then the others. “...you guys come up here. Keep the Queen warm and cozy.”

They both move. Mac stretching out along Millie’s back and Saju taking the front; that furry little body pressing itself into Millie’s chest, not even flinching when her arm falls heavily across him. 

Gathering one of her husband’s hoodies from the closet, she shrugs it on as she leaves the room. Softly padding through the darkened hallway and pausing in the doorway of the boys’ rooms; Tanner and TJ snuggled tightly together in the bottom bunk with their foreheads and their noses touching, Declan in his usual place in the middle of his bedroom floor. She tends to the latter; leaving him where he is but covering him with the blanket from his bed and carefully lifting his head and placing his pillow underneath it. He’s an odd but adorable duck; the red hair that continues to brighten and those chubby cheeks and mischievous gray eyes and his playful and sometimes ornery personality. Six months away from turning three; talkative and affectionate yet possessing a penchant for causing trouble and never shying away from sibling induced drama. He was SUPPOSED to be the last; they’d decided before he was born that four was a nice, even number and ‘no one in their right mind would want more than THAT in this day and age’.

That train of thought didn’t last very long.

She makes herself a peppermint tea to calm her queasy, unsettled stomach and then sits out on the back patio; legs stretched out and her feet propped in a chair, enjoying the sound of the ocean and the smell of salt that lingers in the air. It’s peaceful; the moonlight glistening on the water, the deck illuminated solely by the moon and the strings of white Christmas lights strings around banisters and stretched across railings. But it’s lonely at the same time; something she’s never, ever felt until now. It makes her miss even more. the nights they’d sit outside talking while the kids were in bed; those strong, calloused hands massaging her feet as they rested in his lap. It was their alone time outside of sex; a chance to just enjoy each other’s company and connect as both a couple AND friends; instead of just as spouses and parents. And her heart hurts; mourning someone that is very much alive but has been changed so drastically and will never be the same again.

The sound of the screen door sliding open captures her attention, and she tilts her head, smiling as Riley steps out onto the deck.

“Can’t sleep?” The redhead asks, as she gathers the edges of her housecoat and pulls the garment tightly around her.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. I would have thought Declan wore you right out; he’s a handful.”

“He’s an angel.”

Esme gives a derisive snort and sips her tea. “So was Lucifer.”

“I for one think he’s an absolute delight. That little giggle of his? That squeal he does when he’s excited? And don’t even get me started about those chubby little cheeks and those sloppy kisses he gives. Besides, us gingers have to stick together if we truly want to take over the world. You okay?” She pauses at the back of Esme’s chair, squeezing her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Shouldn’t you be asleep? Baking that little bun in the oven?”

“The little bun is what’s keeping me up, I think. Insomnia like you wouldn’t believe. And nauseous. So freaking nauseous.”

“You know, this could have all been avoided had someone taught Tyler the pull out method,” Riley teases, then tousles her sister’s hair before taking a seat across from her. “And you can’t fool me, MeMe. You being up has nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with the fact that you can’t shut that brain of yours off. You’re worried about him.”

She smirks. “That obvious, huh”

“I don’t blame you. I would be too. If I loved someone THAT much, I’d be worried sick. All the damn time. What’s going on? There been a setback or…?”

“Not physically. Physically he’s doing good. Better than good, actually. He’s way further ahead than anyone thought he’d be after only a month.”

“Well he’s a tough shit that’s for sure. Not to mention stubborn as all hell. I’m not surprised, you know. That he IS so far ahead. I’d expect nothing less from my favorite brother in law.”

Esme grins. “He’s your ONLY brother in law.”

“You seem to forget that I remember dick for brains very well.”

“You were a kid; when I was with Mark.”

“Yeah, but I was a smart kid. Who knew he was a complete asshole and that you could do so much better. He didn’t deserve you. And you sure as hell didn’t deserve what he put you through. How the hell he ever got away with what he did, I’ll never know. How do you have five older brothers and not one of them take him out?”

“They’re your brothers too,” she points.

“Like hell they are. You’re the only sibling I have. You’re the only sane, normal one.”

“You know how bad they are when you’re calling ME sane and normal. And Mark was...a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.”

“Well now he’s in hell where he belongs. And you’ve traded up. Big time.”

“Yeah…” she smiles, and runs the palms of her hands along the sides of her mug. “...I sure did.”

“I mean, you’ve got the life you’ve always wanted. You’ve got this man who adores you and worships the goddamn you walk on, you’ve got five amazing, beautiful kids and another one...or two...on the way…”

“Has Tyler gotten to you? He has, hasn’t he. You’re talking like him now; the whole multiples thing.”

“Great minds, think alike, right? You’ve got it all, MeMe. Someone that loves you to the ends of the earth and beyond, you’re a mom, you’ve got this great house and you’re in this incredible country with this insane property and this epic fucking view. So what’s up? Why you looking like someone kicked your puppy?”

“It’s just been a long month,” she reasons. “A very long month. And I miss my husband. Which sounds weird and maybe even pathetic, because I see him every day and it’s not like he’s dead and he’s never coming home.”

“You love him. More than you ever thought you’d love someone. After Mark and his bullshit, you never thought this would happen. That TYLER would happen. Of course you’re having a rough time. I’d be wondering what the hell is wrong with you if you weren’t. But you know he’s doing okay. Physically, speaking. So what’s up?”

“Riley, I love you. And it’s because I love you that I’m saying this: you do not need to shoulder my issues.”

“Too late. I already took some of it on. You’re my SISTER. My ONLY sibling. I’m here willingly, remember? And I will be here as long as you need to be. Don’t even stress over anything else; schooling, placement, any of that. I can stay, you know. I can apply to be an international student, I can have my credits transferred and find work here…”

“That is asking way too much.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And you don’t get a say in it. Now what’s up? Talk to me. Quit holding all this shit inside. Don’t be Tyler.”

Esme can’t help but laugh. “You really DO know him well.”

“I know he’s thick headed and needs a foot up his ass sometimes. What’s going on, MeMe? Tell me. Talk to me.”

Sighing heavily, she takes a swig of her tea and then rakes a hand through her hair; moving the dark tresses off her shoulders and away from the nape of her neck and letting them tumble over the back of the chair. “We had our first session today. With the shrink.”

“And let me guess; Tyler totally shut down and the shrink got nothing out of him.”

“Actually, Tyler stepped it up and spoke. Openly. Which was a shock, to the say least. I’m so used to him fighting tooth and nail about the whole ‘talking to a stranger about feelings and shit’. And he just blew me away. He was so honest and raw and...wow. Just wow.”

“Must be some good meds they got him on if they can get him to act like that,” Riley teases. “So what’s the problem? It’s what you wanted, right? Him to open up? Talk about shit?”

“It was. That’s exactly what I wanted. And I’m so proud of him for willingly opening himself up like that. This isn’t about him. Not entirely, anyway.”

“Okay…”

“I lost it. Just totally snapped. About Mark and about the job and how I thought I could live with it; how I thought I could deal with him being gone all the time as long as HE was happy. I had convinced myself of that. I could be a mercenary’s wife. I could stay home and take care of a house and raise kids as long as my husband was happy. And that’s what I thought would make him happy. The job.”

“I could have told you a long time ago that it wasn’t THAT making him happy. That he was using it as a crutch. I also thought you should have called him on his shit when the twins were born and Tanner had all his issues and he STILL didn’t give it up. I could have fucking killed him for doing that; for choosing that fucking life over being home with his wife and three kids. Especially having a baby THAT sick.”

“I mean, he tried justifying it. And it seemed reasonable at the time; he thought it was the only way for him to make a living and keep the bills paid and a roof over our heads and food on the table.”

“Which was bullshit. There’s a lot of things he could do. The job is a safety net for him. The one thing he knows he’s good at and won’t fuck up.”

“You’re good, you know that? Because THAT’S exactly what he admitted. That he went back and kept going back because he was scared of being a failure at home. And I’ve never, ever, put that in his head. He’s a great husband and an amazing father.”

“When he’s around,” Riley points out.

Esme nods. “So I finally just snapped and I told him I couldn’t live like this any longer. That I couldn’t do it anymore; worry every time he walks out the door that I’m never going to see him again. I told him I deserved better. And so do our kids.”

“Please tell me he didn’t ask for a divorce. Or I WILL kill him.”

“What?” she laughs. “No. He didn’t ask for a divorce. He agreed with me. He promised to give it up. For good. And I could tell he meant, Ry. I know he’s promised it before, but this time I could TELL he was being truthful. I scared him; I put a legit fear in his brain and he knew I wasn’t fucking around. And I told him that if he turned around six months and went back and broke my heart, I’d be gone. I’d take the kids and I’d leave. Because I am NOT living like that.”

“To play devil’s advocate, you knew what you were getting into when you hooked up with him. You knew he was a mercenary.”

“I didn’t think he’d be one forever,” Esme argues. “I thought he’d quit. That he’d find something else. He’s not a stupid man; he’s not stuck in this life. I gave him what he wanted; HE wanted to get married and be a family. I would have been more than happy to be the happily unmarried couple living in sin and having a couple kids. But HE wanted more. And I gave him that. A wife and a stable home and normal life and five fucking kids. Why wasn’t any of that enough? You would have thought he'd be happy with all of that and just give the job up.”

“Safety net, like I said.”

“Anyway, we kissed and made up and he agreed to never go back. Just run things behind the scenes. And I believe him. He’s telling the truth. It’ll stick this time.”

“So what’s the issue? If you two patched things up, why the long face? Why are you out here at one in the morning? What is going on?”

“When I was leaving the hospital, the shrink caught up to me. To give his ‘working diagnosis’.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t? That he’s on top of things?”

“It’s what he said, Ry. I’m having a really hard time accepting it and wrapping my head around it. I’ve spent seven years being able to help him. Being able to fix things for him. And there’s no fixing this. There’s just dealing with it and managing it and that’s it. And my heart is broken…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...because I love him and I can’t do anything to help him. It’s just so final and so serious and I just…” she takes a deep, shaky breath. “...I feel so lost and scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“What did he say? Tell me.”

“He says it’s bipolar two AND C-PTSD.”

Riley sighs heavily and nods slowly.

“I mean I knew it was bad. I EXPECTED something. But not that. I didn’t think it would be something THAT bad. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him. If I even CAN help him. But he’s not Tyler anymore. I mean, he IS. He’ll always be Tyler. MY Tyler. But he’s not at the same time. He never will be. I can’t fix this, Riley. I can’t fix HIM.”

“I am so sorry, MeMe. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I’m scared. I’m scared of everything it entails. The doctor gave me all this information on it and I read some of it and then I had to stop. I couldn’t even continue. It made me sick to my stomach; the thought of him being what they were saying.”

“First of all, this is a hell of a blow and your fears and your feelings are valid. So please don’t think they aren’t. This is a fucking shit show you’re in the middle of. And I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this. But there’s treatment; there's therapies and there’s meds and there’s support groups for him AND you. And when your head clears a bit, you’ll be able to accept and cope and you’ll go on with your life. WITH him. This isn’t a death sentence, Esme. He’s alive and he’s coming home and it could be so much worse. He could have died. And I’m sure you’d much rather him like this, than him not around at all.”

“Of course I would. I would never survive if I lost him. I mean, physically I’d manage. I’d have to; for my kids. But mentally? I’d be a shell. There’d be nothing left of me. Of course I’m happy he’s alive and of course I’d rather him here...the way he is...than not here at all. And I love him; with everything I have and everything I am. This isn't about NOT loving him. It’s about being scared. I’m terrified. Of who he might turn into.”

“I know there’s a chance of over the top aggression, violent outbursts. But there’s no guarantee that will happen. He has no history of being that way; not even when he was at his worst and drunk the majority of the time and hopped up on pain meds. Not even when he tried to kill himself. TWICE. He wasn’t violent then, was he?”

“No. The worst he ever did was punch holes in walls and rip doors off hinges.”

Riley cringes. “Well, THAT’S bad enough.”

“Tyler would never, EVER, hurt me. He punishes himself; not other people. I trust him. With my life. With my children’s lives. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I’m going to ask you something, and you have to believe me that I am not asking you this to hurt you. Or cause problems between us. I’m asking because you’re my sister and I love you and those are my nieces and nephews inside and I adore them like you wouldn’t believe. I worry about ALL of you. Even Tyler. So please don’t think I’m trying to hurt you.”

“I’d never think that, Ry. I know you’re heart. I mean, I know you’re a huge bitch at the best of times…”

“I learned from my older sister, what do you expect? Are you sure you’re okay with me asking what I’m about to ask?”

“Have you met my husband? Have you heard the things that come out of his mouth? Nothing could offend me.”

“You know I love Tyler. You know I think he’s an awesome guy and that he’s the best thing that ever happened to you. And I know how much he loves you and worships you and…”

“Riley, just ask. It’s fine.”

“Given his temper and his background in the military and the whole being a mercenary thing and able to kill someone with his bare hands about a hundred different ways…”

“Riley, spit it out. Just tear the bandaid off.”

“Has he ever hit you? Or come close? Whether he was drunk or on pain meds or totally sober? Has he ever smacked you around or punched you or anything like that?”

“You know how big and strong he is. If he punched me, he’d probably kill me.”

“Okay, so slapped or pushed or..?”

“He has never laid a finger on me. He’s never even raised a hand to me. He’s never even threatened to do any of that.”

“Not even drunk out of his mind or fucked up on pain meds or…?”

“NEVER. Tyler has never hurt me or even threatened to. He wouldn’t do it. He doesn’t have it in him. Not even at his worst. I mean, he’s grabbed me when we’ve been arguing and I’ve tried to walk away and he wanted to get me to listen to him.”

“Okay, THAT in itself is a bit troublesome, MeMe.”

“Not enough to hurt me or bruise me or anything like that. He hasn’t done it maliciously. Tyler is NOT a violent person, Riley.”

“His job says differently.”

“He doesn’t do the things he does because he wants to or because he enjoys doing them. He does them because he HAS to. Because it’s their life, or his. And he chooses to come home to his family. Tyler is not a violent man. Not in his personal life. He is a different person when he’s home. And he would never, EVER, put his hands on me.”

“You’ve never been scared of him? Not once?”

“He’s never given me a reason to be scared of him. He’s not a monster, Riley. He made damn sure he never turned into one. And give me some credit; I’d fucking drop him if he ever touched me like that. And then I’d take my kids and leave and he’d never find us.”

“I just want you to be safe. Because with these illnesses, these things CAN happen. You need a plan, Esme. You need to be proactive and come up with something in case it does happen. If he does snap and goes off the deep end and comes after you or the kids…”’

“He would NEVER do that.”

“The Tyler you know now wouldn’t. But if he’s not in his right mind and he’s going through some shit and he gets aggressive and mean and lashes out? You HAVE to think about that. No matter how bad it hurts. It doesn’t mean you love him any less because you consider this. And I’ll help you, okay? I’ll help you come up with something. To protect you and the kids.”

“I don’t even want to think about that; him being that way. Or turning into that. It hurts; thinking he might do something like that. And I feel like a shit wife for even considering it.”

“It’s just better to be safe than sorry, okay?” Riley reaches across the table and takes her sister’s hand in hers; squeezing tightly. “Love can’t fix everything, MeMe. It just can’t. No matter how much we want it to.”


	106. Chapter 106

She prepares the kids during the hour drive to Cape Tribulation. The things they may see or hear in a hospital environment; the hustle and bustle of doctors and nurses, the combined smells of antiseptic, cleaning solution, and various medications, the beeping of machines, people with tubes and wires placed in their bodies. They have very little exposure to that kind of world; their experiences based on trips to the ER (mostly for TJ) or visiting their mother and brand new sibling. And they’ve never seen their father so vulnerable; black eyes and cuts held together by crude and raggedy stitches and a broken forearm the worst they’ve ever seen him suffer. While he’s in much better shape than he was at the beginning of the ordeal , his appearance will still be unsettling to them; still fresh and fairly thick and jagged scars over and under his right eye (the latter stretching all the way to his temple), the metal cage on his leg with the long, thick screws that penetrate his skin and go straight to the healing bone, the weight and muscle he’s lost. None of the older children like change; even the absence of his beard will no doubt be somewhat of a bone of contention for them. They’re used to their daddy looking a certain way and being in phenomenal shape; strong and broad and muscly and active and completely hands on. But it will likely be Tanner that will have the hardest time; he struggles tremendously with any upset to routine and familiarity. Needing a lot of time and preparation leading up to a change of task or environment; wanting and craving very detailed explanations for what is going to happen and what he’s going to encounter when it DOES happen. 

They handle it well; appearing slightly nervous and perhaps a little worried and afraid, but asking questions to put their little minds at ease. It’s been a long month; whisked off to India under the pretense of a ‘family vacation’, taken back home without either of their parents or an explanation as to what caused their hasty retreat from Mumbai. Being back in Australia should have made things easier on them; their own home and familiar surroundings, their own beds to sleep in. But not knowing their father’s exact whereabouts and being separated from him under such mysterious circumstances had only made things worse; a six year old two five year olds with anxiety issues and situational depression and a mother that was physically present, but mentally absent. It would have been a hard time for most adults to deal with, let alone innocent and precocious children. Little ones who’d just gotten through the most glorious six months of their lives; a new home in a new country and their daddy home full time and no fear of him running off to ‘fight bad guys’. It’s unfair to them; to have their lives turned upside down and ripped apart. 

Eight more days, Esme reminds herself, as she ushers the kids through the front entrance of the hospital. They’ve all been on their best behaviour since picking the twins up early at school; no fighting in the car over someone infringing on another’s ‘arm or leg space’, no arguments over what movie to have playing on the onboard DVD player, no smart ass comments or picking on each other over the smallest and most ridiculous of things. Tanner -sitting between Addie and Declan- alternating between quietly reading a book and making funny faces and voices to entertaining his younger siblings. TJ and Millie actually co-existing; the sides of their heads touching as they watched YouTube on the latter’s tablet. It was paradise for that entire sixty minutes; almost complete silence after her initial talk with them. A rare snippet of time where the feral little beasts were all content and living harmoniously. In just over a week things will start to go back to normal. Or a new version of normal, at least. Their lives will still be altered and somewhat difficult; Tyler on the long and arduous -and most likely very painful- road to recovery as far as physical issues go. There’s no repairing the mental damage done; learning to accept and cope and how to both treat and manage are the only options. His body will heal and get back to almost normal within a year to a year and a half’s time. His brain will continue to need nourishment by the way of therapies and medications for the rest of his life.

The kids insist on popping into the gift store; the three oldest combining their weekly allowances to buy ‘goodies’ and a stuffed kangaroo for daddy. They ARE good kids; despite their often enormous differences and the arguing and brawling. Each has an enormous heart; possessing a stunning amount of compassion and empathy and loving so deeply and profoundly. TJ has the hardest time channeling all those emotions; unable to verbally express them and keeping it all bottled up inside until something or someone sets him off and he snaps. Millie had learned the hard way the day before; her older brother fiercely protective of his twin and never afraid to stand up for him, regardless of who the bully is. He never shies away from sticking up for what is right; never worried about how people will view or what they’ll say or whatever negative consequences will come his way. He’s the most like his father; physically and emotionally speaking. From those long limbs and torso and beautifully tanned skin, to the body language and multitude of facial expressions and the ‘talkative eyes’. Like his father, he always keeps a lot buried deep down; fears, worries, feelings that often seem way too powerful and overwhelming. And the result of doing so is often negative. 

She gives them each ten dollars to go back into the store and spend on themselves; those blue eyes sparkling and their smiles enormous and their giggles contagious when they come running out less than five minutes later. Over the moon about the bags of treats they were able to buy; small stuffed animals and candy bars and comic books for Millie and TJ and a new softcover novel for Tanner. 

She sees the way other people watch them; smiling at the gaggle of excited yet well behaved children. Usually it’s negative looks she encounters; whispers about why someone would have that many kids in this day and age and nosy comments like ‘I wonder if they’re all from the same father’. It’s a mixture of things that prompt THAT. Perhaps she looks far too young and her body still in relatively good shape and strangers can’t believe she could possibly have THAT many babies. And while all five do have certain features that make it very obvious they’re siblings, their hair colours tell a different story; a brunette, a very vibrant red head, and three dirty blonds. Today the stares and comments are positive and accompanied by friendly smiles. The kids are at their polite and charming best; Millie in her frilly pink dress and her well worn Spiderman sandals and ribbons in her braided pigtails, the twins in matching olive green cargo shorts and black polo shirts. It’s hit or miss with them; going weeks with wanting to look identical and then insisting they wear everything different right down to their underwear. But today they’re extra adorable; their matching wardrobe and haircuts, holding hands and quietly conversing and giggling in unison. 

It’s four in the afternoon and she’s already exhausted; an entire morning spent on her knees in front of the toilet while Millie alternated between holding her hair back for her and fetching her glasses of water and plates of plain crackers. It’s a side of her daughter she’s never really seen; aside from enjoying feeling an unborn sibling squirm and kick and sometimes talking to them, Millie has remained fairly apathetic through the whole process. So the ‘mother hen’ approach was a nice change; those little hands rubbing her back or stroking her cheeks before pulling her hair back or placing wet rags against her brow or the back of her neck. That sweet little voice calm and gentle. “Don’t worry, mommy. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Once Millie was out of the baby stage, the bond they had once had seemed to weaken over time; the little girl utterly and completely devoted to daddy from the moment she could pick and choose which parent she preferred to spend all her time with. 

As silly as it seemed at the time, it had hurt; her first born -a daughter, at that- not viewing her with nearly the same adoration; not needing mommy and her love and care in the same way that she needed daddy. Her own tattered and toxic relationship with her own mother had always fuelled the dream of having a strong and solid relationship with her own children, and it was disheartening when her very first one -after wanting a baby for so long and truly believe she’d never had one- didn’t seem to even value her presence in her life. And while it’s gotten better over the past year since the move back to Australia, things often feel strained between her and Millie; very rarely seeing eye to eye and the latter always feeling -and often expressing it- jealous that her mother gets more attention from daddy than she does. It’s mommy that gets ‘the blame’ for all the additional siblings that have come along over the years. And while she hadn’t even been a year old when her twin brothers were born, Millie always insists she was much happy before they ever came along.

Today the six year old is helpful and possesses the patience of a saint; keeping a stroller refusing Declan -who isn’t afraid of hugging a stranger or climbing in their lap- from running off and socializing with anyone that so much smiles in his direction. He’s a tall, solid, and extremely strong kid; zero impulse control, awareness of his own prowess, and much bigger than any of his siblings had been at that age. And while almost impossible for Esme to pick up ESPECIALLY while pregnant, he always listens to Millie; that calm and quiet yet ultimately stern voice she adopts. She’s not afraid to get physical with him; able to hoist him up or drag him off or to chase him down and tackle him. On this day, he’s relatively easy to deal with; paying attention and obeying when chastised or told to do something. Likely scared his older sister WILL get handsy with him if need be.

She herds the five into the elevator; pushing Addie in the stroller while Millie has complete control of the often mischievous and unruly red head, and the twins hold hands. Tanner is a nervous wreck; not liking the small confines and the feeling of being ‘crammed in’. There’s only two other passengers; an elderly couple on the other side. But to the sensitive and often overwhelmed and skittish five year old, it might as well be a hundred people.

“It’s okay Tanny,” TJ assures him, and drops his brother’s hand in favour of pulling him into a hug; an arm around Tanner’s waist and a hand on the back of his head. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. It’ll be over soon.”

“You’re a very good big brother,” the man praises, a friendly smile curving his lips. 

“Tanny gets scared easily,” TJ explains, fingers lightly combing through his twin’s hair. “It’s my job to protect him. ‘Cause I’m older.”

“You’re only older by six minutes,” Millie reminds him.

“It doesn’t matter how many minutes, I’m STILL older. So I have to protect him. He’s smaller because he was sick when we were in mommy’s tummy,” TJ explains to the older couple. “Because I was taking all the food for myself and he wasn’t getting enough. So when he was born, he had to be in the special nursery and have doctors and nurses take care of him. He didn’t get to come home for a long time. Right, mom?”

“Right,” she confirms, and runs a hand over his hair. “But not everyone needs to know our business.”

“I’m just explaining why we look the same in the face but not the body. I didn’t mean to take all the food. I didn’t know what I was doing. I wouldn’t have done it if I did. He’s my brother. Why would I hurt him like that?”

“Tyler, shhh. I’m sure these nice people don’t want to know every little detail. Shhh.”

“We were the first boys after daddy lost his first one. So it was extra special when we came along. Mommy says daddy really cried when he got to hold us.”

“Sorry,” Esme gives a sheepish smile. “He’s very social. He loves to meet people. And tell them his life story.”

“We’re here to see daddy,” TJ continues. “He got hurt at work.”

“The bad guys hurt him,” Millie adds. “Really, REALLY bad.”

“Okay, guys, that’s not something you need to tell everyone, alright? That’s enough.”

“He kills people,” TJ says. “Bad people. When he has to. To protect good people. Isn’t that awesome?”

“Tyler James…” Esme lightly and briefly places a hand over his mouth. “...enough, please.”

“How come you’re here?” he inquires. “Someone you love got hurt?”

“Our granddaughter had a baby,” the man replies. “So now I’m a great, great grandpa.”

“You’re so lucky! Babies are awesome! It’s going to be a long time before my mom and dad are grandparents. Mommy’s having another baby. Look…” he removes his hand from atop Tanner’s head, then gathers up the fabric of Esme’s t-shirt and pulls it tight, drawing attention to her ever growing bump. “...another little bean!”

“Excuse me,” she frowns down at him, and gently nudges his hand away with her elbow. “Do you mind, young sir?”

“Daddy says there’s more than one in there. Imagine if it’s twins again? Or triplets? That would be so awesome. Three at once!”

“For you maybe,” Esme grins. “Not for me.”

The woman drops her chin and regards each child through narrowed eyes. “They’re ALL yours?”

“Every last one. Except this one…” she lays a hand on top of TJ’s head. “...may be up for adoption soon. So if you know any good homes…”

“All have the SAME father?”

“That’s rude!” Millie pipes up. “That's not a nice thing to ask. At all.”

“Amelia,” Esme addresses her. “It’s alright. Settle.”

“It’s not alright, mommy. That’s a rude question! She’s saying you got lots of babies from different guys. That’s not a nice thing to say. And even if it IS true, what does it matter? You can have as many babies with as many guys as you want. I mean, if daddy wasn’t around.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t meant to be rude. Calm down, okay? Not everything's meant to be offensive.”

“Of course we all have the same daddy!” the six year old continues. “We all look the same! Declan’s got red hair, but he still looks just like daddy and he still looks like our brother. We all look like daddy.”

“Addie doesn’t,” TJ says. “She looks like mommy. Just like her.”

“But she still has the SAME daddy as us. Daddy and mommy are married. Why would mom have babies with someone else other than daddy? That makes no sense.”

“What if daddy can’t have babies and mommy still wants some? She has to have them with someone else?”

“They’d ADOPT, TJ. Mommy’s not going to have sex with another guy. Just with daddy. And daddy would never, EVER, let her have sex with another guy.”

“Oh my God…” Esme feels the ferocity of the blush that creeps into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “...guys...please!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” TJ says. “What ARE you talking about?”

“It’s how babies are made, dummy. Mommies and daddies have sex.”

“No it’s not,” TJ argues. “They sleep in the same bed and it just happens.”

“It’s not magic Tyler,” Millie huffs. “A baby just doesn’t show up in mommy’s tummy. Daddy has to put the baby IN there.”

“How though? How does he get it in there?”

“None of your business,” Esme says to him, then silences Millie by placing a finger against her lips. “Enough. Neither of you need to talk about this stuff, let alone know about it. The baby is in there. It happened. Who cares how?”

“How long does it take?” TJ inquires. “For daddy to put the baby in your tummy?”

“I bet it takes a long time,” Tanner speaks up. “I mean, you’re making a human, right? That’s got to take time. It can’t just happen right away.”

“You guys need to stop,” Esme gently orders, then heaves a sigh of relief when the elevator comes to a shuddering stop at their floor and then doors slides open. “I am so sorry,” she apologizes, as she herds the kids off and follows closely behind. “They like to talk.”

“I still think you were really damn rude,” Millie informs the older woman, then gives a sarcastic wave before the elevator doors close.

****

“Now…” she pauses at the entrance to the ward. “...listen to me. All of you. Same rules, okay? No yelling, no fighting, no running in the halls, no bad language. Got it?”

Three little heads nod in unison.

“This is a hospital. You do NOT act feral here, understand? People are sick and trying to get better and they do not need to hear and see you guys acting up. And it will make daddy feel a lot better if you behave. That’s what we want, right? For daddy to feel better?”

“I just want him to come home,” Tanner says. “Can he come home with us? When we leave Sunday?”

“He has to stay. Until he gets his shoulder looked at. Two days after that, he can come home. No sooner.”

“Can WE stay here?” TJ asks. “So we can see him every day until he comes home?”

“It doesn’t work that way, baby-man. He wants you guys going to school and doing normal kid things.”

“But nothing’s normal about this though,” Millie gripes. “Nothing’s normal when daddy isn’t home.”

“Well as normal as possible, okay?” She straightens the twins’ collars and smooths down the front of their shirts, then tightens the ribbons in Millie’s hair. “I know how hard this has been on you guys. It’s been no picnic for me either, and it’s definitely been hard on daddy. But it’s almost over, I promise. Do you remember what I said? About how you have to be careful? No jumping on the bed, no jumping on daddy, be careful of his leg and his right arm. Can you guys do that?”

“We can hug him and stuff though, right?” TJ asks. 

“You can hug him as much as you want. Just you have to be careful. Daddy got hurt pretty bad and he’s still trying to get better. And he needs you guys to help with that, alright? He’s not daddy like you remember daddy. He can’t do the things he used to. Not right now. So you have to be careful. Please.” She presses kisses to cheeks and smooths down hair, then leads the way through the sliding doors. 

“Hey guys!” Shaena hurries around the side of the nurse’s station to greet them. “I finally get to meet the entire tribe. Your mom and dad talk about you constantly!” She crouches down to their level. “You’re obviously Amelia; even prettier than your daddy goes on and on about. I hear you’re quite the surfer.”

“It’s one of my favourite things EVER. Daddy used to put me in the baby snuggy and take me with him. Before we moved away from here. Then he started teaching me when we moved back. It’s awesome; we live right at the beach. How perfect can it get? Are you daddy’s nurse?”

“I am. I’ve been looking after him since he got here. He’s my favourite patient.”

Millie wraps both arms around the nurse’s neck and squeezes tightly. “Thank you! For taking care of daddy and helping him get better so he can come home to us. We miss him. A lot.”

“You’re so very welcome, kiddo. I know how important he is to you guys. I also know how important YOU are to HIM. And how much he’s missed all of you so much. And you’re all so damn cute!” She reaches out and pushes wayward strands of hair off of each twins’ foreheads. “ Ooops. Bad language.”

“That’s nothing,” TJ says. “We say a lot worse all the time. Like the S word and the F word. Daddy has no chill. He says whatever he wants and we learn it from him.”

“And they know better,” Esme pipes up. “Right, guys? No bad language. First impressions, remember? They’re important.”

“Your mommy and daddy sure have good genes to mix together. You’re all insanely good looking. And I know you’re TJ and I know you’re Tanner. Your daddy talks about you two all the time. He’s going to love those matching hair cuts. So stinking handsome!” She runs a hand over their dirty blond tresses and then stands up and lightly embraces Esme. “How are you doing momma? How’s the newest bun in the oven?”

“Getting bigger every day. I feel fat and gross already. Is it a good day? Please tell me it’s been a good day.”

“Little touch and go this morning with some of the new meds causing issues, but things got better. He’s fine now. Looking forward to seeing you guys, that’s for sure. If you need anything, let me know. Even if it’s to take some of the little ones for a bit so YOU can have a break.”

“I haven’t had one of those in six years. And God knows when the next one will come.”

“Mommy's having ANOTHER baby,” Millie laments. “Isn’t five enough?”

“Well considering how adorable all of you are, I say your mom and dad should go ahead and keep on repopulating the world,” Shaena grins. “Be a shame not to use those genes for the greater good.”

“As much as I want to add to the greater good of the world, this is it,” Esme says. “Last one. Or two. That’s it.”

“There could be three,” TJ says. “You never know, mum.”

“Your dad is good, but he’s not THAT good. One or two is enough, thank you. When you get married, you can try and convince your wife to have tons of babies. I am done.”

“Are you crazy? I’m never getting married. I won’t be able to settle for just ONE girl.”

“He’s going to have a harem,” Esme addresses the nurse. “A month ago, girls were gross. Now he can’t decide who in his class is his girlfriend.”

“All of them,” TJ grins proudly. “Every last one.”

“See what I mean? He’s a little man whore already. The apple does not fall far from the tree.”

“Daddy had a lot of girlfriends before he met mommy,” TJ explains. “But not girlfriends you date. Girlfriends you just have fun with. If you know what I mean.”

“YOU don’t even know what you mean,” his mother retorts. 

“I know that daddy fell in love with you and all of the other girls don’t matter anymore. That the only girl that matters is you. I’m never falling into THAT trap.”

“You know what? You will. One day, you will meet the one. You’re five. You shouldn’t even be talking about girls. Can you at least wait until you’re double digits?”

“I can’t help if the ladies like me, mom. I’m irresistible.”

“You’re a little shit is what you are. See what I put up with, Shaena? See? Chips off the old block, am I right?”

“You’ve got your hands full, that’s for sure. But they are damn cute. Did Doctor Klein talk to you?”

Esme nods. She’d been desperately hoping she wouldn’t have to talk about THAT. Certain that the doctor’s working theory -and the stress, worry, and fear it has brought along with it- is responsible for the extreme bout of nausea and dizziness that morning. And the increase in cramping and other problems that have arisen. It’s what led to issues before; hyper-fixating and excessive -and almost obsessive- dwelling on things. And it had been the one number one suspected culprit for both miscarriages she’d suffered. 

“I’ve got some resources for you. People that can help. This isn’t something you have to face alone, okay? It’s scary and it’s overwhelming. Don’t go through this by yourself.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now. Not with the kids here. This is supposed to be a happy day for them; they don’t need to hear any of this. But I’ll find you. Before we leave. I asked the doctor not to say anything to Tyler when he’s alone. To hold off until our next appointment. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him or bring it up in any way. He’s got enough going on; he doesn’t need this on top of it. And I’d rather him not be alone when he’s told.”

“Totally understandable. This a new, scary world. There’s people to help you get used to it. And you will; get used to it. I promise. Now…” she lays her hands on the top of the twins’ heads. “...you guys ready? To see daddy? I know he’s ready to see you. Been talking about it for days! I know how much he’s missed you all. Follow me; let’s give mommy a hand. I’m sure even super moms need one from time to time.”

“I’m hardly a super mom,” Esme says. “A mediocre one, at best.”

Shaena smiles. “Something tells me your kids and your husband would beg to differ.”

*****

“Daddy!” Millie is the first through the door, dropping Declan’s hand as she rushes into the room, forgetting the bulk of her mother’s advice as she scrambles up onto the bed. Planting herself between Tyler’s splayed thighs and throws her arms around his neck; her entire body violently shaking against his with the ferocity of her sobs. “Daddy...I missed you....I missed you so much!”

He slips his right arm out of the confines of the sling in order to properly hold and comfort her; one arm wrapped tightly around her waist and a hand on the top of her head; fingers buried in her hair, lips pressed to her temple. He somehow manages to hold back his own tears; a tremendous weight being lifted off his shoulders at the familiar weight of that little body pressed against his and the smell that clings to her hair and clothes. “I missed you too, baby girl,” he briefly closed his eyes, fingers gently kneading her scalp. “You have no idea how much.”

“I thought we’d never get to see you! That it would be forever until we got to visit! Why couldn’t we come sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to see me when I looked worse. Things were really, really bad and I didn’t want any of you to deal with it. I did it to protect you. You believe me, right?”

“I believe you,” Millie sniffles, and tightens her hold on his neck. “I’m just a little mad at you, though. Because you didn’t want us to see sooner.”

“I DID want to see you. I wanted to see you every day since this happened. It just wasn’t a good idea. Everything I do...every decision I make...is for you and your brothers and your sister. Because I love you guys so much. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I’d never do that. I love you way too much.”

“I love you, daddy. I missed you. I just want you to come home.”

“I love you too. And I missed you. So much. And soon, I promise. Just a little more than a week and I’ll be home. And then I don’t have to go away ever again.”

“You really promise this time? For real, real?”

“For real, real. No more going away. I’m not going to do that anymore. It’s time for other people to fight the bad guys. I just want to stay home with you guys. And your momma. That’s all that matters to me; all of you.”

“So you’ll be home all the time? You’ll never go away again?”

“All the time. Well, unless your mom gets tired of me being around,” he shoots his wife a playful wink as she ushers Tanner and Declan into the room and parks the stroller by the window. “She might kick me out because I’m getting on her nerves.” 

“Like that’s going to happen,” Esme says, and helps Declan climb up onto the bed; a hand on his back as he crawls his way across the mattress. “Hi, by the way,” she combs her fingers through the longer strands of her on the top of Tyler’s hair and presses a kiss to his lips. “I heard you’ve had a good day.”

“It’s even better now.” He shifts Millie onto his good thigh, one arm wrapped around her as the other curls around Declan. “Hey, mate. Long time no see.”

“Daddy!” The toddler squeals in response, and presses a sloppy, noisy kiss to his father’s cheek. “Miss daddy.”

“I missed you too. I missed you so much. You’re getting big. Way bigger than the last time I saw you. And the hair…” he moves his hand from Declan’s back to the top of his hair. “...look how bright it is! You’re looking more like the cable man every day.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Esme inquires, and casts a glance out into the hallway, frowning at the sight of TJ lingering in the hall; his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes downcast; repeatedly brushing the toe of his one sneaker against the polished tile. 

“Is he alright?”

“He looks a little scared. And that’s not like TJ.”

“Give him a few minutes. He’ll come around.”

“What did you do to your face?” Millie inquires, and holds his dad’s cheeks in her hands.

“I bumped my head and got cut pretty bad. Two new scars to add to the collection.”

“Not THAT. I mean this…” she rubs her palms along his cheeks. “...why would you do that?”

“Just to do something different. Why? You don’t like it?”

“You don’t look like daddy now. You look like a stranger. Daddy ALWAYS has a beard.”

“I didn’t have one right after you were born. I shaved it off then, too.”

“I don’t remember that though. I just remember you with one. You look...weird.”

“Weird in an ugly way or…?”

“No. You’re not ugly. Just weird as in different. You’re not going to keep it like that are you? You’ll grow it back, right?”

“Maybe. We’ll see. Look at you…” he presses a kiss to her forehead and holds her out at arms length. “...you look so beautiful. New dress?”

“Mommy took me shopping. She said I could get a new dress just for today. Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s beautiful. You look like a princess.”

“That was what I wanted. I really missed you, daddy,” she brushes the tip of her nose against his. “It felt like forever since I last saw you.”

“I know it did. Felt that way for me too. Think you could spare me for a few minutes? So I can see your brother?”

Millie nods, then slides off the bed and makes way for Tanner to climb on. He’s the one Tyler had thought would be the most emotional; Tanner’s reaction to his return in Colorado ten months ago still very fresh and vivid in his mind. But while there’s tears sparkling in the five year old’s eyes, the ear to ear smile tells an entirely different story; immense relief and joy. 

“Daddy!” Tanner tosses his arms around his neck. “I missed you so much!”

“I miss you too, mate,” he presses a kiss to his son’s temple. “Every second of every day. You been good? Staying out of trouble?”

“I’m always the one staying out of trouble, remember?”

“Yeah, you’re the one I don’t have to worry about. Except when it comes to extorting money out of me.”

“I got that money fair and square and you know that. Is this where you got hurt?” Tanner’s fingertips gently glide over the scar above Tyler’s right eye, then the one below. “That’s what the bad guys did to you?”

“Yup. They worked me over pretty good. Nasty, yeah?”

“I think they’re cool scars! They make you look even tougher! Do you have more ouchies?”

“I have a lot more. But they’re all getting better.”

“Does your leg hurt?” Tanner tugs at the blanket covering his dad’s right thigh. 

“Sometimes. But the doctors give me really good medicine to help with that.”

“Can I see it? The thing on your leg? Mommy says it’s metal. Like a cage? Can I see it?”

“I want to see it too!” Millie rushes around to the other side of the bed. “Is it gross?”

“It’s not gross,” Tyler assures her. “Just weird looking.”

“Can we see it?” she stands on her tip toes and peers over the railing. “Let us see it, daddy! Please?! We wanna see it!”

“I’ve seen it already. Many times,” Esme says, and lays a napping Addie against his chest. “So I’m going to leave you to entertain these things with your war wounds and go and check on baby-man. Don’t freak them out too much, okay?” She places a hand on his shoulder and a kiss to his temple. “I’m the one who has to put up with nightmares. Don’t get them all worked up.”

“So you don’t want them to see my back?”

“I’d rather you didn’t show them that.”

Millie’s eyes widen. “What happened to your back? Is THAT gross? Can we see that too?”

“No,” Esme orders, as she heads for the door. “Please do NOT show them that.”

“I wanna see it!” Tanner enthuses. “If mommy doesn’t want us to see, it must be really gnarly.”

“No,” she repeats, then steps out the door, laughing at Tanner and Millie -in unison- declaring how ‘disgustingly cool’ the contraption on their father’s leg is.

*****

“What’s going on baby-man?” She crouches down in front of TJ as he sits in the hallway with his back pressed against the wall and his knees drawn into his chest. “How come you’re not in seeing daddy?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. Aside from the hair trigger temper and the fits of rage he gets into when those bottled up emotions get too much to bear, It’s the most troubled she’s ever seen him; brow furrowed and eyes darkened, corners of mouth turned down. 

“You must know what you’re feeling. You want to tell me what that is? Remember how we agreed that you’d do that? That when something is bothering you’d tell mommy instead of keeping it inside? So it doesn’t build up too much inside that little body and head and explode? Remember how you promised that?”

He nods. 

“Talk to me sweet boy,” she encourages, and combs her fingers through his hair. “Look up. Look at mommy.”

TJ does as he’s told.

“Tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s happening in that head and heart of yours.”

“I’m scared,” he admits, voice impossibly small. A far cry from the normal boisterous and loud five year old she’s used to.

“What are you scared of? Tell me what’s bothering you and I’ll try to fix it.”

“I’m scared to see what daddy looks like. I’m scared of what the bad guys did to him. ‘Cause he’s always tough and strong and if they could hurt him like that, it must be really, really. REALLY bad.”

“It’s hard, right? Knowing that daddy could get hurt like that?”

TJ nods and brushes away the tears that manage to escape. “Daddy’s my hero. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“You’ve seen him hurt before. When he broke his forearm, remember? And he had the cast on? And you’ve seen him with stitches and black eyes and tons of bruises.”

“It’s not the same, mommy. He wasn’t in the hospital any of those times. It wasn’t bad enough to be in the hospital. And now he is and that means it’s really, really bad. I don’t want to see him like that. But I DO want to see him at the same time. Just not all awful looking and stuff.”

“Baby-man, he IS not awful looking. He’s come a long way in a month. A very long way. I know what he looked like when it first happened, and he is nowhere like that now. He looks like daddy. Except for the new scars on his face and the thing on his leg. That’s it. That’s all there is.”

“There’s no other broken bones or bruises or anything?”

“No. Just the bad leg and the two scars. One here…” she traces a line over his right eyebrow, then under his eye. “...and one here. That’s all that’s wrong with his face. That’s it. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“What about his shoulder?”

“It’s just in a sling. And he can take it out of that sometimes. Even after his surgery it’s just going to be in one.”

“No cast or anything?”

“Not for the shoulder,” she assures him, and clears his tears away with gentle fingertips. “The leg is really the only bad thing. Remember the picture I showed you? Of what the thing on his leg looks like?”

TJ nods.

“That’s all it is. It’s nothing to be scared of. It doesn’t even hurt him. And it won’t be on his leg forever; just until the bone grows a bit and heals.”

“But you said he lost weight. And muscle. Daddy’s always so big.”

“Well he’s not as big as he WAS. But he looks great. His body looks just like it did when mommy first met him. And I thought it looked pretty amazing back then, didn’t I.”

“Yeah. You fell in love with him when he looked like that.”

“Exactly. I promise you, Tyler. There is nothing to be afraid of. And I know your daddy’s your hero. Nothing can ever change that. And daddy’s still here...with us...because he IS so strong and tough. Not everyone could go through what he did and still be around to talk about it.”

“He’s a real superhero then. ‘Cause he’s a normal guy that went through all that.”

“Your daddy really is something very special. Look how much he loves us. That he’d go through something like he did and keep fighting so he could be with us still. That’s pretty amazing, don’t you think?”

“Is daddy going to be mad? ‘Cause I didn’t go in right away?”

“Why would he be mad? He LOVES you. He loves you so much. And he knows how hard this is. It’s been over a month since you’ve seen him and a hospital isn't the most fun place, is it? He could never be mad at you, baby-man. He loves you too much. He knows this is hard for you.”

“Hey Teej,” Tanner wanders out into the hall. “Are you alright?”

“He’s just a bit scared,” Esme explains. “A bit overwhelmed.”

“Hospitals are scary for some people,” Tanner reasons, and sits down beside his twin. “I don’t like the smell very much. It’s weird. And I definitely don’t like all the noise. But you’re here and Millie’s here and mommy’s here and makes me feel safe when you’re all with me. Especially you.”

“Tell Tanny what you’re afraid of,” Esme encourages. “Maybe he can help you.”

“Yeah, tell me Teej. I can help. You help me all the time. Now maybe I can help you.”

“I’m scared of what daddy looks like. Because if he’s in the hospital, it has to be really, REALLY bad, right?”

“But he’s not. He’s NOT really bad. He looks like daddy. Well, sort of. He shaved his beard off and I don’t really like how he looks now. I like his face better with a beard. It’s how I know him. He looks too different. But I’ll get used to it.”

“He’s not all bruised and swollen and cut up?”

“Nope. He’s just got the two new scars but that’s it. He still has the bump in his nose like he did before. It’s a little worse now, but nothing serious. It’s daddy’s nose. And he doesn’t have black eyes or blood anywhere or anything like that. He’s just daddy.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me?”

“I’d NEVER lie to you. You’re my brother. You’re my best friend. I love you. Why would I lie to you? Here…” Tanner pulls his dad’s cell phone out of his pocket. “...I even took a picture of the thing on his leg so you wouldn’t be scared of it when you saw it. Wanna see it? It’s really kind of cool.”

“You weren’t scared of it?”

“A little. But I was more curious than scared and daddy showed it to me and Millie. It really IS neat looking. It’s helping his bone grow and heal. How cool is that? You wanna see it?”

TJ nods and slides closer to his brother, who in turn drapes a comforting arm across his shoulders.

“See,” Tanner turns the phone on and selects the picture. “It’s not that bad, right? See the screws? They go right into daddy’s leg. He says when he comes home, he’ll have to turn them. But that it doesn’t hurt. Maybe he’ll let us do it.”

“Let’s not get our hopes up,” Esme suggests, then pushes herself into a stand. “That’s a little more than I want you two learning.”

“Daddy looks fine,” Tanner assures his brother. “He looks like daddy. I wouldn’t lie to you. I’d NEVER lie to you. Come on…” he pockets the cell phone and stands up, offering a hand. “...let’s go in together.”

TJ sighs.

“I’ll hold your hand the whole time. I won’t let you be alone, okay? You always help me when I’m scared, let me help you, alright?”

“Alright,” TJ agrees, and gets to his feet, fingers entwining with his brother’s. “But only because I trust you, Tanny.”

“You can always trust me,” his twin declares, and tightly squeezes his hand. “ALWAYS.”

Esme drops a kiss on each of their heads, then gently steers them towards the room; smiling as they step through the door together.


	107. Chapter 107

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to @melmac for being the most incredible friend and support system! And my biggest fan and cheerleader! <3 <3 <3

“Did you know that Ovi has a girlfriend?” Millie inquires, as she lounges alongside him in the hospital bed; her knees tucked into her body and her sandals long kicked off.

She’d insisted on staying behind while Esme took the three boys down to the cafeteria to grab food for the whole family; climbing in next to him and snuggling as close as she possibly could. Addie naps between his thighs; arms stretched overhead and soother dangling precariously from slightly parted lips. She’ll be six months old in a matter of weeks; a half a year passing by in the blink of an eye. Still so tiny; even clothes meant for babies only in their third month tend to be big and baggy on that little frame. But she’s healthy and thriving. While still getting most of her nourishment and comfort from the breast, she enjoys indulging in various pureed foods and although not fully capable of getting into the position on her own, is able to sit up on her own. She’s extremely alert and smart; always full of smiles and giggles. The only one completely oblivious to the drama and hurt that has taken up the past few months; unaffected by the stress and the worry and turmoil. Too young to understand the concept of time or to question his prolonged absence. In the end, she’ll likely be the ‘lightest’ of the original five; carefree and vibrant and having no recollection of her family nearly being torn apart.

“I do know that,” Tyler confirms, playfully tugging on one of her pigtails and pressing a kiss to her temple, then wrapping his good arm around her long, slender frame.

It’s been a hell of a long month and it feels damn good to have her with him. To them ALL there. Finally able to hug them and feel their arms wrapped tightly around his neck; hear their voices and see their smiles and the way their eyes sparkle when they laugh. And they all seem so much bigger than he remembers; as if years have gone by instead of just mere weeks. He feels as if he’s missed so much; hearing about school and helping them with homework and shuttling them around to various extracurricular activities. Martial arts and gymnastics for Millie, soccer and lacrosse for the twins. He’d even missed their usual morning routine; breakfast and packing school bags and helping them get ready and waiting outside with them for the bus. Little and seemingly boring and mundane things that you don’t realize you take for granted until you don’t get to experience them. 

His heart hurts. Mostly for them. All the upheaval and the uncertainty and the massive change to what had been a steadfast and much enjoyed routine. He knows he should have walked away from the job years ago; when Millie was tiny and Esme was carrying the boys. Had he not been a coward...if he’d just admitted his fear of being complete and utter failure as a husband and father...all of this could have been avoided. He SHOULD have been happy with his new life; people that love him and accept him, a feeling of fullness and domesticity that he’d never experienced before. But he hadn’t been able to give it up completely; the need for the adrenaline rush that came with the dangers of the job far more powerful than he’d ever wanted to confess to. It’s too early to tell what -if any- long term affects the kids will face because of his shitty decisions. And all he can do is hope and pray that it isn’t nearly as traumatic and life altering as his tattered and weary brain makes it out to be. 

“How do you know about it?” he asks, as Millie’s fingertips explore his swollen and misshapen knuckles; tracing the various thin lines of scars before flipping his hand over, palm up. 

“She’s come to the house a few times. She stayed for the weekend once. In the guest house.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Oh really…”

“By herself. Not with Ovi. He stayed in the house with us. So we would feel safe. Like he kept us safe when we were still in Colorado and he took us away and we stayed in all those different hotels. Ovi always takes good care of us. Always.”

“He’s a good guy to have around, huh?”

“It’s nice having an older brother. Younger brothers are annoying. They get on your nerves and they get into your shit and mess everything up. TJ is always getting into my shit.”

“Gotta keep your shit locked up. He’s doing it because he CAN get into it.”

“I don’t know, dad. I’m pretty sure he’s just doing it because he’s an asshole.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “You gotta watch your language, monkey.”

“Are you going to tell on me? Are you going to tell mum?”

“I’m no snitch. Just tone it down, okay? Those are adult words. Try them leaving for them for the adults, alright?”

Millie heaves a dramatic sigh. “I’ll try. How did YOU know? About Ovi’s girlfriend?”

“He told me. And I’ve met her. In India. Before there was anything going on between them. She seemed decent. What do you think?”

“I like her,” Millie’s fingertips explore the calluses that mar his palm. “She’s really nice. And super pretty. She has really long, beautiful hair and she always lets me brush it and put clips and stuff in it. And she wore the tiara. I don’t let just anyone wear the tiara. Just Ovi and mommy, and you. Well, YOU still won’t wear it. But you’re allowed to. Do you think Ovi loves her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I think he does. It’s the way his voice changes when he talks to her or about her. And his eyes change too. They get really sparkly. That’s how you KNOW someone loves you; when their voice changes and their eyes sparkle a lot.”

“Think so?”

“I KNOW so. That’s how it is with you and mommy. When you talk to her or about her, your voice changes and your eyes sparkle. And smile a lot when mommy is around; even when she walks in the room and you haven’t seen her for a few minutes. It’s really nice, daddy. You must love her a lot. She makes you smile all the time. She makes your eyes really sparkly.”

He grins. “She does, does she?”

“Yup. She does. You love her a lot, right?”

“I do. I love your mommy very much. More than I thought I’d ever love someone.”

“Mum feels the same way about you, you know. I heard her talking to Auntie Riley about you; about how much she loves you. She said that you changed her. For the better. And that you saved her. I thought SHE saved YOU?”

“She did. She’s the reason I’m here. The reason I ever got to have you. To have ANY of you.”

“How did you save her? How come you’ve never talked about it before? It’s the first I’ve ever heard it.”

“It’s not my story to tell. And it’s not the same type of saving someone. Mommy had a bad life. Before she met me.”

“Because of that Mark dick head?”

“Millie…”

“You can’t deny it, dad. He WAS a dick head.”

“He was. But you don’t say that out loud. It’s okay to THINK it. Just don’t say it. Adult words, remember?”

“Sorry. I’m trying! I really am. But you have a huge potty mouth and you’re a bad influence! You always say adult words around us. All the time. Especially in the car when other people drive stupid. Or when we’re crossing the road and people come too close to us. Like that time that guy always ran Tanner over and you flipped out and you were gonna pull him out of his car and beat the shit out of him! You should have, you know. Kicked the crap out of him. I would have loved to have seen it. Remember how mommy freaked out? She calmed you down and then she reached into his window and grabbed him! She told him to go fuck himself and everything! You were so proud of her.”

“Your mom is tough stuff. People think I’m the one they need to be scared of, but I think your mom could do a lot more damage. You don’t mess with a momma bear’s cubs. Your mom will protect you guys to the death. She’s not scared of anyone when it comes to her babies.”

“That guy...Mark...the one she was married to before you, he wasn’t very nice to her, was he.”

“No. He wasn’t. He wasn’t nice to her at all.”

“Did he hit her?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. He did. More than once.”

“What an asshole. I’m glad she got away from him and met you. I wouldn’t have wanted him as my dad. Him instead of you? No thanks!

“You wouldn’t be here without me, so…”

“You saved mommy? From him?”

“It’s hard to explain. I didn’t physically save her, like she did with me. She had a rough life and was pretty down on herself and didn’t think she’d ever get married or have kids. And then she met and that all changed.”

“Did you love her when you met her?”

“Not right away. Pretty soon after, though. Sometimes it takes a long time, sometimes it happens really quick. And then there’s times where it happens when you least expect it to.”

“Because you didn’t think you'd ever get married again? Or have mother kids?”

“That’s exactly why.”

“It’s a good thing you and mommy met then. Because it’s a pretty good life; being a Rake kid. Even if there are way too many boys in the house. I really hope the new baby isn’t another brother. I don’t think my sanity can take it.”

“I don’t think mine could take another girl. You’re already a handful.”

“Are you kidding? I’m an angel.”

“So was Lucifer.”

“Who’s that?”

“No one,” he chuckles, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “So you like her? Ovi’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she’s alright. I like her better than Chloe. ANYONE is better than her! I like when Riya comes to visit. She’s a lot of fun and she makes Ovi happy. But I’m worried; that she’s going to take him away.”

“Why are you worried about that?”

“I heard them talking. And before you give me shit, I was NOT eavesdropping. I got up to go pee and I heard them downstairs.”

“And let me guess; instead of just going pee and going back to bed, you stood up there and listened.”

“Actually, I sat on the stairs and listened.”

“Amelia…”

She gives a cheeky smile. “Daddy…”

“What did I tell you about doing that? About listening to adults talk?”

“That if I listen to them, I’ll hear something I don’t want to. Or something that might scare me or make me sad. But I REALLY wanted to hear what they were talking about, dad. It sounded really good and I didn’t want to miss it. They were talking about moving. About Ovi going back to school; to be a doctor. But the school is in the States! In New York City! That’s a long ass way away! Way too far, don’t you think?”

“I think you need to stop listening to other peoples’ conversations.”

“You have to do something! You have to stop him from leaving. You have to talk Ovi out of it.”

“I can’t do that, monkey. I just can’t.”

“Why not? He’s your kid, right? I’m your kid and you talk me out of doing dumb stuff all the time.”

“You’re six,” Tyler reminds her. “He’s a grown man.”

“But he’s still your kid! And if you tell him he’s not allowed to leave…”

“I am not telling him that. It’s not my place.”

“You want him to go? To be that far away?”

“Of course I don’t WANT him to go. But this is something he wants to do. He’s grown up now. He’s twenty one. He wants to have his own life. And he’s ready for that.”

“Aren’t we part of his life? Us kids? He’s our brother.”

“And he always will be. But he’s a grown man now. And he wants to do something with his life. And it would be really unfair to him if I tried to stop him. That would be a selfish thing for me to do; stop him from living his life and being happy just because I’ll miss him. If it’s what he wants, I’ll support him. No matter how sad it makes me to see him go. It’s time. Aren’t you going to move away? When you’re old enough to?”

“I don’t know. I’m only six!”

“You really think your mom and I want you living with us forever? We love you guys, but eventually we’re going to want you all to get the hell out.”

Millie frowns. “That’s not nice, dad.”

“What about when you meet someone and get married and have kids? You’ll want your own place. You won’t live with us forever. One day, it’ll be your time to go. Right now, it’s Ovi’s time. We’re his family. And he needs his family to support him. Not hold him back.”

“But I’ll miss him. I’ll be really sad when he leaves. He’s always been around. Since I was a tiny baby.”

“And you know what? He’ll miss you a hell of a lot too. But he deserves to have a life, don’t you think? To be happy? See the world? Experience new stuff?”

She sighs. “I guess.”

“And it’s not like you won’t get to see him. I’m sure we can visit a lot. Or he can come and see us. And just think, when he has kids? You’ll be an aunt.”

“I never thought about that part. I like THAT idea. Being an auntie. You know what that means? You’ll be a grandpa.”

Tyler frowns and playfully pinches her side. “You bite your tongue. Those are fighting words.”

“You will though! You’ll be a daddy AND a grandpa! A really young grandpa, too. You’re not old like our grandpa. Or not THAT old, at least.”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. Fifty?”

“Excuse you?”

“Older?”

“Do you WANT to stop being my favourite?”

“Younger than fifty?”

“Much younger.”

“Thirty?”

“Okay, maybe not THAT young.”

“Forty?”

“Little higher.”

Millie frowns. “I’m getting close to fifty again!”

“I’ll be forty two, smart ass. Next month. That’s not THAT old.”

“That means mommy is only in their thirties. She’s younger than you are, right?”

“By almost six years.”

“You like them young, huh dad?”

“Six years is not that much younger,” he retorts, and digs his fingers into her side and aggressively tickles. He’d missed that laugh; the way her eyes closed and throws her head back and her toes curl and she gives a little snort that just makes her laugh anymore. That’s her mom right there; that lightheartedness and exuberance and losing herself in a moment. “You’re cheeky.”

“I learned from the best. Mommy says I’m mouth. Like you.”

“She called me mouthy?”

“And stubborn. But everyone knows THAT. That you’re hard headed and insufferable.”

He smirks. “You listen to your momma way too much.”

“We still love you though. Even if you are a total pain in mom’s ass sometimes.”

“I’m going to have a talk with her later.”

“She says it with love. She says you’re HER insufferable pain in the ass. Her eyes sparkle to, you know. When she talks about you and smiles at you. It’s really sweet, daddy. She looks at you like you’re the best boy in the entire world. Like you’re the only boy in the entire world, actually.”

“Well, I’m a pretty lucky guy. That someone like your mom even gave someone like me the day of the time in the first place. I think it worked out alright, don’t you? I think mommy and I make a pretty good team. We managed to make you. And all your brothers and sister. We did five things right.”

“You should have just stopped after me. You can’t improve on perfection.”

“You’re getting quick with the comebacks. You’ve got more of your mom in you than people realize, I think. And that’s a good thing. A very good thing. You’ve got a really good mom, Amelia. You’ve got an amazing mom. Don’t take that for granted, okay? You be nicer to her. She busts her ass for you guys. You need to start appreciating her more, okay? It hurts her feelings; you being mean to her. And I don’t like it either. No one disrespects my wife. And that includes my kids. Are you hearing me?”

She nods. “I’m hearing you.”

“Your mom is a good person. She has a huge heart. And she loves you more than you could ever know. So I don’t want her crying to me because you’ve hurt her feelings. Because that hurts MY feelings and then I get pissed off. And no one wants me to be pissed off, do they?”

Millie shakes her head.

“Be nice to your mom. Because one day, you could wake up and find out she’s not around anymore and that will hurt a hell of a lot and you’ll miss her like crazy. That’s my wife, kiddo. The love of my life. Don’t treat her like that. She doesn’t deserve it. Why are you being so mean to her lately? And don’t say you’re not; Auntie Riley tells me everything.”

“I’m mad at her,” the six year old admits. “At mommy.”

“Why? Why are you mad at her?”

“She lied to me. The day you got hurt. I had a bad dream and I went looking for you; I forgot that you and mommy didn’t come home with us. And I texted you and called you left you tons of texts and you never got back to me. You would NEVER do that; not answer me. You always make me feel better after a bad dream. I knew you were far away and you couldn’t make me oatmeal and cuddle on the couch, but at least I could hear your voice. But you never called or texted back so I called mommy to find out where you were.”

“Okay...and…”

“Mommy said you had left. That you had some work to do before you guys could come home. I asked her if she would call you on your work phone and tell you about my bad dream and to call me. But she said you weren’t near your phone and she couldn’t get a hold of you. It was all a lie. None of that was true. She told a huge fib. Mommy never lies to us. Ever. She always tells us how bad it is to lie, and she turned around and did the same thing she tells us not to do!”

“Sometimes, adults DO lie. We don’t have a choice. We do it to protect people.”

“But you weren’t working. You were hurt really bad and could have died and she didn’t even tell me. She could have told me. I would have been able to handle it.”

“No monkey, you wouldn’t have been able to. And mommy knew that. That’s what she lied. And had I been awake, I would have told her to tell you the same thing. To protect you.”

“It hurt though. That she lied to me. Because it was about you and you’re my dad. You’re my person. I feel like she should have told me the truth.”

“What would you have done? If she had told you?”

Millie shrugs. “I dunno.”

“You’re six. There’s nothing you could have done. Other than get upset and freak out and cry. And she didn’t want that. I wouldn’t have wanted that either. Your mom did the wrong thing. She did it for you. She was having a hard enough time going through it, she didn’t want you to have to go through it too. There’s nothing your mom wouldn’t do to protect you. That’s all she was trying to do.”

“I don’t WANT to be mad at her. I just am. And I’m jealous. That she’s got to see you a lot and I didn’t get to see you at all. For a long time.”

“I wanted to wait a little bit; until you guys saw me. Until some of the really bad stuff healed up. I didn’t want you guys to see like that. I didn’t WANT you to stay away: I missed you every second or every day. But I also didn’t want you to see me like that. Everything I do, every decision I make, is for you and your brothers and sister and your momma. You’re all that matters to me.”

“And you’re never going back to work? Never, ever?’

“Never, ever.”

“No more going after bad guys?”

“Nope. I’m getting too old for that stuff. It’s time someone else does all the dirty work. Time I put you guys first for a change.”

“I was mad at you too, you know. I didn’t want to be mad at you because I was worried about you and I missed you so much. But I still was. Because you told us in Colorado that we moved back to Australia that you’d never go back to your old job. That you were done with the bad guys. You promised. That was the second time you’d said you never go back again. So you lied to us TWICE.”

“And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I didn’t have a choice, Millie. I HAD to go back. Both times. To make sure that all you kids and your momma were safe. That’s the only reason I went back.”

“And we’re safe now? There’s no bad guys that might hurt us?”

“There’s none left. They’re all gone. No more bad guys to worry about. None that want to come after me, anyway.”

“And you WILL stay home? For good this time?”

“For good.”

“It hurts when you go away. I miss you when you’re gone. I miss our Saturday mornings. We ALWAYS spend Saturday morning together.”

“And once I get home, we’ll start doing that again. We won’t be able to do our normal stuff, but we’ll find other things to do together. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she says, and then curls both arms around one of his and rests her head back against his shoulder. Eyes closed against the sun that streams through the window; lashes impossibly long and dark against her skin, and the glow from outside highlighting the freckles splashed across her nose. In that moment she looks so much like her mom; eyes pinched tightly shut, nose slightly scrunched, bottom lip tucked under her top teeth. “Daddy?”

“Millie?”

“Why isn’t five babies enough?”

He laughs. “What?”

“You already have five kids. Why do you want to have one more?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“There was a mean lady on the elevator. She asked mommy if we all belonged to her. And if we all had the same dad. How rude is that?”

“What did mommy say?”

“Nothing. But I could tell she was mad. You know how when she gets mad she gets that look? You know which one I mean, right?”

“The one that says she’s going to tear someone a new asshole?”

“Yeah. THAT one. That’s the look she got. She was pissed. I stuck up for her. I know mommy and I sometimes don’t get along, but she’s still my mom. No one is going to talk to my mom that way.”

Grinning, he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Atta girl. You want to tell me about those bruises on your neck? And that scrape on your forehead.”

“Not really.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I guess I can’t lie; Auntie Riley probably told you what happened.”

“She did. But I want to hear from you.”

Millie sighs. “TJ and I got into a fight. He jumped over the table and tackled me. Then we beat each other up. Don’t tell him I told you this, but he is really strong. CRAZY strong. And tough. He’s a good fighter. A really good fighter.”

“I think you’re leaving out the part about WHY he tackled you.”

“We got into a fight.”

“About…?”

“It all started because I wanted the purple marker and he wasn’t finished with it yet. But I wanted it. I needed it.”

“Who had it first?”

“He did. He even asked nicely for it and I gave it to him. But he was taking too long! He’s so slow when he does his homework.”

“He’s not in any hurry. Why does he have to rush?”

“He’s dumb.”

Tyler scowls. “Pardon me?”

“He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, dad.”

“That’s your brother and MY son. And he may annoy the shit out of you, but he’s not dumb. He’s far from dumb. And I don’t want you calling him that. I don’t want you calling ANYONE that. Understand me?”

She nods. 

“What happened next?”

“I got mad. That he wouldn’t give me the marker. And ‘cause he got mouthy with me. So I got upset.”

“And…?”

“And I took it out on Tanner. I pushed him; off his chair. TJ snapped.”

“You know that sets him off; anyone messing with Tanner. And you know better. Tanner is a lot smaller than you guys. He’s got some shit going on. That you can’t possibly understand. I don’t want you picking on him, hear me? He’s had a hard enough go if it since he was born. He doesn’t need you to make things more difficult on him.”

“I don’t mean to pick on him. I just get upset. And he doesn’t fight back and he doesn’t get angry and it’s easy to pick on him.”

“I don’t want you picking on anyone. Especially people who can’t stand up for themselves. You’re better than that, Amelia. And mommy and I are teaching you better than that. Do you think maybe you want to talk to someone? About how angry you are lately? About how you just snap?”

“You mean like you and mommy do? When you go and see that lady together? The marriage lady?”

“Yeah, like her. But for kids.”

“You HATE going to see her.”

“But I go, right? Even though I hate it. I still go. Because I know it’s what your mom wants and it’s what makes her happy. And that’s all I want; her to be happy. Think you’d want to go to someone like that? Talk about the shit that went down in the last month? About being mad at mommy and being mad at me and taking things out on Tanner. Think you’d talk about all that?”

“I guess. I mean, if you’ll go to a person like that, it can’t be THAT bad.”

“So if mommy and I find someone and call them and arrange it, you’ll cooperate?”

“Do I have to talk to the person alone? Or will you guys be there? I’d rather if you were there, daddy. I won’t be nervous or scared if you’re there. Will you go with me? Will you come in the room?”

“Maybe. If that’s allowed.”

“I’ll go if you’re allowed in the room with me. I won’t go if you’re not. I don’t want to be alone with someone. I want you there.”

“I’ll see what they say, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

“Do you think you’re going to talk to someone? A special doctor? About how you’re feeling?”

“What makes you think I don’t feel okay?”

“I know you daddy. You don’t say much with your mouth, but you talk a lot with your eyes. You’re smiling, but your eyes are sad. They’re tired. There’s lots of stuff bothering you. Maybe YOU should talk to someone too.”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“I’m six. There’s only so much I can do. I think you should, dad; talk to someone.”

“You know what? I think you’re right. I think I should too.”

“Good. Because I don’t like when your eyes are sad. I like when they’re happy.” She raises his hand to her face and presses a noisy kiss to the top of it, then lays it gently on the bed and leans sideways; fetching a pen off the bedside table. “Can I draw on your arm?”

“What?”

“Your good arm. I want to draw on it. Remember how you said Austin drew the stars on your arm and you got them tattooed on there? I want to draw something too. And then you do that with MY drawing. Can I?”

“What are you going to draw?”

“I don’t know yet,” she uncaps the pen and grins at him. “Do you trust me?”

“You know what, Amelia,” he says. “I do.”

*****

“Are you REALLY going to get that tattooed on your arm?” Esme asks two hours later, as they lounge on a bench on the hospital owned section of the beach. 

The owners have made such that both mobile patients and those relying on mobility aids can access the sand and get close to the water; well maintained walkways leading down to the surf that can be smoothly and easily navigated. It’s done wonders for his mood; being able to escape the confines of the hospital. Even the sunroom and the central courtyard provide little to no relief; feeling impossibly small and as if the walls are closing in around him. It’s as if he’s finally able to breathe after a month of constantly being on edge. Being able to put his feet in the sand somehow calming and grounding him; the smooth grains cool and silky against his bare skin and between his toes. It fills him with a renewed sense of optimism in regards to his physical healing. The hard work - accompanied by pain, sweat, and tears - during physio paying off; more strength and range of motion in his lower back and right hip enabling him to walk all the way to the beach using just Addie’s stroller as support. It was a slow and and somewhat laborious journey; stamina still not back to even sixty percent and requiring him to take several small breaks to build up more energy. But it’s getting there; slowly but surely. And it feels damn good to be out there with his family after a month of being separated from them. One arm wrapped tightly around his wife’s slender body and tucking her tightly into his side, his baby girl perched on his good thigh and leaning back against him. He’s grateful just to be alive and breathing the same air as them. Watching Millie, the twins and Declan chase each other through the surf; hearing their giggles and seeing their smiles and able to call them over and touch them and hug them. Soon he’ll be home. In the comforts of his own surroundings. 

It can’t come soon enough. 

“I don’t see why not. It’s a work of art.” 

“Your baby girl can do no wrong, I swear. You’re really going to get this…” she pushes her fingers through his and turns his arm over; showing the ink based ‘masterpiece’ that graces the majority of his inner forearm. A stick figure family portrait. Complete with both dogs, waves in the background, and fluffy clouds and a sun with a smiley sun overhead. “...tattooed on you?”

“I told her I would. Can’t let The Queen down, can I?”

“You really are a brave man, Tyler Rake. If you’ll get THAT permanently put on you, you give zero fucks about what anyone thinks.”

“Are you new here? I thought you knew that about me already.”

“Like when you snap on the playground dads when they bitch about having to babysit their kids.”

“It’s not babysitting when it’s your spawn. It’s being a fucking father.”

“Remember Millie’s last Muay Thai competition? When she bragged about her awesome braid and how you were the one who did it for it? And that one dad made some comment about how doing hair was a ‘ladies thing’. If looks could kill…”

“You can’t tell me that there’s nothing more masculine about a guy who ISN’T afraid to get in touch with that side of himself.”

“Baby, you are the walking definition of masculinity, and no one can tell me any different. And it’s especially sexy to see you as a girl dad; how proud you are of your braiding girls and how you’re not the least bit embarrassed when you have glitter stuck in your beard or under your fingernails.”

“I do what I gotta do to keep my girls happy. Simple as that.”

“You do a very good job of keeping them happy. Myself included.” She combs her fingers through his hair, pushing the longer strands out of his eyes and pressing a kiss to his cheek; hand settling at the nape of his neck. Her head rests against his shoulder as her other hand comes to rest on his stomach; fingers and thumb softly rubbing through the thin layer on his t-shirt.

“I’m losing a lot of weight,” he laments.

“Not that much. You look like you did when we first met. I didn’t have a problem with what you looked like then, did I?”

“I’m not as jacked as I was then.”

“And I’m not as skinny as I was. You still love me, don’t you?”

“I love you more every day. As corny as that sounds.”

“I don’t care what you look like, Tyler. I just care that you’re alive. That’s all that matters to me. Everything else is just bonus.”

“I’m losing tons of muscle.”

“And when your shoulder heals, you can get back into the gym. It’s probably one of the things the surgeon will recommend; you’ll definitely have to do physio. And it’ll be awhile until you can do lower body, so you’ll have to concentrate on the top half. Besides, leg days have never been your favorite. When is the last time you actually did a full leg day?”

“Excuse you? I do legs three times a week.”

“Baby, I love you and your legs are amazing, especially your thighs, but you do NOT do leg day three times a week.”

“This is grounds for divorce, you know,” he teases, and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“You’d never file and you know it. You’d miss me way too much. And if you’ve always been upper body dominant. That’s just how you’re built. And it’s sexy as fuck. You’ll get back there. It’ll take time, but it will happen.”

“I just want all this shit behind us. I just want to wake up and find out it was nothing but a bad fucking dream.”

“I think the same thing every night before I go to bed. That I’ll wake up and find out it was just a big nightmare. But it could be worse. A LOT worse. You could be dead. And I’d much rather you here...like this...than the alternative. I mean, look how far you’ve come. Look what we’re doing; sitting here together, watching our kids. You’re holding your baby girl. There were a couple times I thought you’d never make it out of Dhaka. And yet, here you are. Here WE are.”

“I just want to go home. Everything will seem easier to deal with when that happens.”

“Soon,” she assures him, and tightens her hold on his hand. “Very soon.”

He nods in agreement, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and then resting his cheek against her hair; thumb repeatedly brushes against the length and the base of hers. 

“Are you okay?’ she asks. “You seem a little...off.”

“It’s those new meds they keep feeding me. They make me feel weird.”

“Weird as in…”

“I don’t know. I can’t really explain it. I just know it feels. I just feel...numb. Empty. Like I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s just your body trying to get used to them. The first couple of weeks are always brutal; getting past all the initial side effects.”

“I don’t want to take these if this is how they’re going to make me feel. I don’t even feel human. I just feel...I don’t know...nothing.”

“This too shall pass,” Esme promises. “It’s just side effects, like I said. You’ll get used to them.”

“I don’t even know why they switched them. I was doing fine on the other ones. At least I could function. I didn’t feel like a fucking zombie. I don’t want to live like that, babe. I don’t wanna live like I’m in slow motion; like I can’t feel a single fucking thing. I don’t want to be like that.”

“It won’t be like that forever, Tyler. I promise. You just need to adjust to them. And the other ones just weren’t right for you. They were taking care of some things but not others. You needed something to cover all the bases, not just some. And these meds will be better. Just give it a couple weeks. And like you said, once you’re home, everything will be fine. You’re just on edge being here. Away from your family.”

He nods in agreement.

“Has Doctor Klein been to see you? Since yesterday?”

“Popped in this morning to see how I was making out. How I was feeling after yesterday.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him what I’m telling you. About how the meds make me feel.”

“And I bet he said the same thing I did.”

He nods. 

“Did he say anything else? About WHY he switched them?”

“Just that he thought they’d be a better fit. That we’d talk more about it on Monday. At the next appointment.”

Sighing, she brings their joined hands to her face; pressing a kiss to the base of his wrist and then laying his arm across her collarbone.

“Did YOU talk to him?”

“Who? Doctor Klein? Why would I talk to him? He’s your doctor.”

“Are you sure you didn’t talk to him?”

“I think I would remember if I did. It was only yesterday. We were together at the appointment.”

He stares down at her pointedly.

“What? What’s that look for?”

“Either you’re lying, or you forgot that he talked to you when you were leaving yesterday.”

She chews pensively on her bottom lip.

“Esme…”

“He stopped me on the way out. Just to chat. To tell me what he thought of the appointment and how things went.”

“That’s it?”

“He said that he thinks there’s more going on with you than just PTSD and anxiety and depression.”

“That’s not enough?”

“It’s not an extra diagnosis. It’s a diagnosis that explains the anxiety and depression. It’s not something else AND those things.”

“What kind of diagnosis?”

“He didn’t say. He just said he had some working theories and that he’d talk to us about them the next time he saw us.. I wasn’t going to tell you; I didn’t want you getting upset and thinking we were talking about you behind your back. I mean, we were. But for good reason. Because he knows how worried I am about you. He just wanted to ease some of my fears, that’s all.”

“He didn’t tell you what he thinks it is? Like what kind of diagnosis he’s working on?”

“No. Just that he had some things in mind. I wasn’t purposefully hiding it from you. I just didn’t want you to think I was back stabbing you. By talking to him.”

“I wouldn’t think that. I know you’re trying to help. I know how worried you are.”

“Did he tell you anything? About a different diagnosis?”

“Nope. Just that he’d talk to us next week. I told him he almost busted up my marriage though.”

“That was not his fault. That was OUR fault. For keeping shit back and not being honest with each other. I thought after seven years we’d be past that. And I’m not just blaming you. I’m just as bad as you are. I should have told you; about how unhappy trying to make you happy was making me. I thought I could live with it. The job. I thought ‘if that’s what makes him happy, then I’m okay with it’. But I wasn’t. And I should have been honest about that.”

“I should have told you. About how big of a coward I really am.”

“You’re not a coward. You are FAR from being one of those. You’ve just got a lot of shit you’re holding onto. The same I am. But we really need to work on that; letting each other carry some of the load. I don’t want us to hide things from each other. I don’t want that kind of marriage. I don’t think you do either.”

“Of course I don’t. That’s the last thing I want.”

“We don’t smarten up, we won’t make it. And I really want us to. I want that so badly. Because I love my life and I love you and I love my children. I don’t want to lose all that. I don’t want to lose YOU. Not to the job, not to your own mind, not to my bullshit.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. You know that.”

“I just want us to be better. Stronger. Together. That’s all I want. I want to be in this life WITH you. Not without you.”

“That’s all I want too,” he assures her, then presses a soft, brief kiss to her lips. “You know what I was thinking?” he asks, as she once more rests her head on his shoulder. “We get any better, we might be able to take over the world.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. 

“You be the brains, I’ll be the brawn.”

“Deal. I’m in good hands if I stick with you. I’ve never doubted that. I never will.”

Tightening his hold on her hand, he places a kiss on her temple. “You know what else I was thinking? We make damn good looking kids.”

“Yeah…” she agrees, running a hand over Addie’s hair and smiling at the sight of their other children laughing and squealing; the boys attempt to bury a cooperative and giggling Millie in the sand. “...we sure do.”


	108. Chapter 108

The weekend had been a success. The majority of Saturday and most of Sunday spent on the beach; watching the kids chase each other through the sand and splash in the shallow water, and engaging in small, mindless chit chat and sharing stories of the week they’d had while eating meals together as a family. It was the closest thing to that ‘at home’ feeling any of them had experienced over the course of the last several weeks; able to be together as a family unit instead of separated by thousands of miles and horrible circumstances. Listening to the kids ramble about their return to school and their excitement over getting to see their friends again; their resiliency and tenacity both impressive and bittersweet. So young to have gone through what they have in the past year and a half; the Michael McMann fiasco and having to be ‘on the run’ with Ovi while their parents were on the other side of the world, abandoning their old home -the only one any of them remembered- in favour og a new one in a different country. And now the time in Mumbai; under the impression they were there for nothing more than a ‘family vacation’ and having their entire lives turned upside down instead. Yet they remain relatively unfazed; content with the time they did get to share with their father, even if it was in a hospital setting instead of the comforts of their own environment. It had done him and them a world of good; getting to hug and cuddle and see each other’s faces and hear one another’s voices. They’d been separated for almost six weeks; starting with his return to Dhaka and culminating in his lengthy hospital stay. And while there will no doubt be a long lasting impact for everyone, the present had been all that mattered. That quality time spent watching them play and listening to their giggles; being able to wrap his arms around them and kiss them whenever he wanted. And they’d all relished it; the heartache caused from being separated for so long at least temporarily easing. 

His smiles had been genuine; The broad, eye crinkling ones that brighten his entire face. The softer, more tender curve to his lips when Addie is asleep in his arms and he’s looking at her with just as much wonder and awe as he did when she was born and he held that impossibly tiny body for the first time. The one that exudes so much pride when he watches the older kids play or listens to them converse amongst each other; humbled at both being able to experience being a father again, and how beautiful they are. And the smile that comes with tears in his eyes; grateful to be with his kids again and loving -no matter how many times they’d done it or he’s heard it- when they throw their arms around him and say “I love you, daddy.” It never gets old to him; whether it be the first time Millie ever said it or when Declan finally got the words out. And he’ll feel it again when Addie is old enough to talk. 

His mood, for the most part, had remained stable; the happiest and calmest she’d seen him in a hell of a long time. As if the weight of the world had been lifted on his weary and pained shoulders. Reunited with his kids and the physical ties to the job now behind him. A relief that comes with knowing that he doesn’t have to bust his ass to get back on his feet; able to take his time recovering because he can support his family without having to get blood on his hands. It will take some getting used to; running things behind the scenes. He has spent years hopping from one job to the other; always travelling and getting that adrenaline rush that comes with the action and the danger. He’ll adjust; he’s resilient and versatile and will come to enjoy being the boss and the ‘perks’ that come with. No more sacrificing his own body and sanity to help others; able to delegate while being home with his family and enjoying the time spent with his kids. No more worrying whether or not he’ll ever see them again every time he walks through the door. And no more putting his own life on the line for a paycheck; millions already in the bank and the guarantee that it won’t stop rolling in. 

If anyone is worthy of having that surety -the knowledge he’ll be able to provide for his family (and then some) for years to come, it’s him. All the hard times officially behind him; the knife and gunshot wounds, the broken bones and bruises. No more new scars; the existing ones serving as a reminder of much more difficult and trying times. They’d started out at the very bottom together; broke and in debt thanks to enormous medical bills, living in a small apartment outside of Sydney and bringing a baby into the world when they were still getting to know one another. Cheap motels in Colorado followed by the very reluctant move into her mother’s basement until he could find work and they could get back on their feet and not have to rely on anyone for help. And finally that drafty, old farmhouse turned into a beautiful, warm home to raise a family in; the crisp air and the amazing sunsets and the view of the mountains. 

More bad had happened than good there; his return to the job, the subsequent falling back into alcoholism and drug addiction, the horrible mood swings and eventual separation. It seems like a lifetime ago now; Telluride, the volatile arguments and the doors ripped off hinges and the holes punched into walls, getting fed up with his shit and kicking him out no matter how much it hurt to do it. And while she’s still angry that it took him six months to get himself together and finally fight for his family, she’s grateful that it ever happened at all. That they were able to mend fences and working together to be stronger and better both individually and as a couple. It’s what got them to where they are now; able to withstand and conquer any and all challenges thrown their way. And it WILL happen. Whether it be weeks or months or even years down the road; they’ll adapt and they’ll cope and that love and friendship will end up even more resilient and powerful than before. 

Today’s the day. Doctor Klein had called her first thing in the morning to remind her; to prepare herself for both the best and worst case scenarios. The news is never easy to hear; regardless of an already existing diagnosis. It is a step up from the labels already tacked onto him; a more serious and life altering mental illness that comes with its own set of worries and difficulties that will not only impact him, but the entire family as well. Everyone will have to come to terms with it; the problems and the behaviours that the combination of bipolar two and C-PTSD with it, the potential for severe mood swings, aggressive tendencies, and violent outbursts. Even the kids, as young as they are, will have to realize that daddy’s irritability or lack of patience and emotional and depressive episodes have nothing to do with them; his brain is sick and sometimes even medicine and the help of special doctors and therapies aren’t enough to help him on the really bad days. 

She can handle it; she’s already dealt with him at his worst and has talked him off many a ledge and brought him out of anxiety and panic attacks. She’s seen him suicidal. Twice. The last at the very brink; with a goodbye note in his back pocket and a gun to his temple. It can’t get any worse than THAT; having to convince the person you love more than anything in the world not to kill themselves and then admitting them into a psychiatric ward for treatment. The three oldest had been too young to understand; accepting the lie he’d gone into the hospital because he was sick and needed the doctors to help him to feel better and he couldn’t come home until he was. But they’ve grown so much. Even TJ -despite his rambunctious and ‘no fear, no holds barred’ personality- has become wiser and more intuitive; his instincts and his empathy and emotions sometimes far surpassing both Tanner and Millie. It won’t be easy to hide. They already know that daddy’s brain is hurting; he’s sad and he’s troubled and there’s things in his past that are making it impossible for him to be truly happy. How do you explain to them that things are so much worse than they seem? That they may see things and hear things that scare them? That their loving and adoring and attentive father may sometimes seem like a complete stranger to them?

That bridge will be crossed IF they come to it. For now she wants to concentrate on what’s right in front of her; the impending appointment and the news that will be dropped into his lap and the potential fallout. She’s expecting him to attempt to push her away. From the beginning -when he’d grabbed her by the throat in that dirty hotel room in Dhaka- he’s been hell bent on protecting her; trying to scare her away because he felt he was too much of a mess and getting involved with him would only make her life difficult. Always worried about being a disappointment; terrified of failing her to the point that he’s willing to lose her before it can happen. She's wise to ‘the game’ now; she wasn’t scared seven years ago and she refuses to let an illness frighten her away now. He may put up a good battle, but she’ll fight back; refusing to be intimidated and sticking by his side and loving him even harder. 

He’s worth it. He always has been.

She arrives at the hospital at eleven thirty and makes her way to the physical rehabilitation and physiotherapy wing. The size of a standard high school gym, the open concept area is equipped with both standard and state of the art equipment and used by both in and out patients; car accident victims, stroke survivors, those who are still healing from traumatic and life altering injuries. He’s in the midst of a PT session when she steps inside; at the parallel bars, working on weight bearing and taking steps without the use of a walker or crutches. Sweat glistening on his forehead and the nape of his neck and dampening the hair at his temples. He works hard in the hour allotted to each appointment; determined to heal faster than any of the doctors have predicted. But he annoys easily; irritated by the close contact of the therapist and issuing foul, almost threatening looks each time a hand is laid on the small of his back or fingers wrap around a bicep. He doesn’t like being touched; only comfortable when it’s those closest to him. Even she’d had difficulty at first; outside of sex he’d been perturbed by displays of affection -especially publicly- and didn’t like the experience of being ‘fussed and fawned over’. It’s a byproduct of his upbringing and the horrendous abuse he’d suffered for years, and it had taken a while to break him of it. Sitting back and allowing HIM to be the one to initiate physical contact; slowly and quietly earning his trust and coming to recognize his triggers and learning just HOW he liked to be touched. Years later he’s a different person all together; enjoying and craving contact and not shying away from it whether in private or in a public setting. 

From a purely physical standpoint, things are improving since their return to Australia; his balance much better, the strength returning despite the struggles with rebuilding stamina and the dramatic loss in weight and muscle. Despite everything he’s been through, he looks good; only slightly slimmer than when she’d first met him, muscles in his shoulders and arms a tad smaller but not losing their cut and definition entirely. And she knows it’s a big deal for him; his physique playing into his confidence and his ability to protect his family and overpower any threats that may come their way. He hates feeling small and weak and the aftermath of what Nathan had done has left him self conscious and even scared; worried that he’d never be able to take care of her and the kids if someone was to try and harm them. Not realizing -or his brain not allowing him to- that his ability to take care of business at hand relies on just that: his abilities. Regardless of his size he still possesses the skills that he’d learned in special forces and during his years on the job; more than capable of protecting his family if the need ever arose. But his head won’t allow him to think that way; a broken and weary brain convincing him that he’s somewhat less of a man. And it’s hard; seeing him like that. The loss of confidence much harder to witness than the changes to his body. The latter is nothing; he’s beautiful no matter what. But to see him so defeated and thinking so harshly of himself hurts more than she could ever possibly explain.

She prepares to take a seat on one of the many benches that line the perimeter of the room; join other family members that have gathered to observe their loved ones ‘in action’. But the therapist spots her and offers a smile and a small wave in greeting before motioning for her to join them. Jordan’s just a kid; fresh out of college and full of energy and positivity. And no matter how miserable and difficult Tyler can be, he never lets it faze him; remaining positive and upbeat and never losing that glimmer in his eye or the grin that always seems to be tugging at the corners of his mouth. But her husband’s smile is the only one that truly matters; the way his eyes sparkle and crinkle at the corners and his entire face brightens. For seven years she’s experienced it; how happy he always seems to be whenever he sees her. Whether they’ve been separated for days or weeks or he’s seen her a hundred times in the span of a day and she simply walks into the room; bringing him a coffee or another bottle of water while he’s working out or when he’s finished with a surfing session and he spots her sitting on the sand watching. She’s never had anyone look at her that way; as if they’re happy she simply exists. And it takes her breath away and brings tears to her eyes each and every time. The realization that someone loves her THAT much. 

“Hey,” Tyler greets, and she lays her hands on his cheeks when he leans down to kiss her.

It’s neither passionate or intense, yet still causes her toes to curl; so soft and so sweet, as if it’s the very first kiss all over again. For several seconds afterwards their eyes remain locked; soft smiles curving their lips. It’s a fleeting moment yet so much is communicated during that brief silence. One of those times when all of his emotions are so clearly written on his face and in those brilliant blue eyes; all the love and adoration and blind worship that he feels towards her. And she can’t help but wonder what she ever did to deserve all of that. To have someone that loyal; so devoted and faithful and always looking at her like she’s the most incredible and beautiful creature on earth.

“Hey,” she says in return, the pads of her thumbs passing over his lips before the tips of her fingers drift along his jawline. The beard is already making its comeback; thick stubble that is rough and prickly against her skin. “Working hard, huh?”

“Not sure if it’s working hard or hardly working. I’d be a lot further ahead if I didn’t have someone up my ass all the time.”

“He’s keeping an eye on you,” Esme points out. “So you don’t over do it. Slow and steady wins the race, right?” She reaches up to brush sweaty locks of hair off his forehead. “Last thing you want is something going wrong and setting you back, right?”

“Why do you have to be so logical all the time?”

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” she counters. “You’re doing a hell of a lot better than any of those doctors in Dhaka thought you would. They said six months to a year before you’d even be able to stand on your own.”

“Maybe they just didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.”

“No, they just completely underestimated you Go easy on yourself, please. And not just physically either.” Her hands fist the front of his t-shirt as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. “And I’m proud of you, just so you know.”

That smile again. The one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. That successfully turns a tattooed and scared, badass mercenary into someone so adorable and way too precious for this world. He’s a far better human than he ever gives himself credit for; street smart and incredibly sensitive and empathetic. A humongous heart encased in such a big, strong body. It’s a side not too many get to see; outsiders and even some he’s known for years finding him sullen and intimidating. But when he opens himself up...when he shows his true self to you...it’s an incredible blessing. One she’s thankful for every day. 

His palm comes to rest on the side of her stomach, and she pulls back with a giggle when the baby lands a solid kick. 

“Pretty strong already, huh?” she grins up at him. “I wonder who they get THAT from.”

“They? We know this for sure or…?”

“Not until tomorrow. And ‘they’ as in we don’t know the gender yet. But that’s a boy kick if I’ve ever felt one. All your boys have been strong as hell. Declan used to almost bring me to my knees he’d kick so hard.”

“I remember him making you pee your pants a few times.”

“Because he loved using my bladder as his punching bag. Remember Millie, though? She was vicious. She used to make me cry.”

“Just wait until she’s a teenager; she’ll be making you cry all the time.”

“Bold of you to assume she doesn’t already. A lot of movement, huh? I told you they’re acting up all the time.”

His eyes are downcast as leans against stomach against one of the bars and places his other hand alongside her bump as well; smile both softening and broadening as the baby...or babies...move inside of her. Despite four previous pregnancies, it never gets old; for either of them. And he’s never more beautiful than when he’s in complete awe of the life -or lives- growing and thriving inside of her. Always so proud of his handiwork and contribution. 

“You want to feel?” Esme asks the young physiotherapist. “It’s kind of cool.”

“I don’t know if…” Jordan gives a nervous, almost terrified glance in Tyler’s direction.

“He won’t hurt you,” Esme assures him. “ It’s not like you’re some creeper in the grocery store putting your hands on the bump. That happens ALL the time. Every baby I’ve had; strangers just coming out of the blue to touch me.”

“She also gets her ass grabbed at the grocery store,” Tyler adds.

“That was one time,” she points out.

“Weirdos follow her home.”

“Also one time. And that guy learned his lesson, didn’t he. Here…” she takes Jordan’s hand and places it on the right side of her stomach. “...pretty neat, right? Like in that movie; when the thing was moving inside the guy and then tore through his stomach.”

Tyler frowns. “Are you comparing my kid to the creature in Aliens?”

“You’ve seen childbirth first hand. It’s not exactly for the faint hearted or the weak stomached. And you’ve also seen what newborns look like. It’s a fair comparison.”

“My kids are beautiful, thank you very much.”

“I love you and I love our children, but beautiful when they were freshly hatched? No. Just no. I’m going to let you get back to it. We’ll have lunch after this. Your next appointment isn’t until one. I figured we’d get something to eat, get you showered and cleaned up…”

Tyler grins. “Did you bring your bathing suit again?”

“At the risk of huge disappointment, I did not. I’m staying on the outside this time. But if you’re good, I might scrub your back for you.”

“Just my back?”

“We’ll see,” she sing-songs, and once more stands on her tiptoes as he leans down to kiss her. “Go easy on him,” she says, and she turns on her heel and heads back towards the benches.

“I won’t make him work too hard,” Jordan promises.

She turns to face them, walking backwards. “I meant Tyler go easy on YOU. I know how difficult he can be. How grumpy. I’ve only lived with him for seven years. But trust me, his bark is usually worse than his bite.”

Jordan’s eyes widen. “Usually?”

She gives a laugh and a shrug. “Good luck.”

*****

She passes the time by texting with Riley and posting the pictures her sister sent her on instagram; Declan clad in just a diaper as he sits in his high chair; chocolate pudding covering nearly every inch of his face and one of his chubby hands and a rather proud, pleased smile spread from ear to ear. Addie attempting to crawl. Able to push herself up on her hands and legs but unable to grasp how to move forward; instead opting to repeatedly rock back and forth, giggling the entire time. It’s hard to grasp; her baby girl -while still so tiny- becoming so smart and learning so quick. She’s always been ahead of the developmental curve; surpassing all of her brothers and her sister when it comes to mastering skills. It seems like just yesterday they were bringing him home; all five pounds, four ounces of her. She was supposed to be the last baby to grace their lives; both hoping for a little girl to cap things off. 

Neither had expected to have THAT many kids; Millie and the twins initially being thought of as the perfect amount of littles. But then a fourth baby made its way into the mix; making it to just shy of the third month before the pregnancy had no longer been viable and she’d miscarried. That should have been enough; the devastation and the heartbreak more painful than either of them had been prepared for. It had taken two and a half years of being extremely careful during sexual pursuits to finally be ready to try again; Declan being conceived fairly quickly. Getting pregnant has never been the issue; the long running joke revolving around his super sperm and her obviously being incredibly fertile. But getting past the first trimester has always been a struggle; severe sickness and issues like cramping and bleeding haunting every one of the pregnancies and causing an enormous amount of fear and worry.

Now the sixth. Maybe even the seventh. Things have been relatively smooth so far aside from random bouts of ‘all day sickness and the occasional pain and light blood loss. And the continued and more frequent movement has been a positive sign; the baby-or babies- strong and resilient despite the significant stress over the past six weeks. 

“Mind if I join you?”

She glances up. Smiling in greeting at Doctor Klein as he stands over her, hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo shorts. Compared to their first meeting, he’s cleaned himself up; still sporting a pair of well worn flip flops but a salmon coloured golf shirt replacing the tattered tee he’d been wearing during the initial appointment. He still exudes ‘surfer culture’; his skin well tanned and his hair bleached from the sun and beaded bracelets adorning both wrists. He’s an attractive enough man; salt and pepper hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, his eyes a stunning green and friendly smile that shows off pure white teeth.

“Go ahead,” she gestures to the empty space beside her. “My sister,” she explains, and nods down at her phone. “She’s visiting from Colorado. She’s got her hands full with the two littlest ones.”

“How old are they?”

“Almost three and almost six months.” She turns the phone towards him, showing off the picture of Addie and then swiping to the picture of Declan.

“They’re adorable. Little guy has quite the head of hair on him.”

“You know how many times we’ve been asked if we adopted him? A lot of people think he doesn’t belong to us. Tyler’s mom had red hair; he looks like grandma.”

“Baby looks like you.”

“Only took how many tries? The other three look just like their dad. Especially our daughter.” She scrolls through her phone and finds the latest family picture; taken on Christmas Eve in front of the enormous eight foot tree in the family room. It was the first time she’d ever insisted on some continuity in a photo; her and Millie wearing plain red and the boys in black. “See…” she shows the screen to the doctor. “...that’s Tanner and that’s Tyler. We’ve been calling him TJ since he was born. And that’s Amelia. Millie. Our first. She was quite the surprise, needless to say. Things happened quickly; between Tyler and I. She was the result.”

“She’s beautiful. She’s…?”

“Just turned six in March. Acts like she’s sixteen, mind you. Doesn’t she look just like him? She’s a female Tyler. His mini-me.”

“You’re very lucky; you have a lovely family.”

“I am,” she agrees. “We’ve had a good seven years. A VERY good seven years. Considering.”

“It must be hard; living that kind of life. A job that’s so dangerous and unpredictable.”

“It can be trying,” Esme admits. “It’s a lot of worry. A lot of stress. But it’s what he’s good at. Damn good at. And it’s what he does. I knew that when I met him. I knew he was and what he did for a living. It didn’t change my mind about him; I saw who he really was. He LET me see that. Right from the beginning. And who he really is? That person is beautiful and loving and patient and compassionate and just…” she sighs. “...incredible. HE’S incredible.”

“But it hasn’t been easy. Living that way.”

“No. It hasn’t. But we dealt with it. We coped. We made it work. Or tried to, at least. It’s caused its fair share of problems. I mean, we spent six months apart and there were times during that where we didn’t think we’d ever make it back to each other. But we did. And we’ve come a long way since then. HE’S come a long way.”

Doctor Klein nods slowly as he considers her words; his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together as observes Tyler and the physiotherapist working together. “He works hard.”

“He does. He’s the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met. He never gives up. He doesn’t know the meaning of those words. I wish he could see himself the way I do. I don’t necessarily believe in a higher power, but I’ve honestly prayed nearly every night for that. For the last seven years. That he'll wake up in the morning and see himself the way I do. Not as some monster who isn’t worthy of forgiveness or compassion or love.”

“You think he sees himself that way? As a monster?”

“I don’t think it. I KNOW he does. He doesn’t exactly hide it. He’s talked about it many times; about not feeling good enough for me or like he deserves people that love him and a normal life.”

“Must be hard. To hear that.”

“Breaks my heart. Every single damn time. And I’ve tried; believe me I have tried. I love with everything I am and everything I have; I’ve done what I can to make him realize he isn’t the horrible person he thinks he is. It hurts; to hear the person you love more than anything in the world talk about themselves that way. And then I get angry. At him. Whatever is going on in his head. I think ‘why isn’t enough? Everything I say, how hard I love him. Why aren’t I enough?’”

“I hope you realize it’s NOT you. It’s never had anything to do with you.”

“Logically I know that. But we aren’t always logical when we love someone, are we?”

“No,” he smiles. “We aren’t.”

“I know it’s his past. I know it’s what he went through when he was young; seeing and hearing his dad abusing his mom, losing her when he was nine, spending years being beaten on and made to feel lower than dirt. I also know it’s from being in the military; things he saw and heard and had to do to survive. Just like I know it’s his cheating ex wife and his son getting cancer and it’s the horrible choice he had made while his little boy was dying. It’s all of that; it’s why his brain is the mess it is. What brought this illness on. I know it’s all of that. And Tyler’s always reassured me that it isn’t me; that’s it’s never been about me.”

“But…”

“But, I’ve always been able to help him. Always. And now I can’t. It makes me so helpless. My heart hurts so bad.”

“I think you help more than realize. I think, in a lot of ways, you’re the main reason he DOES fight as hard as he does.”

“I don’t know about that. He has five really good reasons at home.”

“Five really good reasons that wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You’re the one who gave him a chance; who looked past all the baggage and all the scars and the mistakes and saw him for who he is. You gave him a life. You gave him a home and children. None of that would exist if it wasn't for you.”

“He would have found someone else.”

“I think you know...in your heart of hearts...that that isn’t true. The life he was living, it wouldn’t have allowed him to find someone else. In the same way he wouldn’t allow himself to find them. You happened upon him by sheer chance. When either of you least expected it. And he LET you see him; he let his guard down and he let himself be open and vulnerable. He took just as much of a chance with you as you did with him. The life he has now? That was possible because of you.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way. It was pure chance; taking that job and meeting him like that. It could have been any mercenary I met. But it was him. And believe, my life was a mess. Just as much as his was. I had an abusive ex husband and my own bullshit and my own baggage. Tyler looked past all of that. None of it mattered to him. He saved me; in every way a person can be saved. I never would have gotten out of Dhaka seven years ago if it wasn’t for him. If he wasn’t willing to sacrifice himself for me.”

“You did the same. By helping him. When no one else would. On that bridge.”

She gives a shaky smile. “I don’t like talking about that.”

“But you should. Talk about it.”

“Is this an actual appointment? Because this feels an awful lot like an appointment. Like I should be lying down on this bench and you should be taking notes.”

“It’s just small talk.”

“Small talk that feels a whole lot like a shrink appointment. I can’t do this. Not here. Not right now. Not when there’s so much going on. It’s something I don't like to talk about. Even on the best days.”

“It’s a horrible memory.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever been through. He was dying; in my arms. I had to keep him alive by sticking my fingers in his neck and pinching off the artery. And there was blood everywhere. HIS blood. And he was choking on it and he was dying and I did what I had to,” she frantically wipes at the tears that manage to escape. “I did it because he deserved a second chance. Because he made amends and he saved my life and he saved Ovi’s life and that was his absolution. He didn’t deserve to die. And I was going to make sure he didn’t. I would do it again; in a heartbeat, no hesitation.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I barely knew him. We spent five days together. And believe me, it was an incredible five days. We made plans; to travel and get to know each other and see if we could make something out of nothing. And I was pretty sure it would work. That WE would work. Maybe I did love him. I know I told him that one the bridge; I know it was what I was feeling at that time. But is it possible? To love someone THAT soon? We’re talking about five days. Can you fall in love with someone THAT quick?”

“Why can’t you?”

“That is NOT the answer I was hoping for. Love at first sight does NOT exist. No one can tell me it does. Lust at first sight? Definitely. But love? I don’t buy into that.”

“A lot can happen in five days. My parents met on a blind date. They got married forty eight hours later. Still married to this day. Sixty years and going strong.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyebrow arched. “Really?”

“Really. Very happily married, actually. And still very much in love. It gives me hope; that I’ll be as lucky one day.”

“You’re not married?”

He shakes his head.

“Ever been married?”

“I came close a couple times. But neither of them were ‘the one’. I am starting to wonder if THAT exists. If we all truly have that 'one and only' out there somewhere.”

“Now THAT I believe. I experienced that first hand; finding that one person that I can’t live without. And I never thought that would happen to me. Not after my disastrous first marriage. I thought that was it; that he’d ruined all men for me. I actually told myself I’d never trust a man again. No way, no how. And then I met Tyler and boy, did I ever go back on every promise I’d made to myself about becoming a spinster; a crazy cat lady.”

“And you knew right away? When you met him? That he was ‘the one’?”

“I didn’t say THAT. I knew he was different. Than anyone I’ve ever met. I knew he made me feel different; things no one had ever made me feel before. And I know he looked at me differently than anyone else ever had. Like I was the most incredible and beautiful woman on the entire planet. Like only I existed.”

“He STILL looks at you that way. I saw it for myself; at the appointment.”

“Everyone always teases him about it. That he has ‘the look’. Even our daughter talks about it; how daddy’s eyes sparkle and his voice changes and his entire face brightens. I like to think I look at him the same way; that he’s the most amazing man on the planet. Because to me, he is. Tyler’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me.”

“And I bet you knew that. Right from the start.”

“I see what you’re trying to do,” Esme laughs. “You’re still wanting me to admit to the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing.”

“Isn’t that such a bad thing to admit to?”

“It’s not a bad thing. It’s an incredible thing. IF it exists.”

“Why do you have a hard time believing it does?”

“It’s in fairytales. It’s what happens in Disney movies. It doesn’t happen in real life. You can’t love someone the second you lay eyes on them. You don’t know them.You just know what they look like. You need to time; to get them to open up and show you who they are and to trust. And vice versa.”

“And that’s what happened during those five days, am I right? You got to know each other; he trusted you, opened up to you, let you see the REAL him.”

“Yeah, but…”

“So isn't it safe to say that after all that took place, you were able to fall in love with him? Even if it WAS only five days?”

“You’re turning my words against me. I should never have gotten into a battle of the wits with a shrink.”

“I’m actually quite impressed with you. You hold strong to your convictions; you don’t bend and break easily and conform to other peoples’ thoughts and impressions of you. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard THAT.”

“I’m not surprised. But back to my original question…”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you? This whole ‘loving someone right off the hop’ thing.”

“I think you realize that you DID love him that soon. And for some reason, that scares you. To admit that.”

“It’s not that it scares me, it just….I don’t know...it sounds...weird.”

“Why? Why does it sound that way?”

“I don’t know. It just does. If someone told me they fell in love with someone after only five days, I’d tell them they were crazy. That they were imagining things. I mean, it took my mother years to actually tell my father she loved him. They’d already had three of my brothers by then. He had been telling her from their second date, practically. It took her YEARS.”

Doctor Klein smiles.

“I see what you’re getting at. It’s a learned behaviour; why I feel the way I do.”

He nods.

“So because my mother didn’t feel love or couldn’t express love sooner, in my mind, that meant it was ‘the way’. That the normal way of falling in love with someone, was to take years for it to develop.”

“Not necessarily years. But a long time. It’s likely that your mother told you that that IS how falling in love with someone works.”

“Hmm…” she leans back against the wall behind her; hands on either side of her bump, rubbing in slow, smooth circles. “...I mean, I can’t remember if she told me that, but knowing my mother, it’s highly possible. I didn’t exactly have the best role model when it came to love and stable relationships. She cheated on my dad. A lot. I even caught her twice. I always told myself I’d never….EVER...be like her.”

“And are you?”

“Hell no! I’m the one that gets cheated on. I’m my father, I guess. Letting people walk all over me and treat me like shit. At least, I WAS like that. With my first husband. He was a piece of work, that one. It started good and went so bad. I’m lucky I got out of there alive, to be honest. “

“And now? With your second marriage?”

“Now it’s everything I had always wanted it to be. I mean, we’ve had our ups and downs and we’ve been through some real shit storms together. But that’s just it; we’ve done it together. We KEEP doing it together. No matter how bad things get and no matter how stressed we are, we get through it. We just dig our heels in and buckle up and tackle it head on. After we got back together after the separation, we both said we’d do whatever it took to make things right between us. To make things last. And we’ve stuck to it. Through thick and thin.”

“Ride or die.”

Esme laughs. “As corny as that is, yeah. He’s my ride or die. He’s loving and he’s attentive and he worships the ground I walk on. And loyal. Very loyal. And very faithful. I never have to worry about that. He’s a good guy. I wish he could see that.”

“He will. Once he starts getting the treatment he needs, you’ll see a lot of changes. For the better.”

“What about for the worst? Those are the ones I’m worried about. I read those pamphlets. I saw what they said; about becoming aggressive and violent. How big of a possibility is that? That Tyler could become that way?”

“There’s no way of knowing. People are affected differently. Some become violent right away and stay that way. Some don’t develop until much further on. Others never become violent or aggressive.”

“Is it more of a possibility because of what he did for a living? Being a mercenary? Having to sometimes kill people? Does that play into it at all? If he’s HAD to be violent and aggressive?”

“There’s no correlation that I know of. Between what could be considered a violent and high risk job to behaviour during a manic or depressive episode. For example, I treated a career military member with severe PTSD caused by war time trauma; he became very passive towards his wife and children. Yet I had a pastor as a patient that became abusive and extremely volatile and violent. Everyone is different.”

“That is not the answer I was hoping for. I was hoping to tell me for sure if it was going to happen.”

“I can’t, unfortunately. There’s no way of telling.”

“What about the times he HAS been a little aggressive? The ones we talked about? Where he's torn doors off hinges or put his fists through walls or grabbed me during an argument? What about all of that?”

“Those were alcohol and drug induced rages. Those are entirely different circumstances.”

“One of the pamphlets that you gave me said I should have a plan; in case he gets like that. What kind of plan, though? I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do? What kind of plan am I supposed to have? What does it entail?”

“I have some names and numbers I can give you. People that can help you with all of that. I know it’s scary; to think the person you love could turn around and hurt you.”

“I need to know that my children are safe. I can handle myself. But I have five little ones...I have another one in here…” she nods down at her belly. “...I need to know he’s not a threat to them. I need to know that he wouldn’t hurt them if he snapped.”

“I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry. I wish I could.”

“I’m not leaving my husband. Not now. Not ever. This doesn’t change anything. I love him. More than I ever thought I could love someone. I’m not letting this tear us apart No matter how hard it tries.”

“There’s support groups. For both of you. And there’s meds and therapies for him. This isn’t a death sentence. It will be hard to hear, but he WILL accept it and he will learn to cope. And so will you.”

“You don’t know Tyler like I do. He WILL not accept this. He’ll try to push me away; to protect me. He’s been like that since the very beginning. That’s all that matters to him; keeping me safe. Even if it means protecting ME from HIM. How do I prevent THAT from happening? Him shutting me out and pushing me away? How do I stop that?”

“It’s something the three of us can talk about it and work on. Is there a way that this news should be given? Anything you think would make it better?”

“Tyler is very much a ‘rip the bandaid off’ kind of guy. He’s very direct and blunt and to the point. And he appreciates when people are like that with him. I think that’s the best way to tell him; just do it. And thank you; for not doing without me being there. It’ll make it a little easier. If he’s not alone.”

“I’m sorry,” he lays a hand on her shoulder and lightly squeezes. “That you’re even going through this in the first place.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, and looks over to where Tyler is immersed in conversation with the young physiotherapist; his face and eyes so determined. “So am I.”


	109. Chapter 109

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: talk of mental illness, anxiety, panic, depression

“What are you so nervous about?” Tyler asks, as they sit on the patio outside of Doctor Klein’s office; side by side on the rattan love seat. 

For once, he’s the relaxed one; the combination of the cocktail of new, various medications and the sound, sight, and smell of the ocean enough to keep any anxiety and panic at bay. And while normally he’d welcome it, he finds the change in his personality unnerving; the lack of emotion and the physical and mental emptiness. That’s not how he wants to live his life; head constantly swimming and his limbs feeling impossibly heavy; his brain unable to express or register any type of feeling. There has to be a better way; a healthier way of coping without being a complete zombie. He’s of no use to his family like that; feeling as if he’s unable to form a coherent thought, let alone express one. At least when things weren’t being managed he could function; he could be an attentive husband and a hands on dad and he had the energy to stay active. But this...being devoid of any and all emotion and wanting to just draw the curtains and lock himself away from the rest of the word...this is not the way he wants to live. 

It normally passes; a few hours after taking the meds the fogginess in his brain will disappear and the invisible weight holding down his body and incapacitating him will lift. But it’s hell on earth until then; wondering when...and if...he’ll ever feel normal again. Every morning since the change he’s been fighting it; refusing to take the meds and then becoming more and more agitated and anxious when he meets resistance from the nursing staff. He’s threatened them more than once; warning them to stay the fuck out of his room and that he still has one good arm and more than enough strength and skill left to kill someone with a single hand. Things escalate from there; threats of being restrained and forced to take the medications through an IV instead of orally, told he’d be kept even longer in the hospital if he doesn’t cooperate. Didn’t he want to go home? Wasn’t he looking forward to putting the last five weeks behind him and getting back to his family? And while someone using his wife and his kids as pawns only made him angrier and would send him into a near blind rage, he’d eventually give in; motivated by the fear of being separated from them even longer and being stuck in the one place that triggers him the most. 

“Today’s the day right?” Esme continues to aggressively bounce both of her legs up and down. “When you find out...WE find out...what we’re dealing with.” 

While occasionally high strung and anxious during tense and stressful situations, she’s normally able to control it; appearing as if she has nerves of steel during even the scariest and most dangerous of moments. Currently she’s a wreck; chewing on her bottom lip as the legs continue to move and her hands fidget with the tightly knotted bow on the front of her blouse. The bump is growing at a shockingly fast rate; she’s already had to break out the maternity clothes that she’d packed away after Addie and had every intention of selling or giving away. With Addie approaching six months, the pregnancy could be as far along as twenty-one weeks; far past the worries and fears that came with making it out of the first trimester. The bump is much bigger and more pronounced than it had been with any of the ‘singles’; even with Declan who’d weighed over ten pounds when he’d been born. It’s very similar to how she’d looked with the twins; showing extremely early and carrying all out front. And she doesn’t understand it and often laughs off his praise and worship of her, but she’s never more beautiful than when she’s carrying a child. HIS child. 

“What’s the worst he could say? I’ve officially lost my fucking mind and have no shred of sanity left?”

She frowns. “That’s not funny, Tyler. At all.”

“It was obviously a joke. I’m sure I’ve got a few shreds of sanity left. What’s going with you? I’m normally the irritable and anxious one at these things.”

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about what he’s going to say? Doesn’t it make you even a little bit nervous?”

“What can he say that can be worse than anything that’s gone on in the last month? Is he going to tell me I’m dying? I’ve got some incurable diseases and I’ve got four months left to live? How bad could it be? I’ve gone through hell. More than once. Can’t get much worse than that.”

“What if it’s something scary? A diagnosis that’s serious and will affect all of us and…?”

“We deal with it. We hear what he has to say and then get on with things.”

She sighs.

“What more do you want me to say? I can’t change whatever it is, right? So I just have to deal with and get on with my life.” It sounds easier than it actually is; expecting something bad and finding out what it is are two entirely different things. It’s easy to be confident BEFORE you know exactly what you’re dealing with.

“You’re not normally this calm,” she says. “About anything to do with doctors or therapists.”

“It’s the goddamn meds they have me on. Every time they give them to me I feel like this for hours; like I’m weighed down and my head is swimming. Like I don’t FEEL anything. I don’t feel happy, I don’t feel sad, I don’t feel angry. I feel nothing. That can’t be normal. You can’t tell me that’s normal.”

“It’s just your body getting used to things. These are new drugs; your system needs time to adjust to them and accept them. Give it a couple weeks; you’ll feel a lot better then.”

“I can’t live like this. Feeling like a fucking zombie. I don’t want to be like this; barely functioning and completely useless to you and the kids. You can’t tell me you want that either.”

“I want you to be healthy. Physically AND mentally.”

“And this is healthy? This is as good as my brain gets? You’re kidding me, right?”

“It’s just while the meds get into your system and your body gets used to them. In a couple weeks, you’ll be past that. You’ve gone through this before; the meds they first put you on when they diagnosed you with PTSD.”

“I was not this bad.”

“You slept for four days straight. You didn’t even wake up to go to the bathroom. You just slept straight through. How is this worse than that?”

“Back then I didn’t feel anything because I was asleep the entire time. Now I’m awake and I feel NOTHING. I’m not spending the rest of my life like this. I won’t do it. Live like this.”

“All I’m asking is that you give it the two weeks. Please. Fourteen days. And then if you’re still feeling the same way, then we’ll tell the doctor and they can try and find other things to put you on. I need you to hang in there. Just for a little while, okay? I know you hate this; feeling this way. And I hate it for you. But what if these are the right ones? Wouldn’t you rather try and find that out than just give up entirely?”

“I don’t know what I want. That’s the problem. I don’t feel a goddamn thing. I’m not nervous, I’m not anxious, I’m not worried. I’m nothing. THAT’S the fucking problem.”

“Maybe you need to take them at night,” she suggests. “Maybe you take them before bed and then you sleep through the worst and by the time you get up, you feel great.”

“I can’t take them at night because I have to take sleeping pills.”

She drops her chin to her chest and stares at him pointedly.

“What?”

“Are you taking them? The sleeping pills? Did you sleep last night?”

“I’ve been taking them since I admitted I wasn’t taking them. I told you I’d take them, I’m taking them.”

“Did you have any dreams?”

“I had a really nice one that involved you being naked and a bottle of chocolate syrup. When I woke up I had to…”

“I meant bad ones. Nightmares. Have you had any of those?”

“Only bad part was waking up alone and having to take care of business myself.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re a pig.”

“You like it. That’s why we have five kids. And one on the way.”

“We have five kids because you don’t know how to pull out or what a condom is.”

“You can say no, you know.”

“No. I can’t. You make it extremely hard to resist. Once this baby comes, you’re sleeping in another room until things are properly taken care of.” 

“Walls and doors can’t stop me and you know it. And besides it’s your turn. You get things taken out or tied up or whatever.”

“I’m telling them right in the delivery room. Take everything out. Everything. Every last bit. I don’t need any of it anymore.”

“Just do something temporary. Three years from now we might want another one.”

“That is never going to happen. If you want another one three years from now, you find yourself a second wife. Or a willing mistress.”

“Wouldn’t that technically be my third wife?”

“You know what I mean. You want any more kids after this, you’re on your own. Find a willing participant. Because I am done. I am all babied out.”

“I don’t want anyone else. Just you. It’s always been just you. It always will be just you.”

“Then you better figure out a way to impregnate yourself. Because this is the last one.”

“Or two.”

She frowns. “I hate you right now.”

“Do you, Esme?” He reaches out and clears loose strands of hair away from her face; fingertips brushing against her temple as he loops the dark tresses over her ear. “Do you really?”

“No. I don’t. But you can be an enormous pain in my ass.”

“You’d miss me. If I wasn’t around to be an enormous pain in your ass.”

“Considering how miserable I’ve been in the past five weeks without you underfoot and bugging the shit out of me, I think it’s safe to say you’re right.”

“Have you been a complete and utter bitch without me around?”

“I have. Very much so. As big of a pain in the ass you can be sometimes, my life DOES suck without you.”

“Mine’s pretty shit without you too. I think I’ll keep you.”

“You’re going to have to. No one else would put up with your crap.”

“As our daughter told me, ‘mommy says that with love’.”

“I definitely do,” she says, and places a kiss on his cheek. “And let’s not try and find out how worse life could get, okay? Because I’ve almost lost you twice now, and you know what they say about the third time being the charm.”

“Who’s they?”

She heaves a sigh of exasperation.

“There’s not going to be a third time,” he promises, and lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; lips briefly pressing against her brow. “That life’s behind us. No more getting my hands dirty. Or bloody. Strictly behind the scenes from here on out. It’s something I should have done a long time ago; walked away from it. And I’m sorry, for being a selfish asshole.”

“It wasn’t selfish, Tyler. It was self preservation.”

“I should have told you. Why I kept going back. Instead of making you seem like I didn’t want to be around you or our kids. It was never that. It was never about you or them.”:

“I know. Well, NOW I know. Better late than never, right? Let’s not talk about that, okay? Let’s put that behind us and just move on. Let’s find out what’s going on with you and deal with it and then get you home in a few days. That’s all that matters; you home where you belong. Because I miss you. I miss us. And this...the whole teasing and bantering thing...that’s part of us. So it’s a good sign. Things are going back to normal.”

“Sooner rather than later, I hope.”

“Patience, husband. You have so much patience with the kids and none for yourself. What is up with that?”

“I hate being like this. Weak. I fucking hate it. Not being able to do the shit that I’m used to doing.”

“You are NOT weak. You never have been. You’re recovering. You almost died. Dhaka two was even worse than Dhaka one and I didn’t think anything could be worse than that. Be kind to yourself, please. You’re doing so well and you’ve come so far and it’s all uphill from here. Can you do that for me? Be nicer to yourself?”

“I’ll do anything for you. You know that.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and leans in to peck him. “I do.”

He places a kiss to her temple, followed by her cheek and then corner of her mouth. Then nuzzles the tip of his nose in the warm, soft space between the side of her neck and her shoulder. “You smell good. Wanna go find a janitor’s closet and lock ourselves inside and fuck?”

She issues a derisive snort. “You wish!”

“I do, actually. I’m dying here; it’s been over a month.”

“Because you’ve been in the hospital. You almost died. You were heavily sedated for three days. How can you even think about that? Sex?”

“Excuse me? Have we met?”

“Everything you’ve been through, everything you ARE going through, and you still can think about THAT?”

“I’m a red blooded male that happens to be insanely attracted to his wife. Who just so happens to be the most beautiful and incredibly sexy MILF on the planet. We’ve been in a month long dry spell. How can I NOT think about that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Tyler, maybe because your psychiatrist is like twenty feet away. You’d think of all times you could rein in it, this would be it.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind if we step out for a few minutes.”

“A few minutes. That’s all I get after a month? A few minutes?”

“Listen, I know I can go a hell of a long time, but it’s been five weeks and if I last five minutes at this point, I’ll be shocked.”

“And how do you think we’re supposed to have sex with that thing on your leg? Have you thought about that?”

“No. Not really. But we’ll figure something out. We always do.”

“Well you’ve got five days until you come home. So you have plenty of time to problem solve, don’t you. Right now, I have to pee.”

“You just went before we got here,” he points out.

“I know. But your hell spawn is sitting right on my bladder and I can’t go twenty minutes without feeling like I’m going to wet myself. If things are this bad not even halfway through, imagine what it will be like later on?”

“Maybe I should live in a different house until your water breaks,” he chides.

“I would beat your ass into the middle of next week. This is YOUR doing. You can suffer the consequences.” 

He lays a hand on her hip, offering a small bit of assistance as she gets to her feet. “It’s such a miserable, horrible life I live.”

“You have it so rough,” she grins, then lays her hands on his shoulders and kisses him. “I’ll be back.”

“Is that a threat, a promise, or a warning?”

She shoots him a smile over her shoulder, and he reaches out and takes hold of her hand. Giving a brief, tight squeeze before she steps away; fingers sliding down hers and slightly brushing over her palm. 

****

“A patient in crisis,” Doctor Klein explains, as he steps out onto the patio; laptop in hand, three bottles of water tucked under an arm. “I wouldn’t have taken it if it wasn’t an absolute necessity. There’s no one after you; we don’t have to rush our session.”

“No worries,” Tyler says, and then gives a nod of thanks when handed one of the bottles of water. “Give my wife that…” he nods at the drink that the doctor sits on the coffee table. “...and she’ll probably run to the bathroom two or three times.”

Doctor Klein smiles and takes a seat in the wing backed chair across from him. “She’s reached that stage, has she?”

“She gets there pretty quick. It’s that tiny body of hers, I guess. Not much room in there for even the smallest of babies.”

“She showed some pictures earlier. Of your children. They’re beautiful. You have a lovely family.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m a pretty lucky guy. Sometimes I don’t take the time to realize that, unfortunately. It’s been one of our issues; me not putting her and the kids first.”

“Because of your line of work?”

“I guess I was using it as sort of a crutch; it was the one thing I knew I was good at and I wouldn’t fail at.”

“You were worried about being a failure? In your personal life?”

Nodding, he takes a swig of the ice cold water. “Yup.”

“Is there a particular reason why you felt that way? Certain things you were scared of?”

“I’m not scared of anything. I think that’s pretty obvious, don’t you? Think my body would be like this if I was scared?”

“I think we’re all scared of something. Even the strongest and the toughest. There has to be something that frightens you.”

“Not really.”

“What about the inability to protect your family? I know that’s very important to you; being able to provide for them, take care of them. And you’ve always been able to; keep them safe and out of harm's way. Do you feel that’s diminished in any way?”

Tyler shrugs. “I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to do much right now, would I. If there was a physical threat.”

“Does that worry you? That there could be a physical threat?”

“There’s always a chance. You don’t get where I am without making enemies. I’ve stepped on a lot of toes. Pissed off a lot of people.”

“But always in the pursuit of doing the right thing.”

“I like to tell myself that. That the jobs I took were always ‘cause I was trying to help someone else. Someone that couldn’t solve their own problems. You know, the whole good versus bad. I guess it made me feel better; about taking money for fucking people up.”

“And sometimes killing them.”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly. “Sometimes.”

“Do you fear failure?”

“What?”

“Do you fear being a failure. Is that why you continued to take jobs even though you knew it was destroying your marriage. You knew, I assume. That it was causing issues. Between you and your wife.”

“Yeah, I knew. I tried telling myself that it was the only thing I was good at; I needed to pay bills and keep a roof over my family’s head and food in their bellies. The job was what I knew. What I was good at. And the money was damn good. I could do two of three and not have to worry about anything for the next nine months. I guess I worried if I didn’t do the job...go back to what I know...that I wouldn’t be able to provide for them. So yeah, I guess DO fear that. Being a failure.”

“Do you think that stems from your son? Making the decision to leave while he was dying?”

Tyler shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I think it’s essential that you DO talk about it. I think it’s the root of a lot of the issues you’re facing. The fear of being a failure, the worry that you won’t be able to provide for your family and protect those you love. I think you feel as if you failed your son. You probably view that as your biggest failure.”

“It’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Protect our kids? Keep them safe? Chase the monsters away? I couldn’t do that for him. I couldn’t save him.”

“There’s a very big difference between a physical threat and one you can’t see. Especially one as severe and life altering as cancer. There was nothing you could have done; by the time he was diagnosed it was too late. And you’re not a medical professional; you couldn’t have healed him OR saved him.”

“I could have been there though. With him. And I wasn’t. I was a fucking coward. I took off. Because I couldn’t handle seeing him like that and I couldn’t handle knowing there was nothing I could do for him.”

“Is that what you do? Run? When you feel scared and overwhelmed?”

Tyler nods. “It’s my go to. I’ve done it since.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“I guess because I failed him, I feel like I’m going to fail my other kids too. I guess because I was a shit husband the first time around, it automatically means I’m going to be a shit one again. And it’s not because I’m not trying to be better. I am. I try every fucking day to be what they need. What SHE needs. And every day I feel like I’m not enough. It’s been like that for almost seven years; feeling that way.”

“But you know that SHE doesn’t feel that way.”

“Yeah, I do know that. I know how she feels about me. How she sees me.”

“But you can’t see yourself the same way, can you.”

“Kind of hard when most of your life was spent being told how worthless you are. When you spent it constantly having the shit kicked out of you and treated lower than dirt. It’s hard to see yourself as a good person when you’ve done the things I have. For money.”

“You see yourself as a monster.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Pretty much.”

“Despite how your wife sees you. Or how your kids see you.”

“They’re kids. They don’t know everything. About me.”

“And your wife?”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What can I say? Her taste in men has always been shit.”

“I think you’re way too hard on yourself.”

“I think you don’t know me well enough.”

“Sorry,” Esme gives a sheepish smile as she steps outside. “This is getting to be a bad habit of mine; walking into the middle of things. I had to use the little girl’s room and there was a line up. So…” she returns to her spot next to Tyler; purposely sitting close enough so the sides of their thighs are pressed together. “..what did I miss?”

“Just some small talk,” Doctor Klein smiles. “I understand it was a good weekend?”

“I brought the kids down,” she explains, and takes one of Tyler’s hands in both of hers. “They missed daddy; they hadn’t seen him in over a month. So I rented a hotel room nearby so they could spend some time with him. I think it went over well. Everyone was happy and had a good time, I think.”

“Yeah,” Tyler gives her a reassuring smile. “It was good. I missed them. Meant a lot to have them here.”

“You’re a hands on father,” Doctor Klein observes.

“I try to be. I try to be the dad that I didn’t have. That I wanted.”

“He’s amazing,” Esme says. “He’s an incredible dad. I couldn’t have asked or wished for a better father for my kids. I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever have children. That sort of went out the window after my ex. And then Tyler and I met and everything changed and…” she shrugs. “...it’s been more good times than bad times. He’s so good with them. They adore him. I adore him.”

“How has your mood been since then?” the doctor addresses Tyler.

“Alright, I guess. I had a hard time on Sunday. After they left. Got a little depressed. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to see them for a while. Other than that, I’ve been okay.”

“I heard there was an incident over your meds. That you became aggressive and violent with some of the staff.”

“I didn’t want to take them,” Tyler admits. “I don’t like the way they make me feel. Like I’m a fucking zombie. I don’t feel ANYTHING. It’s like I’m autopilot; just doing things for the sake of doing them. Like I’m just going through the motions. Is that part of it? What these meds do? Is this a permanent thing or…?”

“It takes a few weeks. For your body to get used to them.”

“A few weeks? I’m going to feel like this for a few weeks? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Esme’s hands tighten around his. “Is there anything you can do help him get past it quicker? Something else you can give him on top of these drugs? Something that can stop him from feeling this way?”

“I don’t want to take anything else,” Tyler objects. “I’m taking enough. I don’t want anything else.”

“You need SOMETHING,” she attempts to reason. “You said yourself you can’t live like this; feeling this way. I don’t want you going through this for a few weeks, Tyler. That’s way longer than I thought it would last. I don’t want you feeling like this for that long. If there’s something that can help…”

“I don’t want more drugs. I want drugs that work. That don’t make me feel like shit. I’m supposed to feel better, yeah? Well these drugs aren’t doing that. They’re making me feel worse. And I won’t last four weeks. I won’t. So it’s either take me off meds entirely or find something different. But I’m not taking MORE.”

“Being completely off meds is not an option,” Doctor Klein says. “You need to be medicated. And continue with therapy. Different styles and variations.”

“Then put me on something else. Something that doesn’t make me feel like this. There has to be something else, yeah? Something else I can take that won’t turn me into a zombie. Because I won’t live like that. I won’t.”

“In your case, with your particular diagnosis, it’s often extremely hard to come up with a combination of meds that DO work It’s trial and error, unfortunately.”

“So then play around with it. Try different things. Anything is better than THIS.”

“It’s very complex,” Doctor Klein explains. “The illness that we’re dealing with…”

“So I AM sick.”

“Not physically speaking. But mentally, yes. You do have an illness.”

“What kind? What are we looking at? Is something that’s going to get worse? Something that could kill me? Five, ten, fifteen years down the road?”

“It’s not fatal. And it’s not progressive.”

“So it’s not the brain damage. Because they warned about that. That things could detroriate and I could get worse. We’re not looking at that?”

“It has nothing to do with that. In fact, in fact, your MRI’s show no change in the gray matter that was evident seven years ago. So your brain is NOT deteriorating.”

“So that’s good news, right? That it’s not. I’m not going to stroke out or wind up a vegetable or worse?”

“This is a legitimate mental illness all on its own. And it’s serious and life alerting; you’ll have to make lifestyle changes and continue with meds and therapy and learn how to adapt and cope.”

“Okay. So what is it? What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Esme speaks up. “You didn’t do anything to cause this. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it from getting this far. It’s your brain, Tyler. It’s sick and you need help. And this is the first step in getting you that help.”

“She knows?” he asks the doctor. “You told her?”

“I felt it was best if she knew ahead of time. So she could research things on her own and come to terms with it. And she wanted to be here; when I told you.”

“How bad is it? How fucked up am I?”

“You have a form of post traumatic stress disorder called C-PTSD,” the doctor explains. “With regular PTSD, we find that it’s caused by someone suffering a solitary traumatic event. Had your issues started seven years ago, after the incident in Dhaka, the original diagnosis of PTSD would have been correct. However, you’ve experienced numerous traumatic events. Starting from when you were a child; your father’s abuse of your mother, her untimely death, and then years of your own abuse and neglect. The things you show...the signs...all point towards Complex PTSD. Nightmares, inability to control your temper or your emotions, substance abuse issues, vivid flashbacks, severe panic and anxiety attacks.”

“So I DO have PTSD? Just a worse version of it?”

“Neither is worse than the other. One is just from a single event, the other from prolonged and frequent events. Your childhood, the things you witnessed in the military, your son’s illness and death, your time as a mercenary, both of your experiences in Dhaka.”

“But it’s treatable, yeah? There’s things that can be done for it?"

“Medicines, therapists, counselling. All of those things will help. But you have to WANT the help. You have to be willing to accept it and cooperate.”

“Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it. Anything. Everything. Just set it up and I’ll do it.”

Esme sighs and turns sideways on the love seat to face him; hands tightening around his. “It’s not just that, Tyler. There’s more.”

“More? What do you mean more? How much more?”

“You have something called Bipolar Two,” Doctor Klein explains. “I assume you’ve heard of bipolar disorder.”

“Yeah, it used to be called manic depression or some shit like that. What do you mean I have it? I have THAT on top of the other thing?”

“It’s a very serious depressive disorder. Often seen with both types of PTSD. With bipolar, the manic episodes can be very severe and very dangerous. With bipolar two, patients tend to be depressed for longer periods of time. Also, they have what is known as hypomania; episodes of being abnormally upbeat, the decreased need for sleep, increased agitation and irritability, hyper-vigilance.”

“A lot of that makes sense, right?” Esme squeezes his hand. “You’ve been experiencing all those things for years. Just now we have a name for it. Instead of three separate diagnoses, we just have two. And that’s better, don’t you think? That we know exactly what’s causing these things?

“What about the other side of things?” Tyler asks. It’s all too much to register at the moment; unsure of how to feel, but needing answers. “Not the manic side. The other part.”

“The depressive episodes can be severe,” the doctor replies. “Which you’ve been experiencing. Along with anxiety and moments of panic. There’s a host of other issues; insomnia, feelings of worthlessness and excessive and misplaced and inappropriate guilt.”

“Trust me, my guilt is NOT inappropriate. It’s there for a reason. A damn good reason.”

“No Tyler,” Esme’s voice is quiet and calm. Patient. “It’s not appropriate. It never has been.”

“I let my son die.”

“There was nothing you could have done. You didn’t cause Austin to get cancer. And you couldn’t have done anything to stop it. It’s not your fault that he got sick. It’s not your fault that he died. None of that is your fault.”

“I wasn’t there. When he died. I was his father and I left and he died alone.”

“No. He didn’t. His mother was with him. He was not alone. Get that out of your head; that he was scared and he was alone and no one was with him. That is NOT what happened.”

“I still wasn’t there. And I should have been.”

“Yeah, you should have. You fucked up. You made a horrible decision at a horrible time. But does that mean you pay for it for the rest of your life? WITH your life? Does it mean you spend the next fifty years hating yourself and seeing yourself as a monster? Does it mean you don’t let yourself have a new life? That you don’t let yourself be happy? You have me and you have your kids. Do you really think you don’t deserve any of that because of one mistake?”

“It was a huge mistake. A massive mistake.”

“Yes, it was. But does that mean you can’t be happy? Answer my question, please. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you truly think you don’t deserve me or the kids or a normal life because of that one mistake? Look at me…” she lays her hands on the sides of his cheeks and forcibly turns his head to face her. “...look at me and tell me that you don’t deserve what you have now.”

“I don’t. I don’t deserve any of that. I don’t deserve you or my kids or the life I have. I don’t.”

“Why do you think that? Tell me why. Why do you think you’re such a horrible person?”

“Because I am. I’m shit, Esme. And you knew that and you still got involved with me and you still stuck around and…”

“No, Tyler. I didn’t know that. And you want to know why? Because you’re not who you think you are. Yeah, you fucked up and you fucked up big. But I never once looked at you like you were a monster. Not once did I look at you like you were shit. Not once did I even think that. You know what I thought? I thought here’s a guy that made a bad mistake because he was scared and he was overwhelmed and he was terrified of losing someone he loved more than life itself. THAT’S what I thought. And that’s why I got involved with you and that’s why I stayed. Because I SAW you. For who you really are. Not who you THINK you are.”

“You should have walked away,” his voice cracks with emotion.”On that bridge. You should have left me there.”

“No. I shouldn’t have. You saved me. You saved Ovi. You made amends that day. You got your absolution. And that’s why I stuck around and put my ass on the line to save yours. Because you deserved to live. You deserved a second chance. You did NOT need to pay for Austin’s life with your own! And you’ve spent the last five years...since going back to the job...trying to pay with your life. Even though you have a home and someone who loves you and other kids who worship the ground you walk on. . None of that was enough for you. You still felt you had to suffer and die because of one mistake.”

“That’s NOT what I felt. At all. That’s not..”

“And you know what the worst part of it all is? You didn’t even stop to think what it would do to me. What it would do to your kids. You didn’t even care about that, did you? What it would do to us if you died. Do you really hate yourself THAT much? That we don’t matter to you?”

“Of course you matter to me! You and the kids are all that matters. Why can’t you see that?”

“Even after I came along...even after we had our babies...you still thought you had to pay for what you did. For that one mistake. And you couldn’t even stop and realize what hating yourself was doing to your family. What it was doing to US. Did you ever think about that, Tyler? What it was doing? What it felt like to see you walk out the door and know you still had a death wish? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

“No,” he admits. “I didn’t.”

“It fucking killed me inside when you went back to the job. It destroyed me. Because I didn’t understand why I wasn’t enough. Why your children weren’t enough. I gave you what you wanted; a marriage and a home and a family. And it still wasn’t enough to stop you from trying to kill yourself. Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

“It’s not about you. It’s never been about you. You’ve done everything right. From day one. It’s NOT you.”

“I know that now. I didn’t know that then. And it killed me when you picked the job over me. I’ve spent years pretending it’s okay; I’ve tried convincing myself that I’m alright with it and if it’s what keeps you happy, I’m willing to sacrifice. I can’t do it anymore. I love you, but I need to love myself. And I need to love my children. With or without you. I will not be second anymore. Not to the job, not to Nik, not to anyone. I won’t live like that. And if you can’t give me that…”

“I already told you. I’m done. That’s it. I’m not losing you. Or my kids.”

“You need help, Tyler. WE need help. Now more than ever. This isn’t going to go away. This illness. We’re going to be living with this for the rest of our lives. And we won’t survive if we DON’T get that help. You know that, right?”

He nods.

“You’re not alone in this. I will do whatever it takes to help you. But if you’re just going to turn around and go back to old habits and old lifestyles and break my heart…”

“I’m not,” he insists. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll do whatever it takes. To make this work. To make US work. I’m sorry…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; his lips against his forehead as her arms circle his neck. “...I am so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she says, fingernails lightly scraping at the closely cropped hair at the back of his head. “Those are just words. I want you to change. I want you to get help. I want US to get help. I don't want this breaking us. There’s no reason it has to.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to. Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do. I told you that. That I’d do whatever it takes And I AM sorry; that things got so fucked up. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I only ever meant to hurt myself.”

“You’ve never had a reason to though,” she pulls back to look at him, his face cradled in her hands. “You’re not the monster you think you are. What will it take to get you to realize that? Tell me what I need to do, Tyler. To get you to stop seeing yourself that.”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

“This is a start,” Doctor Klein says. “The start of accepting the diagnosis; learning to cope with it and make changes and accept a new reality. And it’s a team effort; not just the two of you, but myself and other medical professionals as well.”

“What do I need to do? Tyler asks, a firm and protective hand on the nape of his wife’s neck. “Where do I start?”

“I think the two of you need some time...alone...to talk about this. About how you’re both feeling, what you’re both scared of, how you can help each other. You’re strong; a lot stronger than a lot of couples that have sat right where you’re sitting. A lot of times, it DOES tear people apart. But their relationship has been much weaker; not the kind of bond that exists between the two of you. Your track record for getting through tough times is a hundred percent. There’s no reason that has to change.”

“It won’t,” Tyler says, and he presses a kiss to his wife’s temple. “I won’t let it.”


	110. Chapter 110

He watches her from across the table; her elbow perched upon the faded and scuffed wood and her cheek resting in her palm. Her other hand moves in slow, methodical circles; fork repeatedly swirling food around the plate, the occasional morsel making it to her mouth. It’s been forty minutes since the end of their appointment with Doctor Klein; thirty of those spent in silence , tucked in the back corner of the sparsely populated hospital cafeteria. It had been his idea not to return to the confines of his room or the sun porch at the end of the ward; worried that he’d feel as if the walls were closing in around him and the accompanying sensation of being suffocated would bring on an anxiety attack. Both the fogginess and the feeling of emptiness the meds had brought on have started to lift; his brain able to finally process the information given to him and form coherent thoughts. Yet he feels oddly calm; unsure if it’s shock at the news that had been dropped in his lap or if he’d long ago relegated himself to the fact that there was something far greater and more serious going on than anyone had ever suspected. 

Esme on the other hand has been the one on edge; complaining of nausea and light-headedness and the cramps that have been a regular -yet still worrisome- occurrence with each baby that she’s carried. With the boys she’d been considered extremely high risk; twin to twin transfusion rare but responsible for severe illness (and in the worst case scenario) death to the mother and sadly, one or both babies. They’d been lucky. Strict bedrest from the fifth month on and frequent specialist appointment had kept her relatively healthy and both boys alive. TJ had been the ‘greedy twin’; over six and a half pounds and seventeen inches long. Tanner on the other hand had been gravely ill; under three pounds, lungs not fully developed, a minor heart defect repaired two weeks after his arrival. It had been touch and go with him for two and a half months. A handful of bouts with jaundice, the fear of brain damage and detached retinas. Shockingly low blood sugar and eating solely through a NG tube and needing oxygen while he slept. But he’d fought with every fibre of his tiny being; proving all the doctors -who’d spent every day since his birth advising his parents to make funeral arrangements, not planning to bring another baby home- wrong. He’d been all of five and a half pounds when he’d been released at three and a half months; almost half of what his twin brother weighed in at. Still needing that tube leading from his left nostril down his throat into his stomach; tiring quickly and falling asleep before And he’s been the healthiest of all of the kids since.

While there’s little to no chance of something THAT perilous happening a second time, he doesn’t want to take the chance of anything going wrong. And he knows how she gets when she’s stressed or fraught with worry; issues falling asleep and staying asleep, recurring issues like colds and migraines and bouts of nausea and dizziness. When he’s home he can keep an eye on her; keep on her ass about drinking enough water and eating properly, take the kids out of the house for a few hours to give her some much needed time alone. Stuck in the hospital an hour away, he’s both powerless AND helpless; Ovi and Riley a load of help with the kids but neither a match for Esme’s stubbornness. And while he can’t necessarily control the fallout from the diagnosis just recently dropped upon, he can control what’s going on right in front of him. He can keep himself calm and grounded by helping HER; taking care of her needs and protecting both her and the baby -or babies- that she’s carrying. And each time she heaves a weary sigh and drops the fork onto the plate and pushes the food away, he simply slides it back towards her. No begging or pleading. No threats or losing his patience and barking orders. Just a quiet, yet firm insistence; his head slightly cocked to the side and both eyebrows arched as he waits for her reaction. 

“I’ve done the best I can,” she laments two bites later, and tosses the fork onto the plate and once more pushes it away.

“You ate like a quarter of it. THAT’S the best you can do?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t use your ‘dad voice’ on me. I’m not one of the kids.”

“Don’t act like one, you won’t get treated like one.” 

“Don’t be a dick. Maybe I’m just not hungry. Have you ever thought of that? I didn’t even want anything. You just went ahead and ordered everything even though I said I didn’t want it.”

“Did you eat today? Before you came here?”

“I don’t know. Mom brain, remember? I can’t remember the last time I took a shower in peace, never mind what I ate for breakfast. I think I had some yogurt. And half a granola bar.”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t have an appetite. I’m too busy puking all the time. What’s the point of eating if it’s just going to come back up?”

“The point is that you’ve got my kid inside of you and they’re relying on you to keep them alive. Don’t be like this.” He grabs the fork and uses it to scrape and push all of the food into the middle of the plate; mixing together the generous helping of wild rice, pieces of chicken breast, and mixed vegetables before sliding it towards her. 

“You want me to eat it now that it actually looks like something I’d puke up?”

“It’s all the things you like. It’s why I ordered it. That’s the stuff you CAN stomach when you’re pregnant. Why are you being like this?”

“Why are you being such a dad?”

“Why are you being such a brat?” he counters, then nods down at the plate. “Eat it. Please.”

“Now I know where TJ gets it from. Bossing people are and then adding a cute little ‘please’ at the end.”

“Kind of like how I know both TJ and Millie get being obstinate from you.”

“Touche,” she grumbles, then grabs the small carton of chocolate milk that sits on the table; taking a long pull through the straw before once more digging into the food. 

He can’t help but grin at the way she aggressively stabs at the pieces of chicken with the fork . “You’re imagining that’’s my face, aren’t you.”

“I quite like your face, husband. I certainly wouldn’t imagine something like THAT. Maybe smothering you in your sleep with your pillow. Or slipping arsenic into your coffee.”

“You watch way too many true crime shows on Netflix.”

“Reruns of CSI, actually. I’m pretty sure I could commit homicide and not leave a single trace of evidence behind.”

“Okay, take it easy now, John Wick. I’m the killer in the family, remember?”

“Don’t even start. You know how much I hate it; you saying shit like that. That’s not all you do. Or did. It drives me fucking nuts that you think that way about yourself. You’ve helped more people than you’ve hurt. Way more.”

“Babe, it was a joke. That’s all it was. Let’s not fight, okay?” Reaching out, he takes hold of her hand and turns it palm up; the tips of his fingers softly gliding along each of her short, slender digits and then over her palm. “I don’t want to fight,” he says, and takes her hand in hers; squeezing tightly before repeatedly brushing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. 

“I’m not trying to fight with you, Tyler. I’m just…” she violently spears a piece of broccoli and pops it into her mouth. “...pissed off.”

“At me?”

“No. Not at you. I have no reason to be pissed off with you.”

“So what is pissing you off then?”

“Everything. Every little goddamn thing and every big fucking thing. Everything we’ve been through. Not just the last month but the last seven years. Every asshole that you’ve had go up against and every stranger you’ve helped with not even a fucking thank you for putting your ass on the line. Did any of them even give a shit? That you were out there risking your life to save theirs? Did any of them give a fuck that you had a wife and kids at home?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I told them about my personal life. I tried to keep that separate; job me and home me. So people wouldn’t know about you and the kids. So some sick fuck with an axe to grind wouldn’t come after you or our babies.” 

“A lot of good it did. They still found out who I was. They still found where we were. First Sydney, then Colorado, Now Cooktown. We can’t keep running. We can’t pack up our kids and take off every time some dick head with a grudge wants to settle some bullshit score.”

“We won’t have to. That’s over. I won’t be doing that anymore; going out into the field and getting myself stabbed and shot at. It’s done. That part of my life. Strictly behind the scenes from here on out.”

“And what’s going to stop someone from finding out you’re the one who hired the mercenaries? That you’re the boss and you’re the one who sent the hired guns to their doorstep? What stops them from finding that out?”

“Nothing. There’s no way of stopping that. But if something like that DOES happen and someone decides to pull that kind of bullshit, at least I’m home. Not thousands of miles away. I may be a fucked up mess right now, but I can still protect you. And my kids.”

“I know you can. I don’t doubt that. I have never doubted that.”

“And there’s people that can help. Keep you guys safe. IF it comes to that. Is that what you’re pissed off about? The job?”

“I’m pissed off about what it did to you. I’m pissed off that Nathan turned out to be a psychotic piece of shit. I’m pissed off that you had to go to Dhaka. AGAIN. That you had to go back to that goddamn shit hole and put your ass on the line to protect mine. For a second time.”

“Esme, I would have went wherever the threat was. It just happened to be there.”

“Yeah, because that’s what they wanted. Mahajan and Asif’s people and Nathan. They wanted you there because they knew that place was a chink in your armour. They knew it didn’t kill you the first time, so how poetic would it be if it managed the second time?”

“But it didn’t. It didn’t manage.”

“But it almost did!” she cries, and tosses the fork down onto the plate. “It almost DID kill you. And I’m having a really fucking hard time with it. That it happened AGAIN. That you almost died. AGAIN. I’m not dealing with it well at all. I can’t sleep because it’s all I think about; hearing you on the phone and seeing you that first night. All those doctors telling me you wouldn’t make it. Saying how they hoped you had a will and I should be planning your funeral. And then there’s the fucking guilt.”

“What the hell do you have to feel guilty about it?”

“The first time was for me, right? Trying to get me off the bridge. That’s why you almost died the first time.”

“Yeah, if you WANT to put that way. I guess…”

“And the second time was because of me too. Because you wanted to protect me.”

“And my kids,” Tyler adds.

“It wouldn’t have happened if I never called you. To tell you about that letter. If I hadn't called you, you would have had your full attention on Nathan…”

“Jesus Christ, Me. Is that really what you think? That it was your fault? Because I said that when I pissed off and in pain and depressed? I didn’t mean it. I told you that. I say shit when I’m upset. And unfortunately, you’re the one that always pays the price. But I never meant it. I would never...ever...hurt you like that.”

“I should have known that the first letter wasn’t real. I’ve always been smarter than that. Always.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. And that was an easy one to make. It looked real. I saw it. There’s no way you could have known it wasn’t.”

“I don’t make mistakes like that. Just like you don’t make mistakes when you’re on the job.”

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes, believe me.”

“It was stupid and it was foolish and because I believed it , you thought Nathan was the real deal; we had no reason to think he was a threat. And you ended up in Dhaka and everything went bad just like it did the first time. It’s like that place is cursed; we can’t get away from it no matter how hard we try. It’s like it’s always there; reminding us of how bad things were. And how much worse they could have been.”

“Good things happened there too. It wasn’t all bad.”

“That place almost killed you. Twice. What good could there possibly be?”

“Us. Our daughter. If there’d never been a Dhaka, if we’d never gone there, we wouldn’t have what we have now. There’d be no us. There’d be no Millie. None of our kids would even exist. WE wouldn’t exist. And you know what? I’d get shot in the fucking neck and I’d let Nathan torture the shit out of me a million times over if it meant I’d have you and my kids.”

She opens her mouth to respond, then clamps it tightly shut; lips pursed together and her chin beginning to tremble as tears flood her eyes. He hates seeing her like that; nothing else in the world capable of destroying his heart quite like the way seeing her cry does. And it takes a lot to get her THAT emotional; a small handful of certain triggers that immediately set her off. Dhaka is on that list; part one AND two. After any threat -physical or otherwise- made towards him or the kids. Yet it's the first time that in seven years that he HASN’T been wracked with guilt for making her feel this way. Experiencing no regret, remorse, or shame; no feeling of personal, sole responsibility for her current state. Just the pain that comes with seeing the person you love -more than life itself- hurting so badly. And when she puts her hands over her face in an attempt to stifle the sobs that escape, he slides his chair closer to hers; a hand on either side of her face as he presses his lips to her brow. 

“It’s okay, Me.” He brushes his thumbs over the swells of her cheeks and then slides his hands around to the back of her neck and down to her shoulders. Palms lightly skimming down her arms and back up again; fingers curling around her slender wrists. “Everything’s okay.”

“Everything is NOT okay. Everything is so far from okay. How is any of this okay?”

“Could be worse. You could’ve had to hold a funeral.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. Why would you even say that?”

“It’s true, right? That’s what all the doctors were preparing you for. Aren’t you glad you didn’t have a reason to listen to them?”

“Of course I am glad about that. I’m glad they were wrong. That they totally underestimated you. But that doesn’t mean everything is okay.”

“Hey….” he gently pries her hands away from her face. “...look at me. Please.”

Her eyes flutter open, and he places her hands on her thighs before cradling her face in his palms; thumbs clearing away the tears that sit on the tops of her cheeks. 

“Talk to me. What the fuck is going on with you? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“I’m hormonal as fuck.”

“Well I know THAT. I’m used to that. I’ve only been through this how many times? I mean everything else. Your brain’s all over the place; talking about the job and Dhaka and Mahajan and Asif and just a whole bunch of other shit. What’s going on? Tell me.”

“Everything.”

“What’s ‘everything’? I can’t help you if I don’t know what ‘everything’ is.”

“I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

“A lot.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer for anyone over seven. You can do better than that.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? Is there a reason to be?”

“I knew. About what Doctor Klein was going to tell you. About the diagnosis. And you asked on Friday what he talked to me about; when he ran into me when I was leaving the hospital the day of our first appointment. I already knew what he was going to say and I didn’t tell you. I wanted to. I really did. I wanted to prepare you for it. And I didn’t.”

“And you think I’d be mad about that?”

She nods. “Because I didn’t tell you.”

“Baby, it wasn’t up to you to tell me. That’s way out of your wheelhouse. I have no reason to be mad at you. And it takes a hell of lot for me to get pissed off with you, you know that.”

“Why are you so calm about this? About what he said? I thought I’d be the level headed and rational one and you’d be freaking out and emotional. But you’re not. You’re just so calm about the whole thing.”

“Would you rather I wasn’t? You’d rather I flip out and lose my shit?”

“No,” she sniffles. “Not really.”

“Then what the fuck, Me? What is going with you?”

“This is serious, Tyler. What you have is serious. It’s never going to go away.”

“Yeah, I know that. You’re not telling me something I don’t already know,”

“You’re going to have to take meds and go to therapy. Probably for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, and…?”

“And you’re not the least bit freaking over that? How are you not upset about this? This is something lifelong. There’s no magic pill that can make this disappear. It’s not something we can fix. How are you so calm about that?”

“I don’t know. I just am. It’s not like it was a secret that there was something wrong with my brain. We’ve known that for years.”

“And we thought we dealt with it. We got a diagnosis. PTSD and depression and anxiety. That’s what they said back then.”

“And they were wrong. What more do you want me to say? Tell me what you want me to say, baby. Tell me how you want me to react. What I can do to calm you the fuck down? Tell me.”

“Like I said, I’m just scared. About what this means. About how it’s going to affect us. How it’s going to affect our kids.”

“I don’t have those answers. I don’t think anyone does. We just deal with it. We find out whatever we can, we talk to other people that are going through this, I take meds and see a shrink. What more is there to do? That’s pretty much it.”

“You heard what he said. About some of the things that could go bad, How sometimes people snap or get into a ‘mood’ and they get mean and aggressive. Sometimes they even get violent.”

“Is that what you’re worried about? What scares you the most?”

She nods. 

“You’re worried I’ll lose my shit and hurt you. Or the kids.”

“I don’t want to think that way about you. I feel like shit for even bringing it up. But if you don't know what you’re doing and you do snap, you could do some serious damage. You could hurt me. Badly.”

“At the risk of scaring you more, I’d probably kill you. Very easily. Is that what you’re worried about? That I will?”

“I don’t want you getting to that point. Because that’s NOT you. You’ve never been mean or violent. I’ve never been scared of you. You’ve never given me a reason to be. And when I think about things going wrong and you getting like that…”

“Do you think maybe we should separate for a bit? Until we can get all this shit worked out? So I can get on the right meds and be stable and…”

“No. That’s not what I want. We did that once. I do NOT want to do that again. I WON’T do it.”

“That was an entirely different situation. I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to be a threat to you or the kids. That is it the LAST thing I want.”

“You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I. You are NOT going to push me away, Tyler Rake. You tried that once; seven years ago. I wasn’t scared or intimidated then, and I’m sure as hell not going to be scared or intimidated now. If it didn’t work then, what the hell makes you think it’s going to work now? After seven years and five kids and this one,” she nods down at stomach. “I love you way too much to just let you push me away. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He places a hand on either side of her baby bump and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “I don’t want to get rid of you at all.”

“Then you get the idea of pushing me away out of your head right now. It’s never going to work. You can’t scare me. No matter how hard you try. So stop that bullshit before it even starts, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, and places a kiss on her forehead. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to deal with this like we’ve dealt with a lot of other bullshit.”

“Not very well?” she chides.

He smirks. “Don’t be a smart ass. We’ll deal with it together. We’re stronger together than we are apart, right?”

Esme smiles. "You’ve always said that.”

“Because it’s true. We learned that pretty quick. In Dhaka.”

“Even then we made a pretty good team. For two people that initially bonded over angry sex.”

“That first time WAS pretty angry. And pretty fucking awesome.”

“Yeah, it was. I’ll give you that. You were on your game that day. And you haven’t disappointed me since. Well there was that one time. After Kyle’s bachelor party. The drunk, sloppy sex.”

“It wasn’t THAT bad. I got off.”

“Yeah, YOU did. And then you fell asleep before I got mine. I haven’t forgiven you for that, you know. You passing out before I could get off. That is some fucking nerve, husband.”

“In my defense, I WAS drunk.”

“You were VERY drunk. You were ‘passed out on top of your tiny, wee little wife’ drunk. I had to shove you off. You’re a giant; you were crushing me.”

“Is that why I woke up on the floor?”

She gives a sheepish smile. “I may have shoved you a little too hard.”

“A little? I split my forehead open on the corner of the night table. I had to get stitches.”

“Three. Hardly anything compared to what you’re used to. And that’s a small price to pay for not getting your wife off. I even gave you a blow job BEFORE that. And that’s how you repay me? By denying me an orgasm?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I CAN make it up to you. When I get home on Friday.”

“Have you figured it out? How you’re going to manage that? With that thing on your leg?”

“Not yet. But I’m working on it. The offer still stands; about sitting on my face.”

She grins. “That’s kinky.”

“We’ve done it before. And it’s probably the least kinky thing we’ve done.”

“You’ve totally corrupted me,” she playfully laments, and then presses a kiss to his lips. “I was a good girl before I met you.”

“I call bullshit. Remember those five days? You let me do some pretty dirty, questionable shit to you.”

“You weren’t complaining about it then.”

“I’m not complaining about it now.,” he says, and kisses her. “Are you alright? You good?”

“Not really.,” she admits with a weak smile. “But I will be. WE will be.”

“Yeah. We will. Now…” he pushes his chair backwards and slides the plate towards her. “...eat your goddamn food.”

****

She arrives home a half an hour before the school bus arrives; armed with a sack of dirty laundry from the hospital and plastic bag from the pharmacy with a wide variety of prescription medication. It’s becoming all too real now; the culmination of the most horrifying and worrisome five weeks of her existence and the start of an entirely new journey. Over the weekend, Riley and Ovi had teamed up to get all the work down around the house that needed to be completed before Tyler returned home; the main floor guest room -used as a makeshift office and storage area since they’d moved in- completely emptied and turned into an actual place to sleep; the arrival of a brand new bed -adjustable on the one side to help keep him comfortable while his back, leg, and eventually shoulder continue to heal- and non slip tiling laid on the floor of the ensuite walk in shower. 

The help has taken some of the pressure and expectations off of her; enabling her to continue her daily back and forth treks to the hospital and handle both the finances in regards to the business and in the bills that continue to pour in. She’s used to it; his frequent absences while living in Colorado setting the responsibility of keeping up a home and raising three -eventually four when Declan arrived- children on her own. And she’s even accustomed to the caregiving side of things; filling that role seven years ago when he'd finally been released from the hospital and they’d moved into that little apartment in Sydney.

But for some reason, she’s overwhelmed this time. Seven years ago, things had seemed much simpler; still in the process of getting to know one another and discovering if they could actually tolerate one another and Millie still in the womb. . So much has changed since then; the strength of their love and the bond between them, the addition of four more babies and now another -maybe even two- attempting to grow and thrive inside of her. There’s so much more to lose if things do go bad; it isn’t easy to walk away from that many years loving and worshiping someone, to accept that there are some things that are powerful enough to tear you apart. But she’s determined to make things work. Easing her mind and her heart with one simple fact: if a sniper cutting him down and a bullet to the neck and all of Nathan’s cruelty and torture hadn’t killed him or broken them, nothing else on earth possibly could. They’ll make it work; they’ll accept the new diagnosis and they’ll adjust their lifestyle and learn how to cope. It can’t be fixed, but it can be managed. A dull and tarnished silver lining, but at least one still exists.

Things will improve; he’ll get home and everyone’s moods will lift and the routine and familiarity will start to take hold. Just having him under the same roof will make a world of difference for all of them; the kids will get their ‘daddy snuggles’ again and while not able to be as physically involved with them as before, still able to help with homework and cuddle on the couch and read them bedtime stories. And she’s looking forward to just having him there; being able to see him and talk to him whenever she wants. Missing the sound of his voice and that loving, light hearted teasing that he’s been subjecting her to for the past seven years. Having that warm, solid body to cuddle up to in the middle of the night and the luxury of being comforted after a bad dream; the way those enormous, calloused hands become so gentle when smoothing her hair out of her face or brushing tears off her cheeks. How, when she returns to the bed in the middle of the night after getting up with the baby, he’ll feel that slight sway of the bed and immediately roll over and reach for her. Never speaking and his eyes never opening, but those big, strong arms somehow finding her in the dark; pulling her tightly and securely into him, a heavy leg usually thrown over both of hers and his face burrowing into her hair or in that soft, warm nook between her neck and shoulder. 

All those things you take for granted and never fully appreciate until they’re snatched away from you. Those heavy eyelids and sleepy smile when they first wake up in the morning and turn to look at you. Their voice somehow deeper yet so soft and tender, the fingers that tangle in your hair and pull you in for a long, slow kiss. The little touches throughout the day that let you know they’re thinking about you and love you and want you to know; ; hands placed on your hip or the forearm draped across your collarbone when you’re standing at the kitchen sink or the stove, the reaches across the table to tuck your hair behind your ears or push it off your shoulders. The foot taps or the graze of toes against your shin under the dining table; the tips of fingers briefly coming in contact with your own or sliding over your palm. Simple things that sometimes leave you breathless and yearning for so much more; that somehow seem to communicate more than words ever could. 

Seven years full of little gestures and soft and loving moments; things you wouldn’t expect from a man that’s lived such a traumatic and painful life and has done and seen the things he has. He possesses an incredible tenderness that only she’s been privy to; a quiet thoughtfulness that always lingers just under the surface and makes itself known when she’s least expecting it. He’s not a fan of grand gestures and tends to stick to the smaller things. Always bringing her something back when he runs into town for groceries or trips to the hardware store; whether it’s supermarket flowers or her favourite flavour of cupcake from the local bakery. It’s quietly ‘stepping up’ at home without needing hints dropped. Taking all of the kids down to beach or to a park or even for a drive (sometimes for hours) so she can have a break, being the one to tend to all of the kids’ needs and requests during dinner so she can have a hot meal, bringing her something to drink and snack on while a baby is at the breast. Many nights where he’s woken up despite her being the one to tend to feed; staying awake with her and making sure she’s comfortable or warm enough and giving her that little bit of company. 

He’s always been that way; right from the very first pregnancy, especially. Not hesitating or complaining when she’d wake him at three in the morning while uncomfortable and huge with Millie and asking him if he’d make her something to eat. Going to the store or a drive thru at all hours of the day if she wanted something they didn’t have at home. Catering to her every little whim or unusual craving. Loving her in every way possible; whether through physical touch or sweet gestures or the waiting on her hand and foot. 

He’s been her constant companion. The one person she could rely on and trust completely. The bearer of all her deepest and darkest secrets; her shoulder to cry on and the rock during the more difficult times. Even during their separation, she could call him and he’d be there. Things would be strained and awkward; so many words that needed to come out yet neither of them had the courage to speak. But IF he was around and not away on a job or drunk and passed out, he’d show up; even in the middle of the night when one of the kids had a bad dream or was running a high fever and needed one on one care. Even during their hardest and darkest of times, the bond had always been there. A love and friendship that, despite all of the hurt and anger, never seemed to weaken or vanish. 

Esme misses ALL of that. All of him. Every rough and ragged layer and tattered and frayed edge. Every piece that is perfectly nestled into place and the ones that are still struggling to find its home. Everything that is good and everything that is bad. She accepts and loves it ALL. In the same way he does with her. 

She finds Riley and the two youngest fast asleep on the living room couch; her sister flat on her back with Declan tucked between her and the back of the sofa, and Addie perched upon her chest. It’s been a Godsend having Riley there; the kids enjoying the time spent with her and actually listening and throwing tantrums when she scolds them or corrects their behaviour. They’ve all been struggling; Millie with her teenage worthy attitude problem, Tanner withdrawing even more from being social and losing himself more often quieter, one person pursuits, TJ having trouble sleeping and becoming more clingy and affectionate than usual. It’s been a hell of an ordeal; their little lives turned upside down, prolonged and agonizing separation from their father, their mother home but not very absent in both body and mind. The guilt begins to settle in; remorseful that she hasn’t spent the time with them that they’ve desperately needed in the past three weeks that she HAS been home. But they’re still so little and shockingly resilient; easily forgiving her and never holding grudges and loving her with every fibre of their tiny beings. 

“Not as easy as you thought it would be, huh Ry?” Esme whispers as she gathers the faded and tattered plaid throw off the back of the love seat and lightly drapes it over her sister and the two little ones. “The two smallest ones AREN’T the easiest after all.” 

It’s becoming a struggle to even bend down; the bump becoming even more pronounced seemingly overnight and suddenly always in the way. It’s a sign that she’s well past the first trimester; out of the ‘danger zone’ and in the clear when it comes to anything catastrophic happening. All the babies had been the same; a small and almost weird looking lump up until the end of the third month and then suddenly turning into a perfectly round and smooth mound. Just from that and the increase in movement, she estimates that she’s as early as sixteen weeks and as late as twenty-one; conception either happening right when they first got ‘back into business’ or shortly after. Soon she’ll need help getting her shoes tied and even into the shower; unable to see her own feet or shave her own legs or get comfortable in bed. And she receives a strong kick of protest to the ribs as she leans over to press kisses to her children’s foreheads and the top of her sister’s head. 

“Take it easy little bean,” she says out loud, a hand moving in slow, soothing circles over the right side of the bump. “Or is it beans? Give me a sign or something. That there’s more than one of you in there. So far you’re attacking the same spots all the time. Let me know if there’s more than one of you in there, okay? Find SOME way. I’m impatient; I can’t wait all the way until tomorrow.”

The response is the sensation of the baby -or one of them, anyway- switching positions; creating a pressure in her lower spine as they settle as close as possible to her kidneys.

“That is NOT nice,” she scolds. “That is NOT friends. Why do you do that? Don’t be so naughty. Don’t be so obstinate. Don’t be your daddy.”

Tossing the bag of dirty laundry in front of the washer, heads into the adjoining pantry. It’s in there that all the drugs will be stored; the pain medication having to be kept in a lock box that only she, Riley, and Ovi have the combination to. THAT hurts her heart more than anything else possibly could; able to somehow withstand the uncertainty of his mental illness and his long and painful physical recovery. It’s the reality of living with an addict; having to keep things under the lock and key because they can’t be trusted not to fall back into old habits. And it’s suddenly all too much; the row of plastic prescription bottles -anti depressants, anxiety meds, sleeping pills, antipsychotics- and the lock box and the very detailed ‘medication schedule’ handwritten on the whiteboard that hangs on the back of the pantry door. It’s the unfairness of it all; the harsh truth that Nathan had achieved what he’d set out to do. Break Tyler’s body AND mind. It’s a mix of emotions; anger, heart break, fear, frustration. All mixing together and causing her heart to race and her chest to painfully tighten; sweat beading on her forehead and at the nape of her neck and hot, bitter tears flooding her eyes. And she sinks down to the floor and sits with her legs outstretched and her back against the shelves, hands over her face as she openly weeps.

She’s unsure of how long she’s been sitting there. But the tears have subsided and she is sitting with her eyes closed and her chin tucked into her chest when she hears it; Addie’s giggling and babbling and the sound of Declan’s heavy footfalls getting closer to the door.

“Momma!” He bursts through the open door and before she can react he’s on top of her; settling himself on her thighs yet so gentle and mindful when he leans into her to wrap his arms around her neck. “Momma,” he chirps, and presses a series of noisy kisses to her cheek.

“Hey gingerbread,” she ruffles that bright red hair and holds his face in her hands and kisses his lips. He’s so cute. Thee hair and the freckles and those enormous gray eyes; the chubby cheeks and the multitude of facial expressions inherited from his father. He’s a big boy; broad shouldered and solid as hell and freakishly strong. But so gentle when need be. “You have a good day?”

“Played in the sand. Went swimming. Saw shark.”

“You saw a shark? Where?”

“In the water.” He leans back and holds his hands as far apart as he can, eyes widening. “Big one. Real big.”

“You saw a real big shark, in the water, close to the house?”

He nods enthusiastically and widens his arms even more. “Huge!”

“You’re fibbing.”

“No fib. Big shark. Jaws.”

“Okay, that’s a story your daddy made up to scare you guys from going near the water by yourself. There is no Jaws. And there’s no sharks close enough to the house for you to see them. What did you really see? A big fish?”

“Shark. For sure.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Mum, it was a shark. Big one. That squeaks. And jumps.”

“That’s a dolphin, gingerbread. Not a shark. There’s a big difference.”

“Look like shark, though. Eat me?”

“No. It won’t eat you. Dolphins don’t eat people.”

“But…” he gives a devilish grin. “...feed Millie to shark.”

“Okay first off, there’s no shark. There’s a dolphin. Second, no feeding your sister to wild creatures.”

“Not the dingoes?”

“Not the dingoes, either. Sorry. I can’t let that happen.”

“Daddy said dingoes eat bad kids.”

“Well then you’re in big trouble then, aren’t you. Dingoes are going to come for you for sure.”

He places his hands on his hips, chin tucked into his chest and eyes narrowed. “You’re crazy, mum. I’m good.”

“You’re a good boy only in your own mind, gingerbread. But I love you. No matter how naughty.”

“I love you,” he gushes, his eyes crinkled as a broad smile spreads across his face. “Favourite mommy.”

“I’m your ONLY mommy.”

“Still my favorite. Daddy home?”

“Not yet, gingerbread. Soon.”

“How soon?”

“Four sleeps.”

He frowns. “Too many.”

“I know. I wish it was no sleeps and he was here right now. But just a little while longer, I promise.”

“How many sleeps ‘til Santa?”

“A heck of a lot more than four, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Hey, MeMe,” Riley calls as she approaches the pantry. “I was wondering if you wanted to…” she pauses in the doorway, words trailing off as she sees her sister’s tear stained face and pained expressions. “...hey Declan…”

He glances over. “Me?”

“That’s your name isn’t it, Rusty? How about you come with me to check the mail. Then we’ll wait for the school bus. Maybe get some ice cream when everyone gets home. Sound good? Let’s give mommy some time alone. She needs it.”

“Be back,” he promises Esme, and gives her a sloppy kiss on the lips before sliding off her lap. “No wedgie!” he orders, as he stands in front of his aunt, glaring up at her and pointing an angry finger.

“I promise I will NOT give you a wedgie. Only if you promise not to give me a wet willie.”

He sighs heavily. “Really?”

“Want your underwear pulled up the crack of your ass again?”

Fine!” he huffs, and then stomps out of the pantry. 

“Don’t get pissy with me little Tyler,” Riley warns.

“That’s NOT my name!”

“No. But you sure as hell look and act like him. Go. Haul ass. Get your shoes on.”

“No shoes. Bare feet!”

“Whatever. Go. Move it, Marmalade.”

“And you thought Millie and TJ were handfuls,” Esme says.

“Let’s go!” Declan bellows from the front foyer. “Move it or lose it!

“Rusty is still my favorite,” Riley grins,, and then gives a comforting smile and blows a kiss before closing the pantry door.

******

It’s not until she hears the rapping of knuckles against the pantry door that she realizes she’d fallen asleep; sitting up with her head tilted at an awkward angle and her hands resting on her bump. 

“Mommy?” Tanner’s voice from the hallway, followed by the rattle of the door knob. “Are you alive?”

“Of course she’s alive,” TJ pipes up. “She’s old, but she’s not THAT old.”

“Excuse you,” she retorts. “I’m not old.”

“We brought you ice cream,” Tanner says. “With lots of sprinkles on it. Sprinkles always cheer you up.”

“And I got you these…” TJ adds, and she looks over as a handful of tissues slide under the door. “...so you can wipe your nose and your eyes. In case you’re crying.”

“Maybe we should call daddy,” Tanner sounds worried and anxious. “She’s been in there a long time. If we can’t get her out, daddy will know how. Daddy ALWAYS knows how to cheer mommy up. Should we call him?”

“No!” Esme objects. “No calling daddy. I’m fine.”

“Then open up,” TJ orders, then softens his tone. “Please?”

“We want to see you,” Tanner says. “We want to give you your ice cream. I can’t slip THAT under the door.”

“Please mom?” TJ rattles the door knob. “Please let us in? We just want to snuggle you.”

“Maybe you can break the door down,” Tanner suggests.

“I’m five, Tanny! I’m big but I’m not THAT big.”

“Daddy could break the door down.”

“Daddy’s a giant. And he’s super strong. Besides, he’s not here so…”

“Ovi could break the door down, I bet. Want me to go and get him?”

“No one is breaking the door down,” Esme says, and then waddles on her knees across the pantry and flicks open the lock. “Back up.” She waits until their shadows diminish and then pushes open the door. “You two are very demanding, you know that?”

“We just wanted to see you and make sure you were okay,” TJ says, shouldering his way past his brother to get into the room. “Are you? Okay?”

“I’m fine, baby-man. I promise.”

“See?” Tanner holds out the dish of ice cream. “Your favorite. Tons of sprinkles. Daddy always gets you tons of sprinkles so we did too.”

“You two are so much like him. I swear. Thank you, ” she presses a kiss to each of their cheeks as they lean over her. “There’s some awful big hearts in those little bodies.”

They settle down next to her; a small body tucked closely on either flank. The sides of their heads resting against her arms as she obliges them by digging into the ice cream and listens to their quiet back and forth conversation; Tanner talking about global warming and damages to the environment and TJ asking a million and one questions. Both so beautiful and so different; the oldest twin long and lanky and the youngest much shorter and broader. One hyper and extremely active and athletic, the other quiet and contemplative and very ‘book smart’. Yet their bond is remarkable; Tanner admiring and worshipping his older brother and never realizing TJ is doing the same towards him.

“I don’t understand,” TJ says. “It doesn’t feel warmer outside. It’s always hot here. Like seventh layer of hell hot.”

“That’s not what I mean by global warming, Teej. Over the past twenty years, the earth has gotten significantly warmer. Maybe we can’t notice it because we’re only five, but I bet mommy and daddy notice. They’re older than twenty. Mom , do you notice that the earth has gotten warmer since YOU were a kid?”

“I guess. I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well scientists say it has. I asked Alexa, and she says it’s gone up by full ten degrees. Fahrenheit. That’s quite a bit.”

“I asked Alexa to make fart noises every time Millie talks to her,” TJ grins. “We are NOT the same, Tanny.”

“Not to mention, the icebergs are melting at an alarming rate. That’s not good. Not good AT ALL. It is going to have an enormous ecological impact. It’s mind blowing, how humans screw up the earth so badly.”

“You are way too smart,” TJ declares., and plants his feet on the floor and pulls his knees into his chest. He’s all long, tanned limbs and enormous feet and hands. Those blue eyes seeming even more brilliant against his deeply tanned skin and the locks of sun bleached hair that fall across his forehead. And he’s clad in his usual after school attire; a pair of baggy board shorts and no shirt. “I’m jealous.”

“Well I’m jealous of you too. You’re tall and strong like daddy. And you play sports really well. I’m short like mom. And I can’t play sports for shit. And you surf really well. I’m scared of it.”

“Sports isn’t everything, Tanny. And I can’t make a career out of surfing.”

“You could be a pro surfer. Daddy said there’s such a thing. Remember when he took us to watch those guys in Brisbane? Those were pros. Or you could be a professional football player.”

“I need a REAL job. What if I get hurt and I can’t do sports anymore? I don’t want to be unemployed and living back at home with mommy and daddy.”

“You can go to school AND play sports. One doesn’t negate the other.”

TJ frowns. “What does negate mean?”

“It means they don’t erase each other. You can do BOTH.”

“Maybe I’ll become a policeman. Or a bush fireman. Or maybe I’ll join the army.”

“How about no to that last one,” Esme says.

“Daddy was in the army,” TJ points out.

“He was in special forces,” Tanner informs his brother. “Not just the regular old army. He was in SASR. They’re like the best of the best. Not just anyone gets into them. Daddy had to work really hard to get into them. I watched something on youtube about them. The stuff you have to go through when you join. A lot of people don’t even pass it. Daddy passed it, though.”

“Because, like I said, he’s a giant and he’s really strong. I mean, he can kill someone with his bare hands. A hundred different ways. That’s pretty awesome.”

“How about we NOT talk about killing people?” Esme suggests. “By the way, where’s my snuggles? I thought snuggles came with this ice cream?”

The twins happily commit; perching on her thighs and each wrapping arm around her neck and resting their heads on her shoulders. 

“You guys are the best.” She curls an arm around them and tightly squeezes; kissing one forehead and then other. “I love you guys so much, you know that? So very, very much. You are two of the best things that ever happened to me. I remember when I found out about you guys; that I was having TWO babies at once.”

“Were you happy?” Tanner asks, as he repeatedly twirls strands of her hair around his fingers.

“At first I was very surprised. I was NOT expecting two of you, that’s for sure. And then I got to hear your heartbeats and see you guys moving around in my belly. It was amazing. You were both so beautiful. You still are.”

“Was daddy happy?” TJ inquires. “When he saw us?”

“Well first he almost had a heart attack when he realized there were two of you. But yeah, he was very happy. Especially when he found out both of you were boys.”

“Because of Austin, right?” Tanner nestles his cheek into her shoulder. “Because that was daddy’s first boy and he died.”

“Exactly. Daddy didn’t think he’d ever have ANY kids, never mind TWO sons at the same time. So he was very happy. He cried. Especially when you guys were born and he got to hold you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him THAT happy. He loved you guys at first sight. Right when he got to see you on that first ultrasound. He was so proud of himself. Two babies at once? That’s quite the feat.”

“Do you think the new baby is a boy or a girl?” TJ asks. 

“I don’t know. What do you guys think?”

“I don’t want any more sisters. Addie is alright, but Millie. I can’t handle another Millie.”

“I don’t care either way,” Tanner says. “Boy, girl. One of each. Doesn’t matter to me.”

“One of each? You think there’s more than one?”

“I’m a twin, mom. Twins know these things. Right, Teej?”

He nods. “Definitely more than one. I can tell.”

“I think you’re both full of it. And thank you; for the ice cream and the snuggles. And the tissues.”

“Why are you sad?” Tanner inquires. “Is something wrong with daddy?”

“Nope. Daddy’s fine. I just miss him.”

“You see him ALL the time.”

“It’s not the same. I miss having him here. With us. Being able to see him when I want, talk to him when I want. Hear him tease me about being short.”

“I like when he calls you an ankle biter,” TJ laughs. “It always makes me laugh.”

“Or when he says he can pick her up and put her in his pocket,” Tanner grins. “That’s so cute.”

“Hey, you’re short too,” Esme reminds. “And you…” she tickles TJ underneath the ribs. “...just because YOU’RE absurdly tall…”

“I got the giant genes. I can’t help it.”

“You’ve BOTH got amazing genes. You’re both so much like your dad. Which is a good thing. A very good thing.” She places a kiss to one forehead, then the other. “What do you say we go and get everyone else and go out for dinner? Maybe drive into Cape Tribulation and see daddy for a bit? How does that sound? Want to go see him?”

Both twins nod enthusiastically. 

“I love you both so much. I’ll love you always and forever. With everything I have.”

“We love you mommy,” TJ says, and wraps his arm even tighter around her neck. “So much.”

Smiling, she gives them each a kiss on the top of their heads and pulls them even closer into her. Holding as tight as she possibly can.


	111. Chapter 111

Even without the help of additional medication, he manages to sleep through the later part of the afternoon and well into the early evening. Worn out both physically and mentally. His still healing body exhausted from nearly two weeks of daily, hour long physiotherapy appointment and his mind bruised and battered and nearly destroyed by years of doing battle with it; the recent diagnosis only adding insult to injury. The seriousness of the situation hadn’t set in right away; the life altering ramifications and what it means for his entire family not beginning to set in until he no longer had a distraction to indulge in. Having Esme there had enabled him to push his own issues onto the back burner; focusing on helping her and trying to solve her problems as opposed to dwelling on the news that had been dropped into his lap. And it makes him feel as if he’s still useful; his body broken and his brain beyond repair, but still able to provide some form of care and comfort to his wife. It helps repair the ego and confidence that had been stripped away and damaged when Nathan had achieved what no one else ever could; breaking his body, mind, AND spirit. Seeing the way she still looks at him as if he’s the most incredible man on the face of the earth; as if he’s still the strongest and bravest person she’s ever met and that he can -even while not anywhere near a hundred percent- still protect and make her feel safe and secure. It’s all still there in her eyes and in the way she kisses and touches him; respect, love and lust mixed with that blind faith and enormous trust. 

The fear still remains; he’ll wake up one day and NOT see all of that Affection and love replaced with immense pity and regret. One day maybe she will think less of him and see him as not even half the man he was when they’d first met. Viewing her years with him as wasted and regarding him as a burden; begrudgingly staying with him until all the kids are out of the house and then cutting any and all ties to him. It would kill him. Both seeing and feeling the change and then eventually losing her all together. And it makes him feel pathetic; loving someone and needing them THAT much. Having to rely on another person to fill a void in your heart and your life; them becoming the ultimate ‘chink in your armour’. His father had always warned him about that; losing the part of himself that could fully function on his own and becoming dependent on another person -especially a woman- for fullness and happiness. Men didn’t allow things like that to happen to them. Not REAL men, anyway. Even if they did allow themselves to feel love, they sure as hell didn’t show it or express it; that enabled someone to catch them with their guard down and take advantage of you. 

Even Gaspar had warned him about it; that night at his place in Dhaka seven years ago. Confronting Tyler about ‘the girl’; stating that it was obvious that there was something going on and that it was starting to negatively affect him. It was all in his eyes; the way he looked at her when she spoke or walked into the room, the way he’d keep a cautious and protective gaze on her at all times. His face apparently ‘softened’ whenever she came near him; even smiling when she’d innocently and softly touch his arm or casually brush against him. That was all Gaspar had needed to see; accusing Tyler of becoming weak and soft and allowing ‘some girl’ to get under his skin and grab by the balls. It took less than an hour for him to attempt to plant the seeds of doubt in Tyler’s mind; reminding him of how ‘fucked up’ he was and how no woman would stick around to put up with it. Things always seem good at the start; your ego stroked and inflated by how much they want you and can’t get enough of you and they accept each and every piece of you. Until time drags on and they get to know the REAL you. The sides that aren’t so pretty; the hair trigger temper and the mounds of baggage and the troubles with bad vices and addiction issues. Once they get to experience all of that, things start to deteriorate; they start thinking less of you and get annoyed by your presence and disgusted by what you do for a living and the smell of alcohol on your breath and the painkiller induced haziness you always operate under. And they’ll walk out of your life; leaving you even more broken than you were before.

“Two broken people cannot make a whole,” Gaspar had drunkenly reasoned. “They’ll only drag each other down and make things even worse. Make EACH OTHER worse.”

Tyler hadn’t said much in response; nursing at a glass of scotch and nodding slowly at his friend’s words, annoyance and rage simmered inside of him. It had been a hell of a long day. He was tired and aching and hungry and all he’d wanted to do was go upstairs and let his guard down even for half an hour. Climb into that small and cramped twin bed and pull that tiny, warm body tight against his. No need for anything other than that; face buried in her hair as he breathed in her now familiar scent and felt that smooth skin against his own. Just hold her; shut out the rest of the world and pretend that it was some other time and some other place. But instead he’d found himself humouring his friend’s drunken rambles and outrage over something that was none of his fucking business; his patience wearing thin and his temper on a slow boil. And his anger hadn’t been because Gaspar had been shit talking him, but because he’d started attacking HER; a woman that had come into his life and made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. If ever. Who his instincts had told him was good people; he could trust her and open up to her and let her see him for everything he was and what he could and couldn’t give her. 

In the same way she had with him.

“What is wrong with you?” Gaspar had continued. “Why can’t you see it for it’s worth? What SHE’S worth? She’s using you; sucking your dick and letting you fuck her so she gets safe pasage out of Dhaka. She won’t survive without you. She knows that. And she’s pulling out all the stops and you’re falling for it. For HER. Do you really think someone like that…'' he'd motioned towards the stairs with his glass of scotch. “...would want someone like you? A guy with your issues? You kill people for money. You’re a drunk. An addict. Why the hell would a girl like her waste her time with a guy like you? She’s got you by the balls and you don’t even realize it. Cut the ties now. Before it’s too late. Before she leaves you even more broken and fucked up than you already are.”

It was then that he’d had enough; pushing his chair back from the table and walking away before he did react. Badly. He didn't need to hear anymore; nothing Gaspar could say would change either his mind or the things he was feeling for it. It was terrifying but welcome; experiencing that level of attraction -to someone’s body and mind- and knowing they were the same things for you. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to feel anything. He’d been going through life severely depressed and drunk and high and suicidal; taking jobs in the hopes someone would put him out of his misery because he was too much of a coward to do it himself. Suddenly he didn’t want any of that; he had hope for a future and wanted to get clean and discover what kind of life he COULD have. With her. He wanted to stick to their plan; take what money they would receive and get to know one another as they travelled the world. He wanted her to visit that little shack of his; introduce her to everything that was beautiful and incredible about his homeland. And he wanted to go to Colorado; see the mountains and the snow and get to meet her family and friends. Most of all, he had just wanted her. More time together. More chances to see her smile and hear her voice and experience her laugh. To feel her tiny hands cradling his face when he leaned down to kiss her; those lips soft and supple as they moved against his own. So many things he wanted more of. That he HAD to have more of. And no one was going to deprive him of any of them.

“Do you know how much they’re worth?”

Everything had gone downhill after being asked that. Gaspar had underestimated him and it had shown; believing he’d somehow exchange two innocent lives for money and definitely not expecting that things between him and Esme had revolved past sex. He had no clue about those long conversations they had indulged in afterwards. Baring their souls and sharing their deepest and darkest secrets while angled up in a mess of sweaty limbs and damp and wrinkled sheets. Gaspar had no clue that any of that had even occurred. Or the depth of just what Tyler had been feeling towards her. Sometimes it’s a blur; turning down the offer followed a fight in the kitchen, Gaspar ready and willing to kill him and Ovi stepping up to save all their lives. Other times it is still so vivid; the rage, the hurt, the betrayal. He had done the right thing; turning down the money favour of putting his life on the line to save theirs. And he’d do it all again. In a heartbeat.

Thoughts of that night at Gaspar’s had morphed into the moments on the bridge; bringing with it panic and anxiety. He’d attempted to ward them off; distracting himself from all thoughts of Dhaka by concentrating on the various pamphlets and hand written information that Doctor Klein had sent to his room. But it all become too much when he reached the ‘warning section’ and had been confronted with his worst fear; the reality that he could one day completely and utterly snap and by a very real and dangerous threat to his wife and his children. That’s not who he wants to be; a vicious and abusive husband and a father. Mental illness is no excuse; he refuses to let his own brain turn him into his old man. Or even worse. And that’s when he’d decided to shut down; climbing out of bed and hobbling across the room and throwing all the information in the trash can. Then he’d slept it off. 

Or had at least tried to.

When he wakes it’s to the rumbling of gurneys and the squeak of old and rusting wheelchairs in the hallway. The sun has shifted positions in the sky and doesn’t stream through the curtains with such vengeance; the brilliance dulling and the sky becoming more golden and filling with faint streaks of purple and pink. His dinner tray sits untouched on the bedside; neither the smell nor the appearance appealing enough to tempt him to reach for it. His stomach protests at his laziness; growling noisily and clenching almost painfully. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast that morning; Shanae bringing him a rather greasy yet surprisingly good plate of eggs and bacon from the cafeteria. Since then he’s just been too busy to think about food; days would pass sometimes on a military mission or on a job before he got a meal into him. His body had learned to adapt; surviving on little to no sustenance and sleep for weeks and months at a time. While his body craves the food, his mind is rebelling against the idea; turned off by the sight and smell and the thoughts of the different textures on the plate nearby. And he closes rakes both hands through his hair and tugs tightly on the longer strands; the sensation and the closing of his eyes almost enough to quell the nausea that settles in. 

*****

“Wake up sunshine. Daddy’s home.”

A smirk tugs at his lips; eyes opening and taking in the familiar figure standing in the doorway. “Holy fuck. They’ll let anyone in this place.”

“Hello to you too, asshole,” Koen grins as he saunters into the room; shrugging a heavy backpack off his left shoulder and dropping into the love seat by the window. “I see you’re your regular charming self. Ya miss me?”

“As much as I miss my ex wife and those army rations.”

“You’re fucking cruel, you know that? A regular savage. Why you have to hurt me like that?”

“I thought your feelings went AWOL a long time ago. Along with your sanity and your sobriety.”

“All missing. Like my soul. Look at you…” Koen sidles up to the side of the head and roughly slaps the back of his hand against one of Tyler’s cheeks. “...just when I thought you couldn’t get any uglier, here we are.”

“Needed the change.” He runs both his palms along the sides of his face; the stubble quickly growing in. “Kids hate it.”

“Blame ‘em? You probably scare the shit out of them with that face. How you feeling?” he tousles Tyler’s hair and then roughly grabs a hold of his ears and drops a kiss on the top of his head. “You look good. Better than the last time I saw ya.”

“Feeling alright. Could be better, could be worse. I’m getting around though; able to get ten or twenty feet with no help and without having to stop. So there’s that.”

“That’s a lot of more than anyone thought you’d be doing by now, that’s for sure. How’s the back?”

“Good for the most part. Gets pretty stiff from time to time; pain’s not too bad. Little bit of nerve damage; down into hip and my ass.”

“You’re able to feel your legs and you’ll be able to walk and do normal shit again. That’s all that matters. Considering what I saw and that van and in the ER afterwards…”

“Yeah...well we don’t need to talk about that, do we,” Tyler gives an uncomfortable smile. “How’d it go?”

“In Dhaka?”

He nods.

“Tied up all the loose ends. Went back to the storage place and cleaned it all up; not a trace of Nathan or any of Asif’s people left. No sign any of them were ever there. No sign WE were there either.”

“Any word on the street? If he’s got any more followers hanging around? That might want to avenge him? Last thing I need is one of those little fuckers making their way here. Especially when I’m like this…” he nods down at the ‘cage’ on his legs. “...can’t really defend my family when I’m laid up, can I.”

“No rats that I could stir up. I went back and saw that guy that Esme talked to; the vendor in the market. He put some feelers out for me and picked nothing up either; no one took the bait and not a single soul called my cell or showed up at my hotel room. It’s all quiet there; you’re dead as far as they’re concerned. There’s no sign you ever made it out of there. And if anyone IS still pledging allegiance to Asif, you’re not on their radar. You’re six feed under somewhere as far as they’re concerned.”

“What about Esme?”

“Yaz got into the police and military databases and erased everything they had on her. She’s a ghost. She doesn’t exist anymore. At least not in Bangladesh. The coast is clear; you guys are free to go on with the rest of your lives. You guys are safe. So are your kids.”

“At least from anyone there, you mean.”

“Dhaka is behind you. It’s what you wanted, yeah? That place a distant memory? I took care of it. Like I said I would. You’re good.”

“You get your money?”

Koen nods, then hooks a leg around one of the nearby chairs and pulls it over; toeing off his dusty and well worn combat boots before dropping heavily into the seat. “Your little lady knows what she’s doing; runs a tight ship. She said it would be in the bank in no more than ten hours and it was in there in five. Guess she’s the brains AND the good looks of the operation, huh?”

“You realize no matter how much you kiss her ass, she won’t leave me for you, yeah?”

“What if I kiss something else really well?”

Tyler scowls. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Easy, sunshine. No one is going to try and steal her away. She’d never wander anyway; too much of a fool in love for you. A blind one at that. How you guys holding up with all of this? Things okay?”

“Things are good. We’re doing the best we can. It sucks; being away from her and the kids for so long. I miss her. I mean, she comes every day to see me, but it’s not the same, you know? Not even close to what it’s like when I’m at home.” 

“You guys have been through some shit, that’s for sure. Been a hell of a seven years, huh?”

“It’s been interesting, to say the least. More good times than bad, at least. I don’t know if she feels the same, but…” he shrugs, voice trailing off. 

“What’cha worried about? Something going on with you two? Trouble in paradise?”

“Not with us. Things are okay. We’re doing alright. It’ll get better once I’m home. It’s other things.”

“Everything okay? Is she alright? Baby okay?”

“Not her. Or the baby. Kids are fine, too.”

“You?”

He nods.

“I don’t think I like where this is going. Not to sure I like that look on your face. Not that I ever like your face, mind you. This have to do with seeing that shrink?”

“Yup.”

“Let me guess; you’ve snapped your last shred of sanity and you’re one step away from blood thirsty, cannibal ex murderer.”

“As much as I hate to disappoint, I’m not quite at serial killer level. But it is official. I AM crazy.”

“You didn’t need a shrink to tell you that. I’ve known it for years.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“What did he say? The shrink?”

“He said I have bipolar disorder. Or a version of it, anyway. C-PTSD instead of normal old PTSD. None of it’s good. It’s all shit.”

“But they can be helped? It’s not like there’s nothing that can be done for ya.”

“Meds, a whole bunch of different therapists, lifestyle changes. I need to stay clean. For good this time. No more booze, no more meds. Just cut it all out. . I get back into that shit and they’ll make my brain even worse and things will get triggered and I’ll snap. And I don’t want that to happen. I can’t lose it. I lose my mind, I lose my family. And that’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

“Well, you know what you gotta do. And it’s the shit I’ve been warning you about for years; step away from the alcohol, keep away from the pills. Stop fucking running too; stop worrying about being a disappointment as a husband and a father and stick around. Be a family man. You fucking thrive in that role and you don’t realize it. You have no clue how good you are; with her, with those kids. I’d give anything to have what you do. Someone that looks at me the way she looks at you. Enough is enough, Tyler. You're a husband and a daddy. Time to act like one. Full time. You don’t, you’ll lose everything. That’ll kill you. And I don’t want to be the one that watches that happen; the one that finds your body when you’ve drank yourself to death or put a gun to your head.”

“I don’t want that either. I don’t want to get to that point. I can’t lose my wife and my kids. I won’t lose them.”

“Then get your head out of your ass and grow the fuck up and man up. You’ve got a good life. A damn good life. Don’t piss it away, alright? You got a second chance and you almost blew it. More than once. How fucking stupid are you?”

“Alright, alright. Don’t need to make me feel worse than I already do.”

“Tough love. That’s what you get from me. You know I love you. That I just want the best for your sorry ass. And she’s the best. So are those kids. They're the only reason you’re still here. So that puts them pretty damn high on my good list. Anything I can do? To help out with all this? Help keep you straight and narrow?”

“You’re rich now. You don’t need that shit hole in Kimberely. Ever think of moving closer down here?”

“You want me to move closer?”

“I’m asking the questions here. You ever thought about it?”

“Listen blue eyes, if you want me to be close by, just say so. Swallow your pride and tell me how much you love me; how much you miss me and how much you want me around. Admit your boy crush on me.”

“Even if I did swing that way, you’d be far down on my list of people I’d let near my ass. I do have standards, you know. And besides, I was thinking more along the lines of how it would be nice if my kids had a grandpa.”

Koen scowls. “You ARE a fucking asshole.”

“But yeah, I’ll admit it; it would be nice have you around. I could use the help. With the business. Esme won’t be able to shoulder too much more; not as she gets further along with this baby. I want to lighten her load, not add to it. She’s got enough going on; worrying about me and five little ones and another on the way. I don’t want her worrying about the business too. And if you’re close by…”

“I’ll do anything for you guys. You know that.”

“I’ll even buy you a place. I’ll cover everything. You wouldn’t have to worry about the initial expense.”

“I don’t need your goddamn money. You’re paying me more than enough; I’ve already got quite the nest egg and then some in the bank. And what about the place in Kimberley? It’s still yours; you still own it and the land, I’ve just been shacking up there and taking care of the place.”

“I don’t know,” he winces as he adjusts his position in bed; back stiff and the right leg beginning to ache. It’ll be med time soon; pain killers that adequately take the edge off and don’t leave him feeling like a zombie. “I thought of maybe redoing it. Add on a few rooms, proper electrical and better plumbing, even some central air. Nice play set out back for the kids. A little place we can get away too; feel like we’re on vacation but home isn’t too far.”

“You’ve been thinking a lot about this,” Koen observes.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think. Not much else to do other than staring at the fucking walls. Sound like someone you could do? Move down here? Something you WANT to do?”

“I don’t necessarily want to be closer to YOU, but that little lady and those rug rats of yours….”

“You flirt with my wife once, I chop you up and feed you to the dingoes, hear me?”

“I hear ya, I hear ya. And I’ve got ya; I’ll take good care of you. And I’ve already shown I’m a good nurse; stripping ya naked and throwing your sorry in the shower more than once.”

“I’m sorry about that, by the way. I’m sorry I made your question both your manhood AND your sexuality.”

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Koen reaches out and tousles Tyler’s hair. “I’d kill for ya, though.”

“You already have.”

“Well I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. No questions asked. And he IS dead; good and dead. His body was still there; rotting and stinking up the place. No one will find a trace of him. I made sure of it.”

Tyler nods his approval. “And the other thing? In the Ukraine?”

“That’s where things start to go a little south.”

“How south?”

“Now let me start off on a good note: I DID manage to track down our guy. Yaz was able to lead me right to him; tracking his cell phone signal or his number or however nerds like Yaz manage to do all that crazy shit. Got me right to his doorstep; this little shit hole apartment above a TV repair shop. Watched him for a few days, learned his habits and his routines; waited until I knew he was gone for a couple hours before making my move.”

“What did you find? When you went in there?”

“That’s where things start to go down hill.” There’s a loud, nerve wracking scrape as Koen pushes his chair away from the bed. Using his feet to propel himself backwards; snagging the backpack off the love seat and then returning to his place by Tyler’s side. “I found some pretty interesting and disturbing things,” he says, unzipping the bag and removing a selection of glossy 8x10 photos and a handful of black and white photocopies. “He had these hanging on the wall in the second better,” Koen offers the photos to Tyler. “You’re all in there; you, Esme, the kids. Pictures of you and her in town, ones of the kids at school; getting off the bus and playing with their little friends.”

His jaw tightens as he flips through the pictures. A mixture of rage and disgust quickly spreading through him; the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat. It started as a random text messages sent during all hours of the day; a simple ‘hi, how are you?’ quickly turning into so much more. Claims of knowing exactly who he was and what he’d done and where he lived. Vivid and accurate descriptions of not only what his wife and children looked like, but outfits they’d been wearing that day. Creepy, stalker like behaviour meant to unnerve him and put him on edge. He’d never responded; simply put Yaz and his tech team on the case. But not giving answers or even a simple acknowledgement only caused things to escalate; the perpetrator becoming irate over the lack of attention they so desperately sought. Comments made about how pretty his wife and his oldest daughter were; what a shame it would be if someone came along and made it so neither of them were recognizable anymore. Inquiries made about his sons; if he was teaching them how to be cold blooded killers. Real ‘chips off the old block’. Only then did he react; blind rage caused him to issue threats that he knew he couldn’t back up in his condition. And whoever was on the other end of the line knew that too; knowing what had happened in Dhaka and how close he’d come to death and then he’d been sent to a hospital in Australia. Mocking him on his inability to protect his family. “You’re not so tough now, ARE you? How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine?”

Yaz took over completely from there; filtering every text message and call placed to his cell. Eventually managing to trace the origins to the Ukraine; Koen agreeing to head there to get to the bottom of things as soon as his job in Dhaka wrapped up. 

“You saw this guy, yeah? You were watching him? What does he look like? Describe him.”

“I can do one better. I got a photo of the sick fuck.” Koen thumbs through the remaining pieces of paper in his hand and slides one out, handing it to Tyler. “Here you go. Here’s our boy.”

His chest tightens; nostrils flaring and his hands gripping the paper with enough force to wrinkle and tear it. 

“You know him? Someone you’ve gone up against? Some fuck head you’ve pissed off?”

“Yeah. I know him. That’s Mark. Esme’s ex.”

“Wait...what? Her ex, ex? The first husband? I thought he wasn’t around anymore. Like, pushing up daisies not around.”

“Why is he alive? He’s supposed to be dead. I was told he was dead.”

“Who told you that?”

He smirks. “Nathan. Nathan said he killed him. He came looking for me in New Zealand and found Nathan instead. He said he killed him. All this fucking time he’s been alive. He’s been out there watching me; watching my family. For fuck sakes!” He tosses the handful of papers across the room; putting his hands over his face and attempting to calm himself as photos and printouts flutter to the floor. “Nathan. That fucking piece of shit. He was lying right from the start. Right out of the goddamn gate. He told me he killed Mark and I fucking believed him.”

“You didn’t have a reason to.” Koen says, as he pushes himself out of his chair and calmly gathers up the paper. “You thought the guy was on the up and up; no reason to think otherwise.”

“I told Esme he was dead. That she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. That he got what was coming to him; all the times he hit her and forced her to do shit with him and to him, all the degrading names he called her, all the times he put her in the hospital. I told her that was all behind her now; he was gone and she didn’t have to live her life knowing he was still going on with his. I told her he was gone and she believed me. She trusted me.”

“You told her what you knew; what you were told. You thought he was dead. So you told her he was. This is not your fault. She’s not stupid; she’ll know this isn’t on you.”

“She’s not finding out about this. She can NEVER find out about this. I can’t let that happen; I can’t break her like that.”

“So where do we go from here? What do you want me to do?”

“Take care of him. Go back to the Ukraine. I want him dead.”

“Any particular way or…?”

“Most brutal way possible. And I want proof; I want pictures of his corpse.”

“Yon got it, boss. I’ll head back tomorrow night. I get to play daddy tomorrow; taking your sweet thing to her ultrasound appointment.”

“Not now, Koen, okay? Normally I can handle the comments, but NOT now.”

The other man holds his hands up in surrender. “You still going to show up? She know you’re planning on it?”

“I haven’t said a word. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that a secret to. I’d like at least one happy thing to happen. We deserve it after the fucking month we’ve had.”

“You gonna be alright? This is a hell of a thing to take on on top of everything else. You good?”

“No. I’m not good. I want to break some fucking necks. But I can’t really do that right now, can I. Look at me; I’m a fucking cripple. . I’ve got this fucking thing on my leg and my shoulder’s fucked and my brain is fucked up and I….” he takes a deep, shaky breath. “...I can’t even protect my family right now. I’m useless to them like this. Why the fuck am I supposed to do if someone comes after them? What am I….”

“Daddy!” TJ squeals as he bursts through the open door, and as he throws himself stomach first onto the bed and scrambles up towards his dad, Tyler motions for Koen to put the pictures away. “Hi daddy!” The five years chirps as he kneels between his father’s splayed thighs; long skinny arms wrapped around his neck.

That happy little face and that hug is all he needs, TJ’s mere presence calming him down; his jaw and shoulders loosening as the rage subsides. And he returns the embrace as tightly as his son’s body will tolerate; eyes closed and a hand on the back of the five year old’s head. 

“Are you surprised?” TJ asks, and pulls away, hands clasped together at the nape of Tyler’s neck. “To see me?”

“Pleasantly surprised.” He pecks him on the lips. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you until I got home Friday.”

“Mommy took us out for dinner! I had pizza and wings.”

“My favourite,” Koen pipes up. “You have beer too? Gotta have the beer with it.”

“I’m not old enough to drink! I’m only five, grandpa Koen!”

“Excuse you, Little Tyler. Who the hell you calling grandpa?”

“Daddy said that’s what we’re supposed to call you. ‘Cause you’re old and crotchety.”

“He did, did he?” Koen scowls, and administers a solid slap to the back of Tyler’s head. “Cheeky bastard.”

Within minutes the rest of the kids excitedly flood into the room; bright smiles and happy squeals as they climb onto the bed and shove each other out of the way and begin to squabble about who gets to hug him first. Each mindful of the apparatus on his leg and the need to be careful as they find purchase on the now cluttered mattress; four sets of arms finding their way around his neck or his torso and little bodies pressing themselves tightly against him. It doesn’t erase the anger and the disgust brought on by Mark’s existence, but it does manage to ground him. His children ecstatic to see him; those brilliant smiles and those tight hugs and the kisses pressed to lips and cheeks. All four talking over one another as they go into great detail about the day. The three oldest chattering about school and going for ice cream with Auntie Riley and then out for supper with mum and Declan talking of a shark that he’s adamant he’d seen; those gray eyes wide with excitement as he emphasizes the tale with very animated hand gestures. 

“A dolphin,” Esme says as she steps through the door , Addie already giggling and babbling and reaching for him across the expanse of the room. “He saw a dolphin.”

“Shark,” Declan insists. “Big shark. Jaws.”

“Please tell him that you made that up.” Esme implores. “That we do NOT have an enormous great white swimming near the house. And while you’re at it, stop telling them you’re going to feed them to wild animals.”

“Dingoes,” Declan says, and settles himself under Tyler’s left arm. “Feed Millie to dingoes.”

“Hey!” Millie objects. “Why me?”

“Millie mean,” the red head reasons. “Naughty. All the time.”

She scowls. “Maybe if you guys didn’t get into my shit and piss me off.”

“Alright, enough,” Esme sighs, and places Addie between her husband’s thighs. “You guys were good all through dinner and the drive here; don’t start your shit now. And please tell him, Tyler; that there’s no shark that’s going to eat them.”

“I never said the shark would eat them. I said if they’re bad, the shark demands a sacrifice. He doesn’t eat them without cause.”

She rolls her eyes, then leans down to press a kiss to his lips in greeting. “Here…” she reaches into the oversized satchel style bag slung over her left shoulder and pulls out a styrofoam container of food. “...the steak even has vegemite on it. I don’t ever want to hear you say I never do anything nice for you.”

“Best wife ever,” he declares, and says a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her down into another kiss. 

She smells incredible; that familiar mixture of milk and honey that clings to her hair. The same shampoo she’s been using since they met; once commenting on how much he liked it and how it was so perfectly HER and her sticking to it ever since. He’s sure there’s even more beautiful scents in the world that don’t belong to cheap off the shelf bottles of hair product, but none of them could ever measure up in his mind. That smell is her; it reminds him of being in love and having someone love him in return. It’s HOME. And while she’ll never understand his increased attraction to her while she’s pregnant, she looks as good as she smells; not a single stitch of makeup on her face and clad in a simple white eyelet sundress that ties at the back and accentuates that ever growing bump.

“And look what the cat dragged in,” she says, as she turns to Koen. “There’s a sight for sore eyes. Where the hell have you been? I thought you left Dhaka two weeks ago?”

“Some other things came up. Took a little trip; met a cute little thing in Thailand.”

“I’ve heard the stories of you guys’ times in Thailand. This cute little thing didn’t happen to be a working girl did she?”

“I told you, Freckles, I’m looking for something different. This was a nice young lady; a fine upstanding citizen.”

“Sure it was. I’m just glad you’re back,” she stands on her tiptoes to embrace him. “I was getting worried about you; we hadn’t heard from you in a while. Thought maybe you’d gotten into trouble or something.”

“Just a little time away. Exactly what the doctor ordered. And look at you…” he places his hands on her hips and holds her out at arms length. “...where’d that come from?”

“A lot bigger than the last time you saw me, right? This is what happens when you get pregnant by a giant.”

“What do you got? Three or four in there?”

“Do you want to live to see your next birthday? Don’t put that out in the universe. I’ve already got that one…” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder in Tyler’s direction. “...and two of his spawn thinking there’s more than one in there. Don’t encourage them.”

“It’s definitely twins mum,” TJ says, from where he sits crossed legged at the end of the bed. “I should know; I’m a twin.”

“Twins know things,” Tanner pipes up. “Things people who aren’t twins don’t know.”

“I think you’re both full of it,” she says. “Is everything okay?” She addresses Koen. “ Everything went alright? In Dhaka?”

“Everything's a-okay, kiddo,” Koen assures, and pulls her into another hug. “Not a damn thing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

*****

When ‘Grandpa’ Koen takes the kids down to the gift shop for treats and follows up with a promise of a walk on the beach, Esme climbs into bed alongside him; resting on her hip with both arms wrapped around his torso and her head on his chest. It feels good to be that close to him; that warm, slimmer yet still solid body against hers, the familiar scent that clings to his skin and clothes, both the feel and the sound of his heart beating. She had come so close to no longer experiencing any of that, and she’s determined to never again to take it...or him...for granted. The silence is welcoming; a chance to simply enjoy each other’s presence without feeling the need for mindless chit chat. Or to revisit the news they’d been given earlier in the day. Their lives have been permanently altered; a new path to tread that neither could have ever expected. It can’t be fixed or cured but it can be managed. And it doesn’t need to dwelled on. It will still be there; in the days and weeks and months. For now they concentrate on the present; that quiet and relaxing moment and the simplicity that comes with it. 

Her eyes are closed when she feels him move against her; finishing the carton of food and then leaning over her to drop it into the bedside garbage can. Smiling when the arm around her tightens its grip and the fingers of his free hand brush hair away from the sides of her face and tuck it behind her ears. Soft lips finding her forehead, then above each eye. Giggling when light pecks rain down on the freckles that splatter the slope of her nose. 

“I can’t believe not one of them got that many freckles,” Tyler comments, and she opens her eyes and looks up at him. She relishes the sensation of that calloused palm cradling her cheek every so gently. A smile playing on his lips and his features softer and and his eyes a slightly lighter shade of blue; so much love and adoration on display as his gaze takes in every inch of her face. 

“I hate my freckles,” she dramatically pouts.

“I don’t know why. They’re adorable.”

“They make me look like I’m twelve.”

“Are you sure it’s the freckles? Or is it because you’re the size of a twelve year old?” he teases.

“That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“You know how you make fun of my huge feet and complain about my snoring and call me a pain in your ass…”

“Insufferable pain in my ass,” she corrects. “Don’t forget the insufferable part.”

“...and you said that it’s said with love?”

“ It IS. Nothing but love.”

“It’s the same as when I make fun of your height. When I talk about picking you up and putting you in my pocket. Or when I call you an ankle biter. I say it with tons of love.”

“What about the time you said I was like an angry goat? Only big enough to head butt someone in the nuts. Or when you compared me to one of those little designer dogs rich women carry in their purses?”

“Always said with love, babe. Lots and lots of love.”

“Sure it is,” she grins, and then throws her back and laughs when his hand slides over her hip and around to her back; slipping down to roughly smack her ass. Giving an ‘ow!’ in protest when he firmly grabs hold. Fingers digging into the soft flesh and his lips finding the hollow of throat; lightly nipping and sucking his way to the side of her neck.

He pulls back and regards her with a devilish grin. “Wanna make out?”

Esme nods enthusiastically. “Wait!” she protests, when he leans in to kiss her. “I’m going to taste vegemite, aren’t I.”

“Suck it up princess,” he jokingly orders, and tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her tightly into him. Hearing when she sighs into the kiss; feeling her body curve into his and her fingernails as they scrape along the bottom of his hair line and sink into the nape of his neck. 

There’s overwhelming need and want but no urgency. It’s short, chaste pecks interspersed with both longer periods of soft kisses -closed mouth open closed mouth - and much hungrier and desperate ones; tongues in each other’s mouths and their chests heaving and their breathing rough and ragged. Clothed bodies pressed tightly together and moving against one another; greedy hands exploring each other’s bodies.

“Excuse me,” she pulls out of the kiss and clamps her thighs shut; trapping the hand that had made its way under the bottom of her sundress. “I didn’t agree to anything under the clothes.”

“What part of making out don’t you understand?”

“Our children could be back any second. The last thing they need to see is you with your hand between my legs, thank you very much.”

“I’ll hear them coming. We’ll stop in time; they won’t even realize what was going on.”

“The door is wide open,” she points out.

“Can’t see the bed from the doorway. No one will know what we’re up to.”

“And if one of your nurses walks in? Or your doctor? And we don’t hear them?”

“Maybe they’ll want to join in.”

She gives a derisive snort and pushes him away. “You need to calm yourself down. What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I want to get into you.”

“Did you figure that out yet? How we’re going to manage that?”

“Not yet,” he admits. “But I’m on it. Something will come to me. I’m resourceful.”

“Well in the meantime, you need to get your hand out from between my legs. None of THAT is happening right now.”

“Party pooper.”

“And there it is…” she runs the pad of her thumb over his lips. “...the infamous pout. The one all your spawn inherited.”

“I do NOT pout.”

“You’re doing it right now, actually. And I even have photographic proof, remember? You DO pout. And you’re so fucking adorable when you do.”

“What did I tell you about calling me the A word?"

“What did I tell you about not giving a shit what you said? You’re adorable, Tyler. You can deny it all you want. But you are.”

“How can I be adorable and bad ass at the same time?”

“You manage very well,” she says, and then pecks his lips; frowning when his fingertips manage to make contact with the crotch of her panties. “You’re very determined.”

“You’re very wet,” he counters.

“Get your hand out of there!” Esme orders, and then playfully tousles his hair when he reluctantly agrees.

“You’re going to give me blue balls,” Tyler mutters. 

“You’ll survive,” she assures him, and he once more wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into him, lips finding her temple. She settles in tightly against him once more; head on his chest and a hand resting on his stomach. “Are you okay?”

“You mean other than being sexually frustrated?”

“You seemed kind of frazzled when we got here. Like you and Koen had been in the middle of something pretty intense.”

“We were just talking.”

“About Dhaka?”

He nods.

“DID everything go okay there? Did all the loose ends get tied up? Or did something go wrong and that’s why you were worked up?”

“I was not worked up.”

She stares pointedly up at him.

“Okay, I WAS. But nothing about Dhaka.”

“If it wasn’t about that…”

“I told him about what the therapist said; the diagnosis and everything that comes with it. I just got worked up talking about. Guess I’m not handling it as well as I was earlier. Kind of a bitter pill to swallow. Thinking we’re dealing with one thing for years and that’s it being treated properly and then to find out it was all for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say it was all for nothing. The therapy you were getting and the meds you were taking were helping in some small way. They just weren’t solving ALL the problems. And I know it sucks; hearing what’s wrong and what it entails and what we’re going to have to go through. But…”

“How is there a ‘but’ in this?” I don’t see how there can be a ‘but’. I don’t think there’s a light at the end of this tunnel.”

“BUT you’re not going through it alone. We know exactly what we’re dealing with now and we know how it needs to be handled. It isn’t a death sentence, Tyler. You’ll be okay. You’ll learn how to deal with it and how to cope. We ALL will.”

“ I hate the thought of the kids finding all this out. About how fucked up I actually am.”

“You’re not ‘fucked up’, okay? You have a legitimate illness. And when you’re home, we’ll sit them down and we’ll BOTH explain things to them. They’re tough and they’re resilient and they’re so smart.”

“I wish they didn’t have to be so tough and resilient,” he says, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“It was always in the cards for them. They have your genes, right? Those are some strong ass genes. Some amazing genes. You’re the strongest and most resilient person I know.”

“You don’t look in the mirror often, do you.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him, hand moving in slow, smooth circles. “WE'RE going to be okay.”

“Not if you keep giving me blue balls, we won’t. That’s ground for divorce.”

“You would never.”

“You’re right…” he smiles down at her, fingertips tracing the patterns of freckles. “...I wouldn’t.”

“Good. Because you can’t get rid of me that easily. You tried seven years ago; scaring me off. And here I am. Five kids later.”

Grinning, he slides his arm down the small of her back and reaches around to place a hand on the side of her bump. “Maybe even seven.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“You heard what the boys said. It’s definitely twins. Twins know things. That non twins don’t know.”

“You know how rare it is, right? Two sets in one family?”

“How rare was it that the boys had what they had?”

“That is a very good point.”

“If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen to us. Haven’t you learned that in the last seven years? When have things ever been normal?”

“We’re not exactly known for doing things normally and conventionally.”

“No. We definitely aren’t.”

“You’re just so proud of yourself aren’t you. Every time I’m pregnant you get that look; that just screams ‘hey look what I did!’ You are just so pleased with your handiwork. This never gets old to you, does it.”

“Never. And you what else never gets old? How fucking beautiful you are. All the time. But especially when you’re pregnant.”

“You have such a fetish,” she teases.

“If that fetish is solely being incredibly turned on by my own wife while she’s knocked up, yeah, I guess do. Trust me; I don’t look at every pregnant woman this way.”

“I’d really question your sanity if you did.”

“Just you, babe. It’s only been just you. It always will be.”

“Don’t you dare make me cry, Tyler Rake. My hormones can only handle so much. And you getting sappy on me? I can’t take it right now. No matter how goddamn cute it is.”

He scowls. “Both the A word and the C word in one day? What have I done to deserve THAT?”

“Just being yourself,” she says. “Now be quiet and kiss me.”

“Now can I put my hand between your legs?”

“Shut up,” she laughs, and then pushes her fingers into his hair and yanks him down into a kiss.


	112. Chapter 112

It’s after midnight when Riley joins her out on the back patio; a glass of white wine in one hand, a mug of piping hot tea in the other. After a day filled with record setting temperatures and stifling humidity, a break had come in the form of a torrential downpour; hovering briefly and aggressively before subsiding to a smooth and steady rain. It lingers even now; the rhythmic pattering against the wood and canvas overhang soothing after such a long and tedious day. The breeze that comes off the ocean is cool and refreshing; bringing with it the heavy and familiar scent of salt and tousling the nearby bushes and the tops of the surrounding trees. She doesn’t even know how long she’s actually been sitting there; listening to the combined sound of the rain and the movement of the water, finding herself lulled into a near hypnotic trance. She’s tired; a mental exhaustion that far surpasses the physical fatigue. Even with a pregnancy safe sleeping aid prescribed by Doctor Klein, rest continues to evade her; enable to turn her brain off entirely, or get fully comfortable in an empty bed. The space suddenly seeming too vast and empty; a painful loneliness sweeping through her the second she crawls under the covers and places her head on the pillow. 

She thought she’d be used to it; she’d spent years having the bed to herself during Tyler’s frequent and often prolonged absences. Quickly adjusting to the little comforts that would make it easier to fall asleep; using his pillow instead of her own, settling her body into the dips and curves and valleys that his own had created, going to bed in one of his cleaner t-shirts pulled from the laundry hamper. His scent had always been her ‘go to’ when she needed to find peace and calm and ground herself. Crisp and clean just like the ocean he loves so much; familiar and masculine and both intoxicating and calming. Before it always helped; wearing one of his shirts or hoodies or sleeping with his pillow. It got her through the long and lonely nights; helping ease some of the worry and the stress that came with hoping he’d manage to come home in one piece. Now it does very little; aside from reminding her how close she’d come to never experiencing that smell again and pointing out all the times she’d taken him...and all the things he does for her and their family and the enormous impact he has on all of them...for granted. 

They’ve both made mistakes. Harsh words said out of anger and hurt, moments spent not appreciating the other and feeling as if they weren’t putting in as much effort and energy to make things work. Too stubborn to see the ‘other side’ and make concessions and sacrifices. None of it had ever been done to purposefully wound the other; both driven by bad memories and experiences and mistakes made during their disastrous first marriages. But they’d always fought through it; eventually caving and calmly and rationally sitting down to talk things out. And the love and respect had always been there; a bond that went far beyond just spouses and two people raising children together. Perhaps in a way, the hardheadedness is exactly why they HAVE made it; neither willing to let any situation break them as individuals or a couple. Neither give up easily; too competitive and resilient to let anything or anyone destroy them. And while normally they both frown upon each other’s stubborn tendencies, that quality has actually served them well in the past seven years; never giving up on another or letting other people break them apart. Loving each other wholly and completely; accepting the good with the bad and never trying to turn the other into someone they’re not. Not just husband and wife but best friends; not just adoring and worshipping and lusting after one another, but genuinely enjoying each other’s company. And it’s rare; finding someone that checks all the boxes. That one person that you can’t live without.

Thinking of him now, she gathers up the edges of the sweater she sports and draws the garment tightly around her; eyes closing briefly closing as she turns her face into the hood over her and inhales deeply. Allowing the lingering scent to provide even the smallest bit of happiness and comfort.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Riley quips, as she sets the mug of tea down on the table and then takes a swallow of wine; savouring the taste before dropping into one of the empty chairs. “This is getting to be a habit; our little late night gab sessions.”

“It’s nothing new around here; Tyler and I stay up talking a lot later than this.”

“Yeah, but with five kids, it’s probably the only chance you two get to be alone and catch up on each other’s lives. Not to mention he probably bangs the shit out of you first. Is he a cuddler? Tell me he’s a cuddler. That the big, bad mercenary likes a good snuggle. It would be even better if you said he enjoys being the little spoon.”

“Took him a while to totally come around to the whole aftermath; getting used to me being cuddly and needy and wanting snuggles. But he’s good with it now; those arms are more than capable of getting the job done. But no; he is definitely not the little spoon. Never has been, never will be. There’s some things Tyler WON’T allow.”

“Glad to see he hasn’t totally surrendered every ounce of his balls to you,” Riley teases, and stretches her legs out and places her feet in the chair across from her. “That he doesn’t cater to every single whim of yours. Maybe he isn’t totally whipped after all.”

“Oh he is,” Esme grins, and sips her tea. “Just don’t tell him I told you that. He still thinks he’s the boss around here; that he’s in charge.”

Riley snorts. “Poor bastard. I’ll let him live with his delusions. That stuff smells like shit by the way; how do you drink that crap?”

“It tastes better than it smells. I brought it back from India; along with the list of the ingredients after I run out. One of the nannies that helped watch the kids introduce me to it; when the morning sickness got really bad. It works.”

“I think in your case, it needs to be renamed ‘ all day sickness’. You always suffer.”

“It’s actually not as bad this time. It still sucks and I still feel like shit, but it’s not nearly as awful as it has been. The end result is worth it, right? Or at least I try to tell myself that.” She sets her mug down on the table and gathers her hair in her hands; twisting it and placing it into a messy bun she secures with an elastic she sports on her wrist. “ You’ve been holed up inside on the phone for a couple of hours. What’s up with that?”

“It was very important business.”

“Please tell me you were NOT having phone sex in my bed.”

“Like you and the Aussie haven’t done way worse in every room of this house. But no; nothing dirty or scandalous. I was talking to my woman.”

“Your woman, huh? Is this that cute little blond you showed me? The cop from Littleton?”

“Sadly, things didn’t work out. Once I told her I wouldn’t be coming back, everything went south. She wasn’t keen on the whole long distance relationship thing. I guess skype sex wasn’t her idea of a good time.”

“Well if that doesn’t make me feel like a home wrecking piece of shit, I don’t know what will. You came here for us; put your entire life on hold. The last thing I wanted was everything falling apart for you. I’m sorry, Ry. If I’d known it would cause you that kind of grief…”

“First off, you didn’t ask me to come here. I offered. Second, you didn’t really wreck anything; we were having problems before all this came about. If anything, you just yanked the plug sooner. Don’t feel bad; I wasn’t with her long and I don’t think it would have lasted much longer any way.”

“So if it wasn’t the little police lady? Who was it? Someone you met online?”

“Not exactly.”

“When have you had time to meet anyone? You’ve been here; helping with the kids and around the house, visiting Tyler at the hospital.”

Riley lifts her wine glass to her lips and stares pointedly at her sister over the rim.

“What? What’s that look for? What did I say?”

“Think about the words that just came out of your mouth. About how I’ve been here, at the hospital…”

“Look, I know this baby is already messing with body AND brain, but are you talking in some kind of code? Some kind of riddle? Am I supposed to be reading between the lines or…?”

“The hospital,” Riley stresses.

“What about it? What is going on right now? I feel like I need a translator.”

“Jesus Christ, MeMe. At the hospital. That’s where I met someone.”

“What? You switched teams and this is your way of telling me you’re having an affair with my husband and he’s going to run off with you the second he’s back on his feet? What…?”

“That baby isn’t just feasting on what you eat; it’s munching on your brain cells too. I met someone while visiting Tyler. Someone on my own team. Your man is hot, but I don’t think he can convince me to convert to dick.”

“You had time to meet someone while visiting your brother in law in the hospital? I barely have time to take a piss or wipe my own ass while I’m there. How do you just randomly meet someone? A patient? A patient’s family member?”

“A nurse. I met a nurse. And not just any nurse either. Are you following along now? Is it starting to come to you?”

“Oh my God…” Esme takes a gulp of tea and slowly lowers her mug onto the table. “...you’re banging Tyler’s nurse.”

“Well we haven’t progressed to that yet, but…”

“You’ve been here a week and you’ve already met someone? Seven days in Australia and you already have someone you’re talking to for hours at time on the phone. I’ve been married for six and half years…” she grabs her phone off the table top and holds it aloft. “...and there’s days I don’t even get a text back.”

“He’s probably busy getting his hair braided or his nails done. Isn’t old man Koen there for a boys night? A little sleep over? Are your ears burning because they’re gossiping about you?”

“Cute,” Esme smirks. “I asked him if he’d stay over because Tyler has a rough time at night; no distractions and too much time to think. I thought maybe having someone there would do him some good. Especially after the news we got today. But seriously? You and Shanae? Really?”

“Really. Come on, MeMe. You have to admit, she IS hot. If you were single and ready and willing and able to mingle, you would so jump on that. I know your type, remember.”

“First of all, I don’t have a type. If I had a type, my second husband would look like my first.”

“What’s your third one going to look like? A hybrid of the two?”

Esme scowls.

“I’m kidding. We all know Tyler is your ‘be all and end all’. That the two of you are madly and wildly in love and lust with one another. You’re going to grow very old and very grey together and have insanely beautiful grandchildren. And thank fuck he DOESN’T look like Mark. I would have to kick your ass if he did. You sure lowered your standards the first time. Thank God your taste in men improved and you traded up.”

“I like to pretend that the first part of my life never happened. That Esme...THIS Esme...didn’t exist until seven years ago. It makes it much easier to bear; the fact I was so goddamn stupid and naive and pitiful.”

“You were way too good for that asshole. I’m so glad he got hit by the karma bus head on.”

“If there’s one thing that psychopath Nathan did do right, it was getting rid of him. Good riddance to old rubbish. And let’s not talk about him. About EITHER of them. They both send me into a blind rage and the doctor says I need to cut down on my anxiety and stress.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Tell me more about your nurse. How did this all happen? When did you even get the opportunity to chat her up and what not?”

“A little bit here, a little bit there. Each time I’d visit Tyler, her and I would chat just a little bit more. And then it turned into locking eyes from across the hall or flirtatious comments made in passing. Couple days ago, she asked for my phone number. We've been chatting it up and texting ever since. I asked her out; we’re taking a road trip to Cairns.”

“Oh really…”

“We leave Friday morning after she gets off shift. Come back Sunday night.”

“So by road trip you actually mean a three day long booty call.”

“We are staying in separate rooms and spending our days and evenings together getting to know one another. You’re the whore in the family that fucked a guy the first day she met him. And for four days after that.”

“Okay first of all, it wasn’t the first day I met him. It was the fourth day, technically. It was our first day in Dhaka.”

“Does that really make much of a difference? You probably would have; banged him the first day. I may be into women, but I’m not blind. He’s hot.”

“I will have you know that I did consider calling the first night for a booty call. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

Riley grins and sips her wine. “You are such a little slut. You took one look at the Aussie...those blue eyes and those muscles...and wanted to get absolutely railed by him. You dirty little thing.”

“BUT I talked myself out of it. I was in no way mentally stable enough to handle rejection.”

“Like he would have said no. Turned down a hot little minx like you? The man’s not blind. He definitely would not have said no.”

“And second, I ended up marrying him. So it totally negates all the sluttiness.”

“No, MeMe. It doesn’t.”

“You’re right,” she laughs, and swallows a mouthful of tea. “It doesn’t. It WAS a pretty whoreish move on my behalf. But you know what? That five days? I don’t regret a damn thing. Best sex of my life. Hands down. And now I’ve spent years being spoiled with incredible sex. So it all worked out, didn’t it.”

“He also knocked you up. During those five days. So I don’t know how well things worked out.”

“My fake husband became my real husband and we have a pretty damn good life and we’ve made beautiful children together. It all worked out just fine. So you like her? Sheana? Does she make your heart go pitter patter and your nether regions do flip flops?”

“Oh she does something to my nether regions, alright.”

“Well don’t say it’s a burning sensation or you’ve got far more pressing issues than falling for someone.”

“Whoa...whoa...whoa…” Riley makes a slicing motion across her throat with her finger. “...I did not say that that’s happening.”

“You just said you she makes your heart go pitter patter.”

“No, you asked me if she did and I never answered. I said she does something to my nether regions.”

“So you want to bang her but you want to come across respectable by taking her out for dinner and drinks first,” Esme reasons. “Not your usual MO when it comes to romance, Ry. Which can only mean one thing. She’s different. She DOES make your heart go pitter patter.”

“You are reading way too much into this. I’m taking her out on a date.”

“You’re taking her on a weekend away. To Cairns. Which hotel are you staying at?”

Riley smirks. “I’m not telling you.”

“Tell me. Or I will call her up at work right now and get the low down from her. I have my ways; I can get information out of people without them even realizing I’m prying. So spill. What hotel? Don’t underestimate me, Ry. I can find out things.”

“The Reef House. Palm Cove.”

“We stayed there! On a ‘mommy and daddy’ weekend just after we moved here. That isn’t your average hotel; it’s chic and it’s romantic and it’s top notch. It's not the kind of place you take just ANYONE to. If you’re not really into someone and you’re just hoping for something casual, you’re not spending that kind of money and being in that kind of environment. You really DO like this one.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Just admit it; you’re growing up and out of your slutty little ways and you’re looking for something real. Something special. You wouldn’t waste your time or money if you weren’t. ‘Fess up, Red. You’re really into her, aren’t you.”

Riley sighs and leans back in her chair, slowly sipping her wine in response.

“You can’t fool me. You’ve never been able to. Remember when you came out to me? And I said I’d known for years and didn’t understand what took so long?”

“You knew because you used your bisexual radar on me.”

“I knew because you used to steal your dad’s Playboys and his Sports Illustrated swimsuit magazines and keep them under your mattress. I also read your diary once. And found those notebooks full of erotic fiction you wrote. You know, the ones shipping you with Britney Spears and J-Lo. Sometimes both of them at once.”

“God I hate you right now.”

“I told you. I know things. And I’m very good at finding other things out. I didn’t do as well as I did in my job by being on the up and up; I was sneaky and I lied and I used people and I got exactly what I want. I told you not to underestimate me.”

“You’re good,” Riley praises. “I can see why you were so successful in what you did. All tiny with that cute face and that sweet little smile. No one ever expected you, did they.”

“I wouldn’t be alive right now if they did. Now tell the truth…” Esme folds her hands together and places her forearms on the table as she leans into it. “...you’re into her, aren’t you.”

Riley just smiles.

“You can play coy all you want. I know your habits. I know your track record with women and relationships. This is all new. You know what they say; actions speak louder than words.” Her cell phone vibrates against the table, and she picks up and flips it screen up. “Oh, look. A text back. It only took an hour and a half. He’s lucky I love him. Some people file for divorce for a lot less.”

“Like THAT will ever happen. You guys are too nuts about each other to ever go down that road. What’s that cheeky little smile about?”

“Nothing,” Esme says, and quickly sends a text of her own, then pushes her chair away from the table and stands up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call coming and I need to take it inside.”

“He wants to have phone sex doesn’t he. He just sent you a really dirty text.”

“Maybe,” she singsongs, and heads for the sliding door.

“If it’s a dick pick, I want to see it. I need to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Sorry,” Esme grins, and places one foot over the threshold. “I don’t share my toys.”

*****

She meets Koen at a small dinner across from Cooktown Hospital. A tiny, ‘hole in the wall’ mom and pop place that only hosts five tables and a handful of stools in front of a formica countertop. It’s nothing more than a simple breakfast before the ultrasound appointment, but it brings with it a sense of escape; the first time in weeks not spending the majority of her time in a hospital setting and the opportunity of being in the company of another adult outside of a medical facility or home. Yet there’s a tiny sense of guilt that comes with it; the small part of her that feels awful for doing something for herself and not devoting her time to someone else. It’s silly to think that way; Tyler would even tell her that she’s being ridiculous and that he in no way expects her to devote every single moment to him and his needs. In fact, he spent the better part of the last seven years cautioning her against it; always insisting that she take time for herself and going as far as taking all the kids out at once so she has a quiet house to herself or even booking her hair and spa appointments ‘just because’. Never one for grand romantic gestures, but always spoiling her in his own way. But it’s hard to get out of that; wanting and needing to be the one that provides care and comfort for everyone else. After all, she’s spent six and a half years being a spouse and a mother; all that time being pregnant and raising little ones. So it’s difficult to just turn that side off.

As she steps inside, Koen gives a bright smile and waves to her from a booth at the back of the restaurant; chivalrously getting sliding off the bench and getting to his feet as she approaches. Greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss to each cheek before gently curling his fingers around her bicep and helping her into her seat. She’s not quite at that stage just yet; needing help with something as simple lowering herself into a chair. But the sentiment makes her heart swell. Especially coming from someone as gritted and often jaded as Koen.

“You’ve been taking lessons haven’t you,” she grins, and slips her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “Someone’s been coaching you.”

“More like he warned me to make sure his girl was taken care of. I know what’s best for me; making sure you’re safe and sound means my ass doesn’t get beat into the middle of next week.”

“He’s very protective. Has been since day one. Even in Dhaka seven years ago; watching over me like a hawk and losing his shit if I didn’t listen to him.”

“Well, he’s crazy about ya. Doesn’t want anything happening to you. Or that little one in there. It’s nice to see him like this, actually. Devoting all of himself to loving someone and making them happy. Kind of gives me hope. If something that good can come to him, maybe it can find me too.”

“You know, you’re getting really sappy in your old age,” Esme teases, and grabs a menu from the holder on the window ledge. “It’s actually very charming; to see a softer side of you.”

“Charming enough that other ladies find it appealing? Seeing as you’re off the market and all.”

“I think there are plenty of women out there that would find it...and you...appealing. And now that you’re moving down here and you’ll be so much closer, maybe I can help you find someone.”

“You got any cute friends?”

“I don’t exactly have any friends. But there are some single moms at the school. You have an objection to a woman with children?”

“Not if she’s hot as hell and can ride like a champion.”

Esme frowns. “Okay, now THAT isn’t appealing or charming. But rest assured; I will get the word out there and find you someone. Don’t tell Tyler though. He always hates when I try to play matchmaker. Especially when I really got behind shipping my brother with the neighbour. But in Tyler’s defense, it didn’t have a good ending. For us, anyway.”

“I heard Kyle’s moving in next door. I also heard you told him where to go and give him very distinct directions on how to get there.”

“It’s a long story. I don’t know where things went wrong. He and Tyler were buddies back in Colorado; they used to go to the gym together and everything. And then shit went down in Ireland and Kyle just went off. He’s been on Tyler’s ass since,” she pauses and smiles up at the waitress who comes to collect their drink order; asking for a tea before returning to the menu open in front of her. “It’s been brutal; the things he’s said. Accusing Tyler of ‘stealing me away’ and bullying me and manipulating me into getting married and having children and staying in Australia. When have you known Tyler to bully and manipulate me?”

“Never. He doesn’t have it in him. And he’s too fucking crazy about you. Also knows I’d beat his ass if he even tried that shit.”

“Tyler is NOT a bully. Never has been. I know it’s easy to imagine he might be because of his job and the things he’s done and the things he’s capable of, but he’s the farthest thing from it. He has a huge heart. And when loves, he loves deep and with everything he has. I’ve lived with an abusive person. Tyler is far removed from being that way.”

“He learned the hard way. Had to see his mom get the shit kicked out of her. Treated lower than dirt. Could have went either way with him. Could have grown up thinking that was the way to be.”

“Well let’s be very thankful he went the opposite direction. He has never...and would never...raise a hand to me. His voice, yes. We’re both guilty of that. We do fight. Not as much as we used to, but it does happen. But hit me or threaten me? That’s not him. I’ve never felt intimidated by him. Or scared of him. Kyle can’t seem to get that through his head.”

“I’ve only met him twice, but Kyle seems like a right dickhead.”

“All my brothers are. They learned from our mother. I’m the only normal one out of that group. And that’s saying a lot. Kyle crossed a line that he never should have. He was saying things about Tyler; in front of the kids. It hurts them; hearing things like that about their father. And I won’t allow it. I won’t let anyone ruin him in their eyes. Because he’s a good man and he’s an amazing dad and he deserves so much better than Kyle’s shit. I won’t let anyone disrespect my husband. Won’t happen.”

Koen grins. “You two make a good pair; always sticking up for one another.”

“For a long time, it was just us. We didn’t have anyone else to rely on or lean on. We’ve always been able to count on each other and trust one another. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Or ever. He’s my best friend. He’s been my rock for the last seven years. Even when he’s struggling and in pain or going through shit, he always makes sure I’m okay. And Kyle can suck it if he thinks he’s going to ruin things. I just told him not to come around anymore. That I didn’t want him around the kids. They don’t need that shit. And neither does Tyler. Especially right now. I don’t want him coming home after nearly two months and dealing with that crap.”

“I don’t know if I should be telling you this…”

“Oh God…” she places her elbows and buries her face in her hands. “...nothing good can possibly come after that. What did Tyler do?”

“Nothing. Yet. But Kyle came to the hospital last night. Wanted to see him.”

“He didn’t get the chance did he? The nurses have a list regarding who is and isn’t allowed to see him. For his own sanity and his safety. In case there is some asshole out there looking for him.”

“He tried to get past the nurses, but didn’t get very far. I went out and talked to him. He was pretty drunk; going on and on about Tyler turning you against him and the rest of the family and he wouldn’t get away with it. I got rid of him. Personally. Escorted him all the way outside myself.”

“Thank you. That is the last thing Tyler needs. Dealing with Kyle’s bullshit.”

“Then Kyle called him. About wanting to talk to him once he gets him.”

“Tyler answered? He actually talked to him?”

“Told Kyle he’d get in contact once he got home and settled. Nothing good is going to come of that. Those two sitting down to chat.”

“This is not what I want to be dealing with,” Esme sighs, and rummages through her bag for her cell phone. “I’m going to get Riley on this. She’s not afraid to call Kyle out and get in his face. I do NOT want him coming over to the house. Tyler gets home Friday. I do NOT want my brother just showing up out of the blue. My husband does not need that drama. And neither do my kids.”

“Or you,” Koen points out. “Want me to deal with it? Go to the neighbour’s and set him straight?”

She pauses before sending her sister a text message. “You would do that?”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for you guys. I’ll head over there after your appointment. Drag his hungover ass out of bed if I have to. I got you. Put your phone away; you don’t need to worry about all this. You just concentrated on yourself and that little human inside you and let me worry about the rest.”

“You’re a saint,” she declares. “I’m going to be so glad to have you closer. It’ll be good for Tyler; having you nearby. And we really need the help. Especially when it comes to the business. Thank you,” she reaches across the table and takes one of his hands in both of hers, squeezing tightly. “You have no idea the weight it takes off of me. I haven’t been dealing well. This has been a nightmare. Almost losing him and fighting to get him sent back home and then travelling back and forth to see him and trying to be a decent mom at the same time. I’ve been having some issues. With the baby.”

Koen frowns. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I don’t think it’s serious; I’ve dealt with the same stuff before. But it’s just unnerving. And if anything happens to this baby, I don’t think Tyler could handle it. Look what the miscarriage did to him; he pushed everything so far down and concentrated on how I was feeling and taking care of him. It took him a year to even talk about it; to open about how he felt. It killed him Koen; losing a baby. Especially losing one AFTER losing his first born. I don’t think he could take it. If something went wrong.”

“Well we’re going to get you checked out today,” he assures her. “You and that little one. And you better listen to your husband; about taking care of yourself instead of worrying about everyone else. You don’t have to do everything on your own. Ask for help. You’ve got your sister and Ovi and I’m sure Nik would step up some more if you needed her too. And I’ll be around. Stop taking everything on and start delegating shit to other people. It isn’t just you and Tyler anymore. You’ve got tons of people around that love you guys. Stop feeling like you have to do it all.”

“I DO have a bad habit of not asking for help when I need it.”

“No shit.”

“It’s hard to break myself of that. But I’ll try. I promise. I will put myself and my baby first and let other people handle things.”

“You say that now, but…”

“It’s a learning process. Letting go of bad habits. But I’ll get there. Eventually. It’s hard; when it’s just been the two of you for so long. Sometimes it feels like we’re still so alone in all of this. Like it’s Tyler and I against the world. It’ll get better right? All of this? One day we’re going to look back on this and laugh. Or at least not cry about it. Tell me it’s going to get better. I need you to tell me that. Even if you’re lying.”

“It will get better,” he promises, and squeezes her hand. “It has to.”

*****

“Why do you keep checking your phone?” Esme inquires, as they sit in the radiology department’s waiting area. 

It’s crowded; pregnant women attending ultrasounds, those in casts waiting for x rays to be taken. It feels like just yesterday she was there for Addie; only two weeks after their move back to Australia. Sitting in almost the exact same spot; feeling as if her water was about to burst, her husband shifting nervously and uncomfortably beside her as his PTSD threatened to take hold. Any medical setting is enough to trigger it; the smells, the sounds, the sights. All mixing together and becoming too overwhelming to bear; bringing out the sweats dizziness and nausea and sometimes even full blown panic attacks. Yet he’s always insisted on attending. No matter how uncomfortable the surroundings made him. Even when he was still ‘on the job’, he rarely missed an ultrasound; enjoying being there for her and seeing their baby and hearing the heartbeat. It made him feel like he was part of it; not just the person that kicked in fifty percent of the DNA. And he’s never missed a first appointment. 

Until now. 

“Why do you keep shaking your legs like that?” Koen counters.

“Listen buddy, I just drank a litre of water and my bladder feels like it’s going to explode. And I’ve got some hell spawn sitting far into my back; up against my kidney. And they like to use it as a punch bag. I’m a little uncomfortable right now.”

“I’m waiting for a text,” Koen explains, and slips his phone into the side pocket of his cargo pants.

“From who? The hot little thing you met in Thailand?”

“No. And it’s none of your business.”

“Very mysterious. You disappear for nearly a month even though you were only supposed to be gone for two weeks, now you have someone texting you. Someone you won’t tell me about? Scandalous.”

“There’s nothing scandalous. I went to Dhaka, got shit done, and then took a little vacay. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Hmmm….mmmm….” she takes a swig from the bottle of water in her hand. “Is she cute?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Why would I NOT think it’s a she?”

“It isn’t like THAT. It’s just an important text. You’re nosy.”

“I’m bored and I’m uncomfortable. And sad. Very sad.”

“About…?”

“I love you and you’re a great friend to Tyler and I, but I really wish it was him here instead of you.”

“Normally that would hurt my feelings, but I won’t take it personally. It’s a big deal; you’ve got a little human being in there. I’d be worried if you weren’t sad. I’m sorry, kiddo. That things got so fucked up.”

“It’s the first time he’s ever missed a first ultrasound. He’s always made an effort to be there. He was on a job and took a nine hour red eye flight to get back to Colorado for Declan’s. And then flew back out an hour after the appointment. If THAT doesn’t say dedication, I don’t know WHAT does.”

“He’s not kidding when he says he’d do anything for you.”

“Even when I lost the one baby and he was all the way on the other side of the world…” her voice cracks with emotion. “....he told Nik to get someone else to take his place because he needed to be home. And I take for granted sometimes; the things he HAS done and the lengths he's gone to. For me. And now…” she bites down on her bottom lip and then places her hands over her face when the tears start to fall.

“Esme...don’t do this…” Koen pleads, and nervously lays a hand across her shoulders. “I don’t do well in these situations...don’t cry...please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I’m so hormonal. Way worse than I’ve ever been with any of the other kids. I feel like I’m having a mental breakdown all the time. How many babies are in here? How many does there need to be to screw up your hormones THIS bad?”

“I don’t know. I have no experience in this. But you need to just calm down and take a breath and…”

“This totally sucks. Not having Tyler here. He knows what to expect and how to deal with it. You just get thrown to the wolves. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this. I’m not normally this whiny and weak. But I’ve got a human being growing inside of me and they’re killing my bladder right now. Feel…” she removes one of the hands from her face and grabs one of his, holding it to the left side of the bump. “...do you feel that? Do you feel how strong this kid is? Do you want this feels like? Like my insides are having the shit kicked out of them. How big IS this kid? What baby kicks that hard already? Like come on.”

“This is what you get for getting mixed up with a giant. Big babies.”

“My last baby was only five pounds. Addie was super tiny. She still is.”

“Declan was over ten.”

“You WOULD remind me of that. That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“I think you’re just a little worked up because Tyler isn’t here. I know I don’t exactly measure up, but…”

“I hate this. What Nathan did. It’s his fault. That Tyler can’t be here. Just another thing to hate that asshole for.”

“Well lets rant about him later. Because they’re calling your name and you need to get in there.” He stands and reaches her arm; fingers curling around her bicep as he helps her to her feet. She likes it; that kind of care and compassion. Even if she doesn’t quite need that level of it yet. 

“Are you dad?” The tech inquires, as she greets them at the door to one of the sonogram rooms. 

“I wish,” Koen smirks.

“My husband couldn’t be here,” Esme explains, her voice once more shaking with emotions. “He’s in the hospital. He almost died and…”

“She’s a little emotional,” Koen says, and wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I’m here for moral support.”

“It’s the hormones,” Esme sniffles. “So many hormones. I’m sorry. I’ll be okay. I think.”

“Is this your first baby?” The tech motions for her to step into the room.

“No. It’s actually my sixth.”

“YOU have five children?”

She nods. 

“Geez girl, I don’t know what you’ve been eating or if you’ve been swimming in the fountain of youth, but...damn.”

“Oh trust me, it’s a hot mess UNDER these clothes.”

“Seeing as this isn’t your first rodeo, I’ll let you get comfortable and I’ll be in in a couple of minutes.”

“So how does all this work?” Koen inquires, as the tech departs and shuts the door behind her. “They stick something up there or…”

“Not usually. You don’t always need a trans-vaginal ultrasound. I definitely won’t need one; I’m already showing so it’s obvious they’ll be able to find the baby. What’s with that face? You look like I just torched the family farm or kicked your puppy.”

“Just what you said. Trans...whatever…”

“Vaginal?”

Koen scowls. “Esme…”

She drops her purse into a nearby chair, then grabs a sheet off the shelf above it. “What? The word vagina or any derivative makes you uncomfortable?” 

“When you say it, it does.”

“Vagina...vagina...vagina…” she chants. “What are you? Twelve?”

“Just hearing it come out of your mouth seems...I don’t know...strange. Whoa..whoa..whoa…” he places a hand over his hands. “...what are you doing?”

“I’m taking my leggings off. What do you think I’m doing?”

“Why are you doing THAT?”

“Because they need to get to the bump and I can’t have pants on. I thought this would be your dream come true; seeing me drop my pants.”

“Not in this kind of situation.”

“Relax, I’m not going to walk around bare ass naked from the waist down. I’m keeping my underwear on. . Unlike my husband, I wear them. And then I’m going to wrap the sheet around me and lie on the exam table. Keep your eyes closed if it bothers you THAT much.”

“You’re my best friend’s wife.”

“We’re not getting ready to bang or anything. Take it easy. And you say I’M worked up.” She wraps the thing sheet around her waist and then tosses the leggings on top of her purse. “I know this wasn’t exactly your idea of getting me naked from the waist down, but…”

“Just hurry up. Don’t make this more awkward than it needs to be.”

“You’re blushing by the way. Right up to the tips of your ears. It’s very cute.”

“Don’t make me leave you here.”

“Alright...alright...settle…” She slides onto the exam table and loosens the sheet, draping it across her lower body as she lies down. “...okay...I’m decent.”

“So what do I do?”

“Basically you just sit down beside me and hold my hand. That’s all there is to it. You don’t have to say anything or whisper sweet nothings in my ear or stroke my hair or any of that. It would be nice, but…”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Freckles.” He drops heavily into the chair at the side of the table. “So what now?”

“We wait. Until the tech gets back.”

“And then?”

“Have you never had an ultrasound for anything? None of your war wounds or anything like that?”

Koen shakes his head.

“They put this jelly on my stomach and they have this wand thing and they move it around the bump and find the baby and take pictures. Let you hear the heartbeat. It’s pretty good. Even after four other pregnancies, it’s still going to be awesome to see. You’re in for a treat.”

“Probably some alien baby with two heads and a tail.”

“Tyler and I make very attractive children, thank you very much. Not one of them has ever had a tail. Although when I was having Declan, they did think they saw a third nipple.”

“What?”

“It was just a piece of dust or something on the screen. But yeah, that was quite the moment. I mean, they thought they saw other things too with him. But it all turned out to be nothing. That’s what I’m nervous about; that they’ll find something. I’ve never gone this long without seeing a doctor. Normally I’m not far past the second month.”

“Not like you had a choice. Being stuck in Mumbai and then everything that happened in Dhaka,” Koen reasons.

“I just want everything to be okay. We need good news. We’ve had enough bad news. Something HAS to go right. Right?”

He nods in agreement.

“I mean, not that it would matter. If something WAS wrong. Tyler and I have this conversation every pregnancy. About how it makes no difference to us. It’s still our baby and we’ll deal with whatever comes our way.” She runs her hands slowly over her bump. “Still. Makes me nervous.”

“You got nothing to worry about, kiddo. Everything is going to be fine. You’re due for something good.” His cell phone vibrates in his pocket; standing as he checks the call display. “I have to take this.”

“What? We’re going to start soon.”

“I’ll just be a couple minutes.”

“Don’t you leave me here, Koen. Do NOT make me go through this alone. I will get off this table and beat your ass into the middle of next week!”

“I’ll be back,” he assures her, and slips out of the door.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” she asks into the empty room, then sighs heavily and turns her face towards the ceiling and closes her eyes. Her nerves are on edge; that weird chill that runs through your body and makes you shiver and your shoulders and legs tense. It’s commonplace; the excitement of finally seeing your baby mixed with the hope that everything will be fine and the worry that something out of the norm will be discovered. And she doesn’t open her eyes when the door clicks open, choosing instead to dramatically pout over Koen’s disappearance.

“I don’t know what you’re nervous about. It’s not like it’s your kid you’re finding out about.”

“Actually, it kind of is.”

Her eyes snap open at the sound of the familiar voice, and she hurriedly turns onto her side and props herself up on her elbow; the tears immediate. “What are you doing there? You’re not supposed to be here!”

“Got released on good behaviour. I wanted to surprise you.” Tyler pushes himself out of the wheelchair parked in front of the door, then slowly makes his way into the room. It’s not a long journey but it’s a sign of things to come; strength and stamina improving with each small, tedious step. “Hey baby…” he leans over the exam table, chuckling as she throws both arms around his neck and almost yanks him down on top of her. “...you okay? Feeling alright?”

“Why are you here?” She pulls back to look at him, cradling his face in her hands. “Why are you not at the hospital?!” 

“You want me to go? Leave you here with Koen?”

“Of course not. Don’t be stupid!” She presses a kiss to his lips. “I’m just surprised. How? How are you even here? How’d you even get out of there? You didn’t go AWOL, did you?”

“Ovi arranged it over a week ago. I’ve been keeping it quiet ever since. I haven’t missed a first ultrasound yet. I didn’t want to start now.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Her eyes never leave his as her fingertips search every inch of his face. As if they’ve been separated for weeks, months, or even years, and she’s rediscovering him. “That’s all I wanted. You here for this.”

“I’m here, baby. Don’t cry,” he smoothes her hair away from her face and uses his thumbs to clear the tears off her cheeks. “Please don’t cry. Everything’s fine. It’s all going to be okay.”

“You should sit down. Your leg…”

“My leg is fine. I can stand for a few minutes. Don’t cry…” he presses a kiss to her forehead, followed by her temple, then wraps his arm even tighter around her waist and pulls her into him. “....please don’t cry, Me. Everything is okay. I’m here.”

“I’m scared.” She speaks through sobs, her body trembling against him. Hands desperately clutching at his t-shirt. 

“What are you scared of? Tell me.” He places a kiss on her cheek and then backs away; palms against her cheeks. “Tell me what you’re scared of.”

“What if something’s wrong? What if I waited too long to see a doctor and it caused problems? What if…?”

“None of that, okay?” He runs a hand over her hair; moving wayward strands away from her forehead and pressing a kiss to her brow. “Everything is going to be okay. The baby’s going to be fine. There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. I’m so glad you are. Thank you. For showing up..”

“Anything for you, Me. You know that. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she pecks his lips. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

“I think I have a little bit of an idea. Don’t cry, Me. Please don’t cry. It’s all going to be alright. Nothing’s going to be wrong. We’re gonna see our baby. Find out for sure what’s going on in there. Remember our deal? If there’s more than one?”

She nods.

“Don’t let me down. I’m counting on you. To let everyone know about the super sperm.”

“I promise; I will post it on instagram and facebook right away. IF there’s more than one. If you managed to make another set of twins, you deserve it; hearing you have super sperm.”

“Atta girl.” He presses a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, then takes a seat in the chair Koen abandoned. “You feeling alright?” He runs a hand over her hair, then rests his palm on the top of her head ; thumb softly stroking her forehead. 

“I feel okay. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. Since this all started. I love our bed, but I hate being in it alone.”

“Just a few more days. It’s almost over, babe. I’ll be home soon.”

“I made the office into a real guest room. So you don’t have to try and get upstairs or sleep on the couch. That way we can sleep together. I really need that. Being with you like that.”

“So do I. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed US. Not too much longer, babe. Four sleeps.”

“Four sleeps,” she repeats, smiling as he clears away the remains of tears with his free hand. 

“Now YOU must be dad,” the tech says, as she steps into the room and shuts the door.

“I am,” Tyler confirms. “Or so she says. The verdict is still out on one of our kids.”

“We have a ginger,” Esme explains. “Which makes sense, because grandma was a ginger. It just missed one generation and went to the next. But the husband likes to think the kid belongs to the mailman.”

“The cable guy. He was the ginger. Not the mailman.”

“I can assure you, the kid is his. He even has the same resting bitch face. And the temper. They all have the temper.”

“And you have five at home?” The tech takes a seat on a stool in front of the monitor, then grabs a bottle of gel; moving the sheet down to the top of Esme’s thighs and spreading the cool substance over her stomach. 

Tyler nods. “Not much else to do in Colorado. Too damn cold to do anything else.”

“Only two were made there,” Esme points out. “The first three were made here.”

“How far along do you think you are?”

“I don’t know. I know I can’t be anymore than twenty weeks. Our daughter is just going to be six months. And we waited for three weeks after she was born. So...yeah…”

“So this one is a surprise.”

“You can say that again. Daddy had a vasectomy. Only he didn’t follow the aftercare rules. At all. So here we are.”

“Well things are meant to be, right? This is your first ultrasound?”

“Some things happened. Bad things. We couldn’t get in to see anyone sooner. Is that a problem? Could I have caused something to go wrong? By not seeing someone sooner? I’ve been eating well and taking vitamins and doing everything I did with all the others. Could I have caused something to go wrong?”

“Baby, it’s fine,” Tyler assures her. “Everything’s going to be okay. You didn’t make anything bad happen.”

“There’s very little you could do wrong to cause problems after conception. And by the looks of things. Everything...or I should say EVERYONE...looks a-okay.”

Esme frowns. “What do you mean everyone? You mean me and the baby or…?”

The tech turns the screen towards them, then begins moving the wand around on her belly. “Right here, we see the spine. Very long. Very healthy. Everything looks the way it should. Baby’s going to be tall when they grow up. And we have the feet and the umbilical cord and the heart. A nice strong heartbeat. It’s slower paced, so that suggests a boy.”

“I knew it,” Tyler says, and presses a kiss to his wife’s temple. 

“See that profile?" The tech crops the view on the screen and takes a picture. "Very cute.”

“That’s definitely a Rake profile,” Esme observes. “That nose and that ear? Even the chin? That’s all Rake. Looks just like our oldest daughter did. Is there a way to tell how far I am? I know you’re not supposed to say anything and we’re supposed to wait for the doctor to tell us, but we’ve had a really shit month. Humour us, please?”

“Judging by size and measurements. I’d say about eighteen weeks. So about four and a half months?”

“Well out of the first trimester,” Esme sighs in relief. “We lost a baby; just before the third month. And I’ve had problems with all my pregnancies. Lots of scares before the third month. Everything looks okay?”

“Everything looks good, momma. That’s a very healthy little one. Now we’ll move here…”

“Wait...wait….” Esme watches as the tech moves the wand to the other side of her stomach. “...why are you…?”

“And here’s the other. Just as healthy looking as the other. Not as long; the spine is a tad bit shorter. But the heartbeat is just as strong. Faster. That’s a sign that this one is a girl.”

“Holy fuck…” Tyler can’t hold back the profanity or the chuckle. “...I was actually joking for the most part.”

“There’s TWO?” Esme lifts her head to look closer at the monitor. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. You’re having twins.”

“Are you serious?” She turns to Tyler. “Is she serious?”

“There’s two, Me. I definitely see two.”

“Congratulations,” the tech smiles. 

“You have some damn talented and lucky swimmers, Tyler.”

“We already have twins,” he explains to the tech. “They’re five. Boys.”

“There’s seriously two of them in there?” Esme inquires. “I’m having another set of twins?”

“Twins that look very healthy,” the tech confirms. “I’ll let you two have some time to yourselves to digest this. I’ll go print off some pictures. Want a DVD? I can burn one for you. Congratulations, mom and dad. They look perfect AND healthy.”

“Can you believe this?” Esme waits until the other woman leaves the room to address Tyler. “Can you actually believe this is happening? ANOTHER set of twins?”

“I told you; if it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen to us. You okay? You look like you might pass out.”

“Two. We’re having two.” The tears once more well in her eyes. “I swear you have a horseshoe up your ass. You survive Dhaka TWICE. You make twins TWICE. What the fuck, Tyler?”

“Luckiest man on earth, I guess. That was pretty much cemented the day I met you. Can’t get any luckier than that.”

“I can’t believe this,” she breathes, and he leans in to press a kiss to her lips; his eyes sparkling and a soft smile curving his lips as he pulls back to look at her. “I seriously can not believe this.”

“We’re having two babies, mommy. And you heard her; they’re healthy and they’re beautiful. You did everything right. You’ve been taking damn good care of them. Through all the bullshit. They’re safe and they’re healthy. Because of you.”

Smiling, she leans sideways and wraps both arms around his neck; tears dampening the side of his throat. “This is insane. A good insane, but still insane.”

“You know what this means?”

She pulls back to look at him.

“We’re going to be a family of NINE.”

“Jesus Christ,” she breathes, and pulls him into a hug and presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “You know what else it means?”

“What, babe?”

“After these babies come, you’re so sleeping in another room for a while.”

Laughing, he places a kiss on her cheek and then buries his fingers in her hair; holding her head tightly against his shoulder.


	113. Chapter 113

The OR waiting area is quiet and sparsely populated. Two other families huddled closed together on opposite sides of the room; hands tightly joined as they speak and prayed in hushed tones. For once her own anxiety and worry aren’t threatening to take over; body surprisingly calm and brain shockingly rational. Her nerves are still on edge; it’s hard to be completely relaxed and free of concern when your loved one is going under the knife, no matter how simple or routine the procedure is. But today’s operation is a welcome relief from the last trip to an operating room, when a team of surgeons had to fight to keep Tyler alive and still couldn’t guarantee he’d make it past the crucial first forty eight hours. The procedure is simple compared to what he’s already been through; a few hours to successfully repair both the labrum and the rotator cuff and fix any other damage that occurred. It’s been four and a half; a nurse calling her out into the hour at roughly the four hour mark to let her know that everything had gone according to plan and that he’d already been transferred to the recovery room and someone would fetch her when he started coming to. THAT has been the most tedious wait; far more nerve wracking and stressful than waiting for news on the surgery itself. Today’s operation marks an unofficial end to the physical issues; that last hurdle standing between Tyler returning home and starting that long road to a full recovery. It’s victory in a way; Nathan fully intending on breaking both his body and his mind before killing him. He’d survived. Beating a lot of odds stacked against him. And it’s the best revenge against those who’d tried to take him out; able to heal and grow stronger and healthier and continue on with his life. 

It’s been six weeks exactly. Forty-two days since the incident in the storage facility in Dhaka. There is now officially a light at the end of the tunnel. The nightmare very close to being finished and put behind them; never having to think about Dhaka or Nathan or Mahajan or Asif ever again. It’s more than time; put not only the most recent experience behind them, but the one that occurred seven years ago as well. It will take a lot of work on both their parts; counselling, various therapies, medications that can lessen the effects of mental illness. Physical healing won’t be easy; months of rehabilitation and strenuous and painful physio ahead of him. His body can be fixed and made whole again, but his brain is an entirely different story. One day they’ll fully accept the diagnosis. Right now, it’s a bitter pill to swallow and an extremely sensitive subject and one they don’t talk about nearly as often as they should. But the coping and the management has already begun; the medication already in his system, Esme reaching out to other spouses for support and setting up home counselling visits for both of them. The three oldest kids have been booked in for appointments with a child psychologist recommended by Doctor Klein; someone who will use things like play and music therapy to help them express their feelings, fears, and worries while trying to help them recover from the traumatic events. It’s disheartening but a necessity; adults and kids both needing time and patience to heal from the past two months.

She passes the time by journaling; a hobby she’d picked up shortly after finding out she was having Millie but hadn’t had time to indulge in over the past six and a half years. It seemed only fitting to pick it back up; documenting the journey with her last pregnancy in the way she had with her first. That book is packed safely away and still in storage; filled with ultrasound pictures and a photo of the positive test and pages upon pages of both the joy of the journey and the more difficult times. Even Millie’s hospital bracelets and foot and handprints. And she wouldn’t have even thought of repeating the process with this pregnancy had a surprise delivery NOT shown up at the house; an enormous arrangement of Australia wildflowers and a package wrapped in shimmering rose gold paper. Inside had been a ballpoint pen adorned with purple crystals and simple leather journal with an ornate lock and old fashioned key and a simple yet tear inducing message scrawled on the very first page in familiar handwriting: “I love you more than you could possibly know. The best part of me is YOU. Love, Tyler.” While not romantic in a cliched, grand gesture type of way, he does things specifically for her; paying attention to the things she loves and enjoys and then surprising her when she least expects it.

A hard kick just below the ribs has her both wincing and gasping aloud, and she frowns down at the ever growing bump; a hand moving in slow, smooth circles. Actually seeing the babies had made it all so real; two healthy little beings thriving inside of her. Before the ultrasound everything had been so worrisome and fragile; concerned that the problems and complications she was having were symptoms of something far more serious. All those fears had been aside by being able to see them; seeing those profiles and those tiny feet and hands and their hearts beating. Calls from both the head radiologist and her doctor had banished any remaining concerns; both babies measuring exactly where they should, no abnormalities spotted during the scan, and the pregnancy dated at nineteen weeks and four days. And when the radiologist had asked if she wanted a confirmation on the sexes, she’d immediately caved; wanting to hold onto the news until she was at Tyler’s bedside following his surgery and then telling him. It’s all so bittersweet. She’d spent a huge chunk of the last six and a half years pregnant, and this will in fact be the final time she’ll get to experience that. The changes to her body, the feeling of a baby moving inside of her, the way her husband seems to just fall in love and lust with her even more; finding her even more attractive and appealing when she’s growing bigger with a child. HIS child. 

It will be nice to that ‘silver lining’. Something happy and exciting in the midst of the long and painful journey to physical recovery and the gradual acceptance and management of the mental health issues. A nursery to decorate, names to pick out and baby boy clothes and decor and toys to buy; she’d donated nearly all of Declan’s things when supposed last baby Addie had been confirmed -in utero- to be a girl. And there’s home renos and additions that they’ve already planned for and started the initial groundwork on; professionals needing to be hired that can add on rooms and gut others and build a new three car garage (to be used primarily as an office) and a bigger and better gym. Many things on the ‘to do list’ that will prevent from dwelling on the bad and wallowing in self pity and remorse. It will be hard for Tyler to accept; not being able to be ‘hands on’ when it comes to the manual labour or his time spent with the kids. But it will give his brain the much needed escape; keeping it busy and active and not allowing the illness to run amok. 

“How far along are you?”

The pen pauses mid stroke and Esme glances over at the woman now sliding into the chair beside her. She’d been hunkered down with family huddled on the other side of the room; clutching rosaries and quietly praying and sharing laughs amongst the tears. Esme herself has been in that situation before; the life of loved one in the hands of total strangers, worried if you’d ever see them again 

“Nineteen weeks.”

“First one?”

“Actually…” she caps the pen and slides it down onto one of the journal pages before snapping the cover closed . “...my sixth AND seventh.”

The woman’s eyes widen. “You’re having twins?”

Esme nods.

“And you have five OTHER children? All biological?”

“Every last one. All mine and my husband’s.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“We have been,” she agrees with a laugh, then tucks her hair behind both ears. “But we both survived something pretty serious and dangerous seven years ago, and after that, we decided not to waste any time. We both wanted a big family; seven wasn’t the original number we settled on though. Four was going to be our limit.”

“Well for what’s it worse, you look damn good for someone who’s birthed that many kids.”

“It’s a hot mess under the clothes, believe me. But thank you.”

“I hope I didn’t offend you. With my reaction.”

“It’s a reaction I get all the time. No one seems to believe me when I first tell them; that I have that many kids. I take it as a compliment. I must like half decent at least; if people think it’s not possible.”

“At the risk of sounding creeping, you look amazing. Good genes, I imagine. When you’re fifty, you’ll be thankful you still look thirty.”

“I wouldn’t go THAT far, but thank you. Makes me feel good; my confidence has been taking quite the hit since these babies started to show. My almost three year old hugged me this morning and said ‘Mommy fluffy’. Not a good way to start the day.”

“Well fluffy is better than the OTHER F word.”

“Had he called me THAT, he would up for adoption,” Esme jokes. “He’s quite the character. Not even three and a just a total ham. This little bulldog running through the house and causing havoc.” She glances towards the clock on the far wall, then sighs and absentmindedly runs both hands over the sides of her bump.

“It’s hard,” the other woman sympathizes. “Trusting strangers with the people who love. No matter how experienced. My mom is in there right now; open heart surgery. She’s seventy-five; fairly healthy and still spry, so she has that on her side. You?”

“My husband. All of forty-one. He got hurt at work six weeks ago. Pretty badly, actually. He had a serious surgery right when they brought him in; injured back and busted up right femur and knee. At first they didn’t think he’d even make it off the table, let alone past the first forty eight hours. Surprised them all though; proved everyone wrong. Came out of heavy sedation on his own that night and he hasn’t slowed down since. He’s damn resilient. And stubborn as hell.” It’s easier to talk about now; emotion still tugging at her chest, but no tears welling in her eyes. There’s a sense of relief that comes with the last operation; the last six weeks of sheer hell on earth just about behind them. 

“That’s gotta be hard; him in here and five little ones at home.”

“It hasn’t been easy. We miss him. A lot. But I’m lucky; my sister came from Colorado and we have friends that are more than willing to drop everything to help us out. It’s been a journey; to say the least.” Movement in the hall catches her eye; Tyler’s surgeon in a fresh pair of scrubs and the nurse who’d come to speak to her at the end of the operation. “They’re here for me,” she says, and drops the journal into the hobo bag that rests between her feet. “Hopefully it’s good news.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. Good luck; with your husband’s and the babies. Congratulations.”

“I wish your mom the best. Chin up; brighter days ahead. It’s what I try to remind myself that on the really bad ones.” Bidding farewell, she gives the woman’s shoulder a comforting squeeze and offers a reassuring smile; standing and gathering up her belongings and then joining the surgeon and nurse in the hall.

“This is where you tell me good news, right?” Esme hopefully inquires. “Because we could use some good news after the last six weeks we’ve had.”

“Nothing BUT good news,” the doctor assures her, then lays a hand on the small of her back and guides her away from the door. “The surgery was a complete success; more so than we’d envisioned going on based on the CT scans and MRI. We were able to fully repair both the labrum and the rotator cuff; they were damaged worse than we initially thought and the repairs took longer than we expected them to, but things are all taken care of. He’ll need extensive physio, but he can expect the return of at least ninety percent mobility. He’ll need at least eight weeks; in a sling other than sleep, no lifting anything over ten pounds over head, no repetitive motions. Physio can begin next week.”

“What about the pins and needles he was having? I know how bad they were; he couldn’t even hold a fork or spoon or even pen at times. What was causing THAT?”

“The shoulder replacement he had wasn’t done as neatly as it could have been; a lot of scar tissues pressing on nerves. We were able to move that as well. We did some tests; fingers and thumb responding normally. There shouldn’t be any more issues.”

“What about pain? AFTER he’s healed. Because he’s spent years in pain. Horrible pain. Will it be an improvement? Because I would really love for him not to have to live like that. To be able to finally get a good night’s sleep. Is that too much to ask or…?”

“After he heals, there will more than likely be some residual discomfort. That could last weeks, months, even years. BUT it will be easily managed by just over the counter pain medication. As far as a life of chronic pain, that should be behind him now that the repairs have been made. But I suggest not returning to such a...vigorous...line of work.”

“That’s behind him. We’ve already discussed that. It’s strictly office work from now on. And being a family man. We’ve got five littles at home and two on the way. I’m going to need him to help with all of that. Thank you; for taking care of him. And for putting my mind at ease. He deserves to feel good. He deserves to rest.”

“I’ll be around to check on him later. All the orders for meds have been sent upstairs. Everything went great; no problems whatsoever. It’s been a long road. I’m sure this marks the end of it.”

She nods in agreement, then turns to the nurse. “Is he okay? Can I go and see him now?”

“He came out of sedation about half an hour ago. We would have come and gotten you sooner, but there was some misunderstanding. Communication issues. We weren’t exactly sure what he was saying. He kept asking ‘where’s Me?’, so we kept telling him where he was. We thought he was referring to himself; that the meds were affecting his brain and he was calling himself as Me. Instead of I. He got a little irritated. That we couldn’t figure out he meant YOU.”

“How irritated?”

“A little grumpy. One of the nurses called him adorable during it. That made him even worse.”

She can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, that would. I’M Me. That’s his little nickname for me. He’s been calling me that on and off for almost seven years. I’m sorry; if he caused you guys issues. He can get a little...testy.”

“Between us, it really WAS adorable. I trust you won’t tell him that.”

“Mum's the word. He hates when I call him that. And I’ve been married to for six and a half years. But he does have his moments. Of being really adorable. Don’t let that tough exterior and all the tattoos and scars fool you; his bark is usually a lot worse than his bite.”

“Well he certainly is a cutie in the state he’s in right now. And he has been asking for you. I’ll take you down right now. He’ll be happy to see you. He is rather...what’s the word...loopy...from the drugs.”

“Loopy Tyler is one of my favorite ones. Thank you,” she addresses the surgeon once again. “We needed this kind of news. Thank you for taking such good care of him. It ends this whole nightmare on a pretty positive note. Couple more days and it’s officially over.”

“I’m sure it’s been a tough road. You’re almost there. It’s almost over.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “At least the most painful part of it.”

****

His eyes are closed as she approaches; his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath, those impossibly long and dark lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. Unlike others in the recovery area; he’s young and in extremely good health; years of working out and living an active lifestyle making him less at risk of post surgical complications. A lifetime spent being high energy and possessing incredible stamina and adrenaline have served him well; needing no additional breathing supports like cannula provided oxygen or intubation. And it’s the first time he’s ever looked THAT peaceful; his features soft and relaxed and a small curving his lips. She feels optimistic; grateful that the surgery went so well and that a life of chronic, excruciating pain will be behind and he will be able to finally rest. No more tossing and turning for the better part of the night and into the wee hours of the morning. No more having to climb out of bed to seek out pain meds or to the hop in the shower; the alternating of steaming hot and ice cold bringing some semblance of relief. He deserves better than that; he’s earned being pain free and able to rest easily and comfortably for the next half of his life.

She lays a hand on the top of his left foot; lightly squeezing and then trailing her hand up his shin and along his leg as she steps to the side of the bed. His eyes flickering open when her fingers make contact with hers; gaze blurry and slightly disoriented, but the smile on his face growing. 

“Hey baby,” he greets, a voice deep and raspy. A mix of the dry air and the effects of the medication being pumped into his system; pain medication mixed with the fluids that make its way into him via IV line.

“Hey,” she says in return, as her fingers push their way through his and she tightly grips his hand. She leans over the bedside railing to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, then pulls back to look at him. Smiling as her fingers push through his hair; palm coming to rest on the top of his head, thumb repeatedly brushing against his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Where were you? I told them to get you. Hours ago.”

“It was actually only thirty minutes ago, babe. I came as soon as they got me.”

“You sure?” His eyes narrow in confusion. “That it’s only been that long?”

“I’m sure. Things are probably moving at a snail’s pace for you.”

“I was worried. I thought maybe you left. That you took off.”

“Where would I have taken off to? Why would I leave? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I don’t want to. Get rid of you. At all.”

“Good,” she presses a kiss to his forehead. “Because I’m sticking for the long haul. How ARE you feeling?”

“I’m not feeling a damn thing.”

She grins. “Must be some good drugs they have you on. I’m going to ask for some of those; after I have the twins. I might need to be knocked out for a while; giving birth to six AND seven. Naturally.”

“We didn’t decide that yet.”

“You don’t get to decide, husband. I’m doing it. A natural birth. In the water. And nothing you can do or say will change my mind. I’ve always wanted to do it. This is the last chance. I’m not letting you talk me out of it.”

“Do I have to go in the water?”

“Usually the dad gets in, yeah.”

“I don’t know if I can do it. I know what comes out when a baby’s born. I have to sit in it? That’s extra gross.”

“Suck it up, princess,” she teases, releasing her hold on his hand in order to put down the railing and then sitting on the edge of the bed. “We’re going to do it; whether you like it or not. And you’re going to get in the water. Getting me pregnant THIS many times? It’s the least you can do.”

“Anything you want, baby. Whatever makes you happy. That’s all I want. You to be happy.”

“You do a very good job at it. I have no complaints. Well, I do have one. This is getting way too routine; spending this much time in a hospital with you. Think we could end that? Doing this so much?”

“No more hospitals. This is it. The last time. I promise.”

“Good,” she says, and runs a gentle hand over the fabric of the sling that holds his arm securely in place. 

“Did you talk to the doctor?”

Esme nods. 

“Good news, I hope.”

“Very good news. He was able to fix everything. Rotator and labrum. They were torn worse than he thought, but he was able to repair them. And those pins and needles you were getting? Scar tissue from your replacement surgery was pressing on some nerves. He got rid of all that too. Once you heal, you won’t get the fuzzies anymore.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “The fuzzies? That’s what you call it when one of the kids complains about their foot falling asleep. The fuzzies. What else did he say? The doctor?”

“He said that you’ll get no less than ninety percent of your mobility back.”

“That’s way more than I’ve had for the last seven years.”

“And he said no more chronic pain. At least not the level you’ve been experiencing. Nothing more than something over the counter meds won’t take care of. You’ll be able to FINALLY get a good night’s sleep. When’s the last time that’s happened? Not including being doped in a hospital.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Too long. That’ll be behind you soon. You’ll finally be able to rest,” her voice quivers with emotion. “You deserve to rest.”

“Baby...don’t…” he reaches up to lay his hand on the side of her face; thumb skimming over her lips. “...don’t do that. Please don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“They’re happy tears,” she assures him. “Tears of relief. Because you’re going to be okay and the worst part of the last six weeks is behind us now. This is the last one; last operation. Two more days and you’re home. Then we never have to think of this place again. Or THAT place.”

“Dhaka.”

She nods. “We need to move past it. It’s been seven years. Of holding onto it. It’s time to leave it behind. For good. And I know I’m more guilty of that than you are; letting it bug me so much.”

“We’ll get past it together. I’ll help you.”

“I know you will. I know for a fact that you won’t be able to resist. No matter how many times I tell you to just worry about yourself, you will still be worrying about me and fussing over me and wanting to take care of me.”

“I love you. Why wouldn’t I want to take care of you? By the way…” he slides his hand up to cup her cheek. “...you are so beautiful.”

She grins. “You are so high.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make it less true. Are you okay? Are you feeling alright?

“I’m okay. It’s a better day. Not nearly as nauseous.”

“And the babies?”

“Babies are good too. They’re moving a hell of a lot. Wanna feel them?”

That smile brightens once again, and he gives an enthusiastic nod.

“Here.” She takes his left hand in both of hers and places it against the right side of her stomach. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same one that’s always causing trouble. Always on this side; I think it’s their favourite spot.”

“That’s probably a girl. Guys are lazy. That’s not a lazy baby.”

“Other one gives a good kick every now and then, but they’re pretty chill for the most part. Remember Declan? He could go days without moving. Especially near the end.”

“He weighed ten pounds, seven pounds when he was born. He ran out of room; there was no space left to move around. “

“Used to scare the shit out of me! Not being able to feel him.”

“I remember having to take you to the hospital. More than once. Because you’d freak out about him not moving around. He was fine; he was just an asshole.”

“He was trouble right from the start. What do you expect from a baby conceived on birth control? The biggest ‘ooops’ ever.”

“I was going to say ‘what do you expect from a ginger?’.”

“He’s going to be a handful, do you realize that? He’s not even three yet and look at the havoc he can cause. Imagine when he’s a teenager?”

“Kid is going to be a fucking tank. He is strong as hell. Even now. Remember how he’d make you cry? When he used to kick? I remember him bringing you to your knees a couple times.”

“He’s a little charmer though. He’s such a cutie. He reminds me so much of you. Totally underestimating his own strength; big and tough yet an enormous teddy bear.”

Tyler frowns. “I resent you calling me that.”

“I don’t care. I know what you’re like. What you’re REALLY like. Away from the job. And I’m the only one who does. That makes me pretty damn lucky.” She leans in to kiss him, then affectionately tousles his hair before laying her hand over his; heart swelling at the absolute pride and awe in his eyes -and the pure, unabashed love written all over his face- as one of the babies continues to move against his palm. “The radiologist called. About the ultrasound.”

There’s worry in his eyes when his gaze meets hers. “Something’s wrong?”

“Nope. Everything is perfect. THEY’RE perfect. They’re growing and they’re strong and everything is how it should be. Nineteen weeks and four days. Pretty much what we both thought. Our math wasn’t too far off.”

“That’s all he said? All good news?”

“All good news. And, he told me what they are. Do you want to know or…?”

“I wanna know. Besides, I know you wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret for THAT long.”

“A boy and a girl. Just like the tech suspected. The girl is a bit bigger; long and lanky. Like her oldest sister. And her daddy.”

“But they’re okay? BOTH of them?”

“Both of them. There’s no issues. No repeat of what happened with the boys. They’re healthy and they’re thriving.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “A boy AND a girl?”

Esme nods. 

“Is it wrong I’m glad it wasn’t two girls?”

“No. I was actually praying it wasn’t. Three will be enough. Even for me. Are you happy?” She brushes his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead. “It’s good news, right?”

“Very good news. And yeah, I’m happy. Very happy. And you’re okay too, yeah? There’s nothing wrong with you? You were having those problems and…”

“I’m fine,” she assures him. “It was just stress. That’s all it was. My blood pressure has gone down and I’m not having the cramps any more and there’s been no bleeding. It’s all good, Tyler. I promise. I’d tell you if it wasn’t. I wouldn’t hide that from you; if something was wrong with them or me.”

“You would tell me?”

“I would tell you. No hesitations. We don’t do that anymore. Hide things from each other. No matter how bad it might hurt. I’m good. Other than wanting to puke my guts out eighty percent of the day. There’s nothing for you to worry about, okay? I’m fine.”

“It’s my fault. The stress. Why you were having problems.”

“No. It’s not. None of it’s your fault. You didn’t know what was going to happen. In Dhaka. There was no way you could have known. That was out of your control.”

“But OTHER things. The pain meds. The drinking.”

“No,” she says, and places two fingers against his lips. “You’re not going to do that. I won’t LET you do that. That’s behind us. All of it. We agreed we’d leave it there. That none of that would follow us back here.”

“But…”

“No ‘but’. It’s what we agreed to and we’re both sticking to it. We’re not going to talk about it, we’re not going to think about it. We’re going to put that all behind us and we’re going to go on with our lives. We start fresh; we put Mumbai and Dhaka behind us and we never mention them again. I need to do that. I need YOU to do that. None of that matters anymore.”

“I hurt you. And I never meant to. I’m sorry, Esme. For everything. For breaking promises and going back to the job. I should have left a long time ago. I never should have let it come between us like it did.”

“Tyler, it doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t need to…”

“I DO need to. There’s things I need to say to you. That I should have said a long time ago. And I need you to let me say them.”

“You know what, the drugs are messing with you. They’re making your brain weird. You always get emotional when the sedation starts wearing off. Why don’t you just close your eyes and rest and…”

“No,” he insists. “This isn’t about the meds and how they make me feel. This is about me needing to say things to you. That I’ve been needing to say for a long time. For seven years. Please. Let me say them.”

“Alright,” she says, and gives a reassuring smile as she pushes a hand through the longer strands of his hair; gentle fingertips clearing away the beads of perspiration that glisten on his brow. Profuse sweating a common occurrence when he’s coming out of sedation. And both her gaze and her voice are calm and soothing as she grazes her knuckles along his jaw line; pad of her thumb swiping over his bottom lip. “What is it, babe? What do you need to tell me? I’m listening.”

“I love you. More than you could ever know. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And I didn’t think I ever would. Love someone. I didn’t think I deserved that; someone that looks at me like you. Sometimes I still don’t think I do. And I’m sorry; for all the shitty things I’ve done and mistakes I’ve made and all the promises I broke. I’m sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“I know, Tyler. I’ve never doubted that you love me. Ever. Even when things were at their worst. And I’ve never expected you to be perfect. We BOTH went into this knowing how messed up the other was. And we’ve both screwed up. Big time. But I never questioned whether you loved me. I hope you know that.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you, if you did. I promised you so many things that I went back on. The job, the booze, the meds…”

“And that’s all behind us. None of that matters anymore. This is a new start. Once you get home, a whole new life begins. One where you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for strangers. You can rest now. You deserve to rest. You deserve another chance.”

“I GOT another chance. Seven years ago. And I fucked it up. I took it for granted. I took YOU for granted. And I never meant to. It’s just who I am. I destroy everything and everyone I love. And I lose them. I always lose them.”

“It’s okay...shhhh…” She takes his face in her hands and presses her lips to his forehead. “...it’s alright...just breathe. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You haven’t destroyed anything. And you’re not going to lose me. Or your kids. It’s okay, Tyler. Just breathe, baby.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and rests his forehead against hers; fingers of his usable hand curling around her wrist. “I fucked up. Huge.”

“No. You didn’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be here right now. Pregnant with your children. With your son and your daughter. If you fucked up, I would be long gone. And so would your kids. Stop doing this to yourself. Hating yourself like you do. I love you so much and it kills me inside that you think this way about yourself. You know how you hate when I shit talk myself?”

He nods.

“That’s how I feel when you do it. And don’t even try to say it’s not the same thing and that you somehow deserve it. Because you don’t. You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. You’re a wonderful husband and you’re an amazing father. And you need to realize that. How much we love you. How our lives would be so empty and horrible without you. I hope one day you can see that. How much we need you and love you.”

“I hope so too.”

“You’re not the monster you think you are. You never have been. You’ve made mistakes. But you never deserved to pay for them with your life. You do realize that, right?”

“Sometimes.”

She pulls away and pecks his lips. Eyes glistening with both tears and love as they search his; fingernails lightly and repeatedly scratching along his jaw. “You haven’t fucked up. I’m here, aren’t I? Your children are here. These babies are here. You didn’t fuck up at all.”

“Everything I have is because of you. Because you stuck around on that bridge. Because you stuck around through all the bullshit of the last seven years. None of this would exist if you didn’t do what you did in Dhaka. My kids wouldn’t be here. WE wouldn’t be here.”

“I did what I did because you deserved a second chance. You deserved to live. And part of it was for selfish reasons too. I wanted more time with you. I wanted to see if we could make things work. If we could prove Gaspar wrong. If two broken and messed up people COULD make a whole. Even if it is slightly dented.”

“We DID make something.”

“We did. We made five...well SEVEN now...little and amazing somethings. We’ve had a really good life. Despite everything. And we’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. I think we’re both in this for the long haul.”

“Yeah…” he manages a smile. “I know I definitely am. And I’m sorry, Me. For how bad things got. In Colorado. When I went back to the job without even talking to you about it. When I started back drinking and taking the pills. I’m sorry. I was scared and I didn’t know how to stop feeling that way. I was worried about failing you and the kids and it fucked me up. So I ran. It’s what I do.”

“No. It’s not what you do. Have you ran in the past three years? Since that all happened? Since we BOTH made the effort to work at things and fix them?”

Tyler shakes his head. 

“Don’t put all the blame on yourself, okay? For how bad things got. We both have shitty track records with relationships. It shouldn’t be a total surprise that neither of us really knew how to fix things. Not like we ever learned from example, right? We didn’t have the best role models growing up or first spouses. It’s no wonder we fucked up. It wasn’t all you. And I’ve never blamed JUST you. I’ve blamed myself plenty, believe me.”

“I never meant to hurt you. All the times we fought and it got bad and I said the shit I did to you. All that horrible, mean shit I said to you. I never meant any of it. It was all bullshit. I was hurt and I was angry and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry. I never meant any of it.”

“I know you didn’t. And we got past it. I never hated you for it or held a grudge against you. I’ve forgiven you, Tyler. It wasn’t you talking. Not the real you, anyway.”

“And I’m sorry it took six months for me to get my shit together. To fight for you. For us. I wanted to fix things. I just didn’t know how.”

“But you DID. And that’s all that matters. It’s behind us. Let's leave it there, alright?”

“I needed to say all of that. I needed you to hear it.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. It was good to hear all of that. Thank you,” she presses a tender kiss to his lips. “Do you feel better? Now that you got that all out?”

He nods.

“How about getting some rest now? It’s what you need. What your body needs.” She lightly ruffles his hair and kisses him once more, then slides off the bed. “Here…” she grabs the blanket that has pooled around his ankles and tugs it upwards; pulling it to the middle of his chest and tucking it around him. “...get some rest, babe. You deserve it. Just close your eyes and sleep, alright?”

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?”

“I will. And they’ll be taking you back up to your room soon. Riley and Ovi are going to watch the kids; so I can stay overnight with you. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“Sleep,” she encourages, and combs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss on his brow. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Two more days,” he says with a wistful smile, as she settles into the bedside chair. “That’s it. Two more and it’s all over. The worst part of it, anyway.”

“Three more sleeps,” she chides, and puts the railing back on the top, then reaches through it to take his hand in both of hers. “And hopefully they’ll be really good sleeps.”

“Hopefully,” he agrees. “You’ll be here? For sure?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve hung around this long, haven’t I? I think you’re stuck with me.”

“I can think of worst fates.”

“Close your eyes, babe. Rest. You deserve that. You’ve earned it. You’ve MORE than earned it.”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

She smiles and squeezes his hand. “I love you more.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“It’s not a competition, Tyler.”

“No. But even if it was, I’d win.”

“You just can’t help yourself can you. Mister Competitive. Rest now, okay? It’s all over. You’ll be good as new soon.”

“Better than I was before?”

“You can’t improve on perfection.”

He chuckles. “And you call me biased.”

“I can’t help it. I kinda have a crush on you.”

“Yeah? I kinda have one on you too.”

Smiling, she draws his hand through the railing and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Loosening the grip of one of her hands, she reaches across the bed to stroke his hair; yes never leaving his face and the soft, gentle smile nerve abandoning her lips. Not even after he falls into a deep, comfortable sleep.


	114. Chapter 114

He’s stirred awake by the light through the window; brilliant rays harsh and punishing even through lidded eyes. Dizzy and slightly disoriented, he has hazy recollections of drifting off under the effects of heavy sedation and then coming to in the confines of the OR recovery room. He doesn’t remember falling back asleep; his healing body succumbing to the effects of pain medicine and the remnants of the Propofol that had been flowing through his IV line throughout surgery. And there’s no sense of panic when he does come to; comforted by the warmth provided by the sun and the familiar weight of that small, supple body pressed against his. Sometime after returning to the room, Esme had climbed into bed next to him and he’d never even realized it. Not twitching or stirring as she pulled back the covers and snuggled in as tight as she could; resting on her hip with both arms wrapped tightly around his midsection and her head using his chest as a pillow. Wayward strands of hair falling over her face and across her brow; the tips of her lashes skimming the tops of her cheeks, that smattering of freckles so prominent on the slope of her nose and across the bridge.

He doesn’t have the heart to wake her; knowing the toll the past six weeks has taken on her both physically and mentally. She’s been a rock through the entire thing; sticking by his side while in the hospital and Dhaka, fighting to get him returned to Australia even though he was nowhere near stable and enough yet. Putting her own health and well being on the back burner in an effort to concentrate on his issues and his recovery. She’d rarely lost her cool and never let her emotions get the best of her; even though he knew she was falling apart inside. While he's always known how strong and resilient she is, the events of the past month and a half have only cemented it; his wonder, amazement and respect growing ten fold as he watched her handle everything that was dumped into her lap. She has no idea just how incredible she actually is; how powerful and steadfast she can be and how much he appreciates the unwavering loyalty and faith she always heaps upon him. And it’s phenomenal; how much love and patience actually resides inside that little body. 

His head hurts; a minor throbbing sensation that sits at the base of his skull and travels across his forehead. It’s a side effect from the anesthesia used; along with tremors that travel through the body and profuse sweating. He can feel it gathering at his temples and the bottom of his hairline; able to taste the salt on his tongue when he runs the tip over his top lip. It’s almost at the end; the final remnants of the Propofol slowly leaving his system. He’s thirsty and hungry; mouth parched and throat painfully dry, stomach growling and painfully contracting. The pain is minimal; nothing more than a bit of discomfort and tightness around the edges of the three separate incisions. More scars to add to the collection. Like a road map that covers different parts of his body, some are smooth and thin while others are thick and jagged; a handful still fresh and newly healed, others dating back decades. They all come with a story. A kid being kicked and beaten with fists and any kind of ‘weapon’ a drunk and enraged father could get his hands on. A teenager with no fear believing he was invincible and indulging in questionable and downright stupid activities. A soldier on the ground in the Middle East; peppered with shrapnel from roadside bombs and IEDs and bullets. And a mercenary with a death wish; putting himself as close as he could do the most dangerous shit in hopes that something -or someone- would finally take him out.

The latter seems so ludicrous now; a drunk and an addict who was too much of a coward to do the dirty work himself. He’d come so close. Many times. To having that ‘death wish’ fulfilled; suicide at the hands of another. Seven years ago, it had taken him only five days to get away from that line of thinking; spending years wanting to die and then needing less than a week to change his mind. All it had taken was meeting that one person that reminded him of what it was like to feel alive again. Who made him experience emotions that he hadn’t felt in years; far more powerful and all consuming than anything he’d ever gone through before. Someone who looked at him with enormous brown eyes and the softest, sweetest smile; regarding him with affection, understanding and compassion instead of pity and disgust. Who he’d uncharacteristically trusted from day one; effortlessly opening up to her and letting her see the sides of him that he never showed anyone else. Who...even in the most twisted and even dangerous and dire situations...could make him smile and laugh and see the ‘bright side’ even when there seemed like there was no hope left. Two days in Dhaka and he’d known that this wasn’t just some passing thing; it far exceeded just two lonely and broken people using each other and their bodies as an escape. Mindless, ‘no strings attached’ sex didn’t come with the things they’d experienced together. The delicious afterglow where they exchanged long, tender kisses as naked limbs softly rubbed against each other. The banter and and teasing and the ‘pillow talk’; conversations smoothly transitioning from light hearted to painfully and heartbreakingly intense.

Not even forty-eight hours into their stay in that dirty little old room and he’d known. That he’d met that one person that could...and would...change his entire life. And he’d come so damn close to it never happening; one bullet from a teenager eager to impress a drug lord had almost succeeded in taking away everything he’d just found. Had Farhad finished the job that day, the last seven years would have never unfolded. No experiencing real and unabashed love. No second chance at being a husband and a father; righting the wrongs by doing everything in his power to not be the person he was before. Five lives wouldn’t be on this earth; beautiful, innocent beings with his smile and their mother’s tenacity and so much joy in their eyes and an abundance of love and compassion inside tiny bodies. It remains a wonder at times; how someone like him...with all his mistakes and baggage... had been given the chance to help create such incredible little humans. And had been blessed with someone that gave him that opportunity; who loves him with every fibre of her being and into the depths of her very soul.

****

“Tyler?” 

Her voice is soft and tired and he loves the way it sounds; tiny and adorable and completely vulnerable. And he sneaks his good arm from underneath her; fingertips pushing strands of hair away from her face and his lips finding her forehead.

“Yeah, babe?” 

“You’re awake.”

“I’m awake,” he confirms, and loops some of those dark tresses behind her one ear, then the other. And she smiles against his lips when he kisses her; eyes still closed when she stretches languorously and issues a long, soft sigh. She’s so beautiful; no makeup gracing her features and those freckles on full display. She always complains about them; tales of how she teased because of them growing up and she’d grown to detest them. All he sees is the added beauty of them; how they create something so adorable and almost innocent. And she gives a giggle and wrinkles her nose when both a fingertip and his lips attempt to follow those tiny little dots. 

Her eyes flutter open; the smile growing bigger as she regards him. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” She reaches up to clear damp strands of hair out of his eyes and then wipes at the beads of sweat that cover his forehead. 

“Pretty good. A bit of a headache. Shaking like hell. And this sweating like a pig bullshit.”

“It’s par for the course with you. Always happens when the last of the sedation is on its way out. Did you sleep okay?”

“I must have. I don’t even remember being brought up here.”

“You were out. You didn’t even move a muscle when the nurse was checking your vitals and taking the sling off and having a peek at the incisions. They look by the way; the scars won’t be too bad. Or too noticeable.”

“I stopped caring long ago about what they look like. Have you seen my face?”

“I have.” A fingertip traces the still healing scar above his right eye, followed by the one under it that travels to his temper. “And it’s a very beautiful face.”

“And you have the nerve to call me biased?”

“You have the most beautiful face ever,” she declares, then presses a kiss to the underside of his chin and then one to his lips before sliding off the bed. A hand going to the small of her back and wince on her face she pads around the end of the bed. “If I’m this uncomfortable already, what’s it going be like a few months from now?” she inquires, as she grabs a reusable water bottle from the bedside table and then disappears into the bathroom. “Am I going to be able to walk? How big are these babies going to be?”

“I think your issues are less about the babies and more about falling asleep in this bed. Not exactly comfortable and not a lot of room to move around.”

“Well in two days, we’ll be back to sleeping in the comfort of our own home. Together.” The water turns on and quickly off again, and she emerges with a damp face cloth in one hand and the bottle in the other. “You have any pain?”

“Other than my head? No.”

“I’ll get the nurse to get you something for your headache. But first…” she hands him the bottle of water and then slides back onto the bed, carefully kneeling on the mattress and waddling her way towards him. “...let’s take care of other things.”

He sips slowly at the water as she tends to wiping the sweat from his face; the cloth cool and refreshing as it moves slowly and gently over his face. As much as he complains about being ‘babied’, he actually enjoys seeing this side of her and relishes the tenderness and affection that comes with it. That slight smile that curves her lips and delicate touch of her hands; the way her eyes remain locked on his before slowly drifting away and taking in his entire face. If anyone was meant to be a mother and a nurturer, it’s her; the ability to go from tenacious and fearless momma bear to patient and calm caretaker the next.

She leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips and then pulls back and smiles; a hand ruffling his hair. “Better?”

“I always am when you’re the one playing nurse.”

“Do you want to take a shower? I’m sure there’s something that can cover the incisions. A wet rag can only do so much.”

“I thought you’d go full nurse on me and offer a sponge bath.”

She grins. “You only want a sponge bath because you know that mine come with ‘extras’.”

“I actually want one because I probably stink. But if you’re throwing some ‘extras’ in…”

“Husband, your hormones know no bounds. And let me check…” she buries her face in his chest, inhaling deeply and then pulling back with a slight frown and her nose wrinkled in slight disgust. “...I’ve smelt worse. But…”

“Does that mean it’s sponge bath time or…?”

“It means I’m going to ask your nurse the best course of action.”

“You’re no goddamn fun.”

“There’ll be lots of time for fun,” she assures him, and then tosses the face cloth on the bedside table. “Want me to go and find out? About a shower? I can get you something for your headache at the same time?”

“I’m fine right now, babe. If it gets worse, I’ll let you know.”

“How about not letting it get worse?” Esme suggests, and attempts to slide off the bed once more. Giving a small yelp of a surprise when a strong arm wraps around her waist and pulls her close; giggling when it yanks her face down onto the bed. “You’re a brat,” she dramatically pouts, and blows wayward strands hair off her face and reaches back to adjust her now loose ponytail. “You need a shower, you need something to eat , you need…”

“What I need is to cuddle my wife.”

She grins. “Excuse me? Did you just say the C word?”

“Maybe…”

“Did you just admit to liking a good snuggle?”

“I never…”

“‘Fess up. You like when we cuddle. You like to be snuggled.”

“I like to snuggle YOU. There’s a difference.”

“You ALMOST admitted it. I’ll accept that.” She settles on her hip once more, wrapping both arms around his torso and resting her head back against his shoulder. “Are you sure…?”

“Stop.”

“I was just going to ask if…”

“I said stop.”

“But…”

“Esme...stop…” He drapes an arm across her shoulders and then reaches around to place his palm over her mouth. “...shhh.”

Frowning, she swipes her tongue against the rough, callused skin.

“Did you seriously just lick me?” He laughs, and wipes his palm across the sleeve of her t-shirt. “ I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“Actually, you do. You know exactly where it’s been for seven years. And you’ve never protested once.”

“Okay,” he presses a kiss to her temple and pulls her close, hand settling on the side of her bump. “I’ll give you that.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Getting there. Why? Are you?”

“I’m pregnant with twins. I’m always hungry. The surgeon said you could eat once you were feeling up to it. I can go downstairs and grab us something.”

“In a while. No rush. Let’s lie here for a bit.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head and then rests his cheek against it; palm moving in slow, smooth circles against her baby bump. “Everyone’s quiet in there.”

“About time. They only kept me up nearly all night. Then decided to throw a party after lunch. Don’t get them riled up, okay? Let them chill for a bit.”

“Remember how Millie used to always start moving around when I talked to her?”

“She was a smart cookie even in utero. She’d move in the direction of your voice. And she always kicked where you’d put your hand. Daddy was her favourite; right from the start.”

“One day I won’t be. One day it won’t be cool to be ‘tight’ with your old man. One day she won’t want to hang around me; I’ll be old and embarrassing and she won’t want her friends thinking we still do shit together.”

“I know she’s only six, but when has Millie ever given a shit about what other people think? I don’t see her ever bending to peer pressure. And I definitely don’t see her NOT being a daddy’s girl. Her world revolves around you. There’s no one she loves the way she loves her daddy. I don’t think you’ll have to ever worry about that changing.”

“And I know I said you could have the one that looks like you, but…”

“I lost her the second she was born and she looked up at you with those huge dark eyes and just snuggled right into your man boobs.”

“Pardon me? Man boobs?”

“You are very sexy man boobs, babe. All muscly and hard and…” she sighs dreamily. “...why do you have to be like that?”

“Like what? Bad ass and aggressive?”

“I was going to say jacked and sexy, but if you want to go with badass and aggressive…”

“I’ll accept the sexy part. But jacked? Not even close now.”

“Your body looks exactly like it did when we first met. And you were jacked and cut and just...damn…”

“I am NOT jacked or cut. I’ve lost a lot of weight and muscle.”

“You almost died. I think some weight and muscle are a small price to pay for staying alive to help raise your children and grow old and gray with your wife.”

“You know what? That’s a very good point. There’s no price I wouldn’t pay for that.”

“Besides, once you’ve healed enough and the doctor gives the green light, you can go back to working out. It’s like not you can never step foot in a gym again. And we’re building one that’s even bigger and better; the gym of your dreams. I know for a fact I’m going to become a gym widow. I’ve relegated myself to that.”

“Will you still wander in and surprise me with coffee and smoothies?”

“I COULD do that.”

“Wearing those yoga shorts that you use for pyjamas and a tank top?”

“I thought you didn’t like when I walked in dressed like that? You always complain that it’s too distracting. That you don’t get a full workout when I do.”

“I don’t get a full weight training workout in. But you showing up like THAT does get me some extra cardio.”

She grins. “You do work up quite the sweat now that I think about it.”

“You’re better than any personal trainer, babe. I don’t mind putting in the work when you’re around.”

“And you do very good work,” she praises, and turns her face towards his; knuckles scraping along his jaw as he leans down to kiss her. “So...I was thinking…”

“Nothing good comes after that.”

“Hear me out. It’s nothing bad, I promise. Just a little something I was thinking about. When it comes to the babies.”

“We’re getting rid of the first five and just keeping them?” he teases. “You know, the shark hasn't had a sacrifice in a while. He’s probably getting antsy. And hungry.”

“We could always offer up Kyle. That’ll keep him fed for a while.”

Tyler smirks and pecks the tip of her nose. “I like the way you think, wife.”

“In that case, you won’t mind hearing about what I HAVE been thinking about. When it comes to the babies. I’m thinking we should add onto our bedroom; put in a walk-in nursery. If we build our room out towards the woods, we could extend the balcony all the way around the side of the house. We’ve talked about that before; making a bigger area up top.”

“We could do that.”

“If we loop the nursery around the ensuite bathroom, then that means we can put in another door off the hallway.So when the twins are older, they don’t have to come through our bedroom to get to the rest of the house. Make sense?”

“Makes sense if it can be done. We’d need the contractor to tell us that. When I get home we’ll add stuff to the list to give to him.”

“You don’t think we’re going overboard do you? All these changes at once?”

“I’d rather get it all done at the same time instead of spending years doing projects. And it isn’t a money thing, so…”

“Speaking of money…”

“Uh oh.”

“It’s not an uh-oh. It just leads into something I was going to tell you about. I ordered some baby clothes online. Boy ones. After we found out for sure Addie was going to be a girl, we got rid of everything that was for a boy. We have to start from scratch. And seeing as I’m already out of the first trimester, I figured it was safe to start. That I wasn’t going to jinx anything if I jumped into it.”

“Whatever you want Me.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head and gently pats the side of her stomach. “Whatever makes you happy. If you want to go nuts and buy all kinds of baby stuff, you go right ahead. I’m not going to argue or stop you. It’s the last one, right? Well, two. Might as well enjoy every second.”

“You’re such a good husband. You’re a keeper.”

“Happy wife, happy life, yeah? Do what makes you happy, babe. That’s all that matters to me; you being happy.”

“And then I was thinking…”

“Christ, there’s more?”

“...about names.”

“Already?”

Nodding, she removes one arm from around his torso and lays her hand over his as it rests against her bump; fingers sliding easily through his. “I was thinking we should call the girl Brooklyn.”

“You do?”

“It’s the name you originally picked for Millie; until you decided at the last possible second that you liked Amelia better. And one of the twins WOULD have been named that had they been a girl. Addie...well naming her after your mom was a no brainer.”

“Brooklyn works. Brooklyn Rake. Not bad.”

“It has NOT been easy coming up with names that go with Rake. I love you, but it’s been difficult coming up with names that sound good with THAT. Brooklyn Kaia. Wasn’t that what you originally had for Millie??”

He nods. “And the boy? What are you thinking for him?”

“Another T name would work well. But that might be a little difficult; we already used all the good ones.”

“We’ve only used two.”

“The two good ones. Tanner and Tyler. We used the best ones and we’re left with all the shit.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call Tyler one of the best ones, but…”

“I still don’t get your issue with having your first born son named after you. I don’t…” she stops mid sentence, eyes widening as she looks up at him and her top teeth digging into her bottom lip. 

“What? What’s that look for?”

“I don’t mean that. What I just said.’

“What are you talking about? What…?”

“I called TJ your first born son. I didn’t mean it the way you think it did.”

“Me, I didn’t think anything of it. What’s…?”

“He’s NOT your first born son. And I know that and I didn’t say it out of disrespect for Austin or what you went through. I’d never do that. Disrespect you or him or…”

He tightly squeezes her hand. “Esme...stop. You’re reading way too much into it.”

“I didn’t mean to sound like I’ve forgotten about him. Or like I’m acting as if he never existed. Because HE was your first born son and…”

“And he got sick and he died. It happened. And it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with that. Yeah, he was my first. But he wasn’t my first boy with YOU. TJ was. Nothing you said was disrespectful or hurtful or anything like that. Don’t think like that, okay? You’re not that type of person. You never have been. Now…” he presses a kiss to her temple. “...T names.”

“What do YOU have in mind?”

“Thomas?”

She shakes her head. “Too old sounding.”

“Timothy?”

“Timmy Rake? I don’t think so.”

“Theodore?”

Her nose scrunches in disaster. “Uh, no.”

“Trevor? Travis? Tucker?”

“Nope, nope, and nope. I want something different. Something you don’t hear all the time. Something that has personality. What about an aboriginal name? You have three very good Aboriginal friends; one that dropped his entire life to work for you and help you, one that is the sole reason you’re even still here, and one that is just a normal everyday guy who went out of his way to bring Addie to us in Dhaka. It would be fitting, don’t you think? A name that can pay homage to them?”

“I don’t know any Aboriginal names. Do you?”

“Not off the top of my head. I’ll message Andy. He’s my go to. My BFF.”

“I thought I was your BFF?”

“That goes without saying. I mean my non marital BFF. Am I yours, your BFF?”

“You really have to ask that? That’s not obvious? Didn’t we establish this seven years ago almost?”

“You do realize that’s only three months away, right? Seven years? It’s been seven and a half since Dhaka Part One. Meaning it’s almost seven married. Sometimes it’s hard to believe, don’t you think? That’s it been that long? Since we took the old plunge? You looked so cute that day; first time I ever saw you in a suit and tie.”

“I remember how you threatened me not to shave or get a different haircut.”

“I didn’t threaten you.”

Tyler smirks. “You told me you’d walk out if you got there and I’d gotten rid of the beard and did something different with my hair.”

“That was hardly a threat. But I’m glad it scared you enough NOT to do anything drastic. I would have cried; if you’d shaved off the beard and had a new haircut.”

“You DID cry.”

“Those were happy tears, not devastated ones.”

“You know what else I remember? How beautiful you looked. In that yellow dress. Those little flowers in your hair. My baby girl growing inside of you. It was amazing. Seeing you like that. I can’t explain it; I just know I felt it. And it felt fucking incredible.”

“It was a good day.”

He nods. “It was. A very good day, actually. One of the best days of my life. And speaking of that day…” he pulls his hand from hers and reaches for the chain on around her neck; index finger hooking around the ring that dangles from it. “...when do I get this back?”

“Anytime now. You had your last surgery; no reason you can’t put it back on. What if I don’t want to give it up? What if I like it just where it is?”

“You like it better than on my finger? How am I supposed to advertise to the thirsty woman that my dick belongs to someone else? Doesn’t the ring send the message? Prevents me having to break hearts?”

“That’s an excellent point, husband.”

“Then cough it up. It’s not yours to keep. It already has a home.”

She pushes herself up into a sitting up position and reaches around to the back of her neck; pausing when he presses a feathery kiss to her temple and then gathers her hair in his hand and moves it out of the way. It’s those little things that she seems to enjoy the most; tiny gestures of care and affection that let her know how much he loves and adores her. That the only main concern he has is that she’s comfortable and happy. 

“I’d help undo the thing, but…”

“Little fingers work better anyway.”

“I have to admit that’s true. Your little fingers do good work.”

She gives a derisive snort and a roll of the eyes, then opens up the clasp at the back of the necklace and let’s it dangle in front of her; the thick white gold band tumbling into her palm. “I guess I get to do this. Again.”

He holds his hand out; palm down and fingers splayed. “I guess you do.” 

“Serious deja vu,” she says, as the fingernails on one hand lightly tickle his palm as she slips the ring into place. “Remember how Koen gave me the wrong one and I was so nervous I didn’t realize it and tried putting MY ring on YOUR finger?”

“And you got so flustered and started to cry and just tried to jam it on even more? Yeah. I remember.”

“They were good nerves, I promise. No cold feet or anything like that. Did you get cold feet?”

“Nope. I just wanted to marry you.”

“You weren’t the least bit nervous?”

“Honestly? I was just worried you weren’t going to show up. That you’d come to your senses and realize what a mistake you were about to make. But here we are. Almost seven years and you’re still fucking your life up.”

“Good thing I know you’re joking or I’d totally give you shit for talking down on yourself.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

“I know when you are. Even if your face and your voice say otherwise, I just know. And for the record…” she once more places the chain around her neck and secures the clasp, then perches herself on his good thigh and holds his face in her hands. “NOT showing up would have been totally fucking my life up.”

“I don’t know about that. I…”

“Nope.” She silences him with a loud, sloppy kiss. “You’re not getting the last word, husband. You can’t have it all the time.”

“Can I kiss you though?”

“I’ll allow THAT.”

He lays a hand on the top of her head and slowly drags her fingers through her thick, dark tresses. Eyes remaining locked on hers until his palm settles on the back of her neck; fingertips lightly pressing into the soft flesh as he pulls her into a long, lingering kiss. Both of her arms circling his neck as he both hears and feels the content sigh that escapes her, and he shivers at the press of her breasts against his chest and the way she intentionally and aggressively slides further up his thigh. 

His teeth capture her bottom lip when she pulls away; a grin tucking at the corners of his mouth. “Is there where we get to make out?” 

“Actually this is where I give you blue balls.”

“You WOULD.”

“Even if we DID have a way of managing it with that thing on your leg, I am not having sex with you in a hospital. I love you and my lust for you knows no bound, but no. Just no.”

“When did you become so pure and prudish?” he teases. “We’ve had sex in some pretty scandalous places.”

“But never in a hospital. Other things in a hospital but not THAT.”

“So let’s do other things then.”

“For one, you just had surgery…”

“A very minor surgery.”

“Two, I’m starving.”

“I’ve got something filling for you right here, baby.”

“You’re a pig. You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“I am going to go and get something for your headache and then grab us something to eat. I’m sorry I’m such a buzzkill. Still love me?”

“Always.” His hand slides from the back of her neck and settles on her cheek, smiling when she turns her face into it and presses a kiss to his palm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You. My kids. Us. For saying ‘yes’ almost seven years ago. And for saying it again a few months back. Hard to believe it’s been that long, huh? Since we went to The Kimberely?”

“Some days it feels like yesterday. Others, it feels like a lifetime ago. We’ll definitely have to get back there; once you’re healed up and all the additions and renos are doing. Take the kids to see where daddy used to live.”

“I was thinking it could be like the mommy and daddy hideaway. The ‘safe space’ we take off to for some adult time.”

“Isn’t that what we use the gym and the garage for?”

“That’s a very good point, wife. But still, thank you. For saying yes. When I probably gave you tons of reasons to say no.”

“You may have been an insufferable bastard once or twice, but nowhere near enough to scare me away. And you know what? I’d say yes a million times over. In a heartbeat.”

He grins. “You would, would you?”

Nodding, she pushes her hands through her hair and kisses him; her lips soft as they move slowly and lazily against his own. Giving his hair a playful tug, she slides her hands down to the back of his neck, a content sigh escaping her lips as she nestles her face in that favorite place of hers; nose pressed tight against the trap muscle. 

“I thought you were going to get us something to eat,” Tyler chides, and skims his knuckles up and down her spine, palm calming to rest on the spine. 

“I’ll go,” she says, and tightens her hold around his neck. “In a minute.”

*****

Two hours after a filling lunch and a shower, he manages to fall asleep; succumbing to the powerful and quick acting medication injected into the IV port still embedded in the top of his left hand. The initial pain meds given right after surgery had already begun to wear off, leaving him with an intense, throbbing ache that began in the back of the neck and travelled to his fingers. It’s the most vulnerable Esme has ever seen him; the chronic pain he’d suffered for years usually making him irritable and angry, not trembling and teary eyed and almost unable to catch his breath. Relief had come quick thankfully; the meds almost instantly making him light headed and groggy and then falling asleep shortly after. 

Once more she’d climbed into bed next to him; recognizing -in his eyes and the lines on his face and the furrows across his brow- that he needed the comfort only physical contact could bring. He’d never ask for it; still struggling -even after nearly seven years of marriage- to completely let his guard and abandon the notion that needing comfort and being vulnerable is a sign of weakness. Instead she’d expressed HER need for the closeness; citing the long and excruciating six weeks they’d been through and her unstable pregnancy hormones and her floundering self confidence now that Declan had called her ‘fluffy’. While it’s a small thing, it gives him a sense of purpose during his own mental struggle; the ability to comfort and protect her giving him back that sense of control and confidence that Nathan had so crudely ripped away. And it had been exactly what he’d needed; the weight and the warmth of her body against his and the feel of her palm moving slowly and soothingly over his chest and stomach. 

Even half an hour later, she doesn’t have the heart to move; his breathing long ago becoming slow and shallow, the arm that had been curled around her waist falling limply to the mattress. His body is solid against her and its familiarity is comforting; the rise and fall of his chest and the tickle of his warm breath and the smell that never completely evaporates. It’s a reminder; of how close she’d come to losing him and how she’d never take a single moment with him for granted again. And she closes her own eyes; soothed by the soft fabric of the hospital gown against her cheek and the heat that radiates off of him. For once everything seems right; the nightmare of the last six weeks finally coming to an end. The worst is now behind them; the surgeries and the complications and the fight to get him sent home to Australia. All that’s in front of them is a new life; a slightly terrifying mental health diagnosis but the confidence that not only can it be managed, that it will somehow make them both stronger. As individuals and as a couple.

A nap sounds good. Warranted and needed. And what better moment is there for one than curled up with the love of your life? The one person who looked past all your flaws and rough edges and fell in love with you ‘as is’. Who has remained loyal and faithful; protecting you at all costs. So willing to sacrifice their own well being and lay down their life for yours. It’s a humble realization. To know that someone loves you THAT much. That they look at you as if you’re the most incredible and beautiful creature on the entire planet. 

A light rapping of knuckles against the door rudely tears her from imminent seat, and she’s opening her eyes and glancing towards the hall when one of the afternoon nurses pokes her head into the room. A sheepish and apologetic smile curving her lips.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but there’s a bit of an issue. Someone is here that shouldn’t be here. Someone from the ‘blacklist’.”

Her immediate thoughts are all of doom and gloom and terror. That somehow someone had indeed survived Dhaka and had come all the way to Australia to enact revenge.

“It’s your brother. This is the third time in the past week alone. This time he isn’t going away so easily. Causing quite the scene out there. He won’t settle unless you come out and speak to him. We could call security, but…”

“I’ll be right out. Tell him I said to calm his shit or I’m calling the cops. That might get him to settle a bit; the thought of getting arrested and shipped back to Colorado.”

“I’ll let him know,” the nurse says, and with a final understanding smile, retreats to the hall and shuts the door behind her.

Sighing heavily, Esme yanks the elastic from her pony tail and shakes her hair loose; combing her fingers through it and then leaving it messy and free as she carefully slips from the bed. She tucks the two layers of thin sheets tightly into her husband’s sleeping form; careful not to jar his recently repaired arm or to stir him from his slumber. She takes the absence of any movement or change in breathing as a good sign. Normally he’s an incredibly light sleeper, even under the influence of pain meds; a byproduct of his PTSD and often extreme hyper-vigilance. He’s finally at peace; years of pain and discomfort caused by sacrificing his body in the most dangerous and chaotic ways possible. It’s behind him now; no more risking his life in the pursuit of helping others and righting the wrongs of the vicious and deranged. But while the blood has been finally washed from his hands, deeper issues remain; memories of war and killing forever etched into his very core. And she reaches out to comb her fingers through his hair; leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead and then one to each corner of his mouth before stepping away. 

Kyle is pacing the length of the nurses station. Loudly arguing with an obviously flustered and nervous business clerk intent on sticking to the rules of the ‘blacklist’; everyone must show ID proving who they are and no one will be allowed in if their names are written down. His had been one of the first Esme had insisted on getting down on record; even before their epic blowout and she’d told him to disappear from their lives. Just too toxic and judgemental; a visit from his self righteous and obnoxious brother the last thing Tyler needing while recovering both physically and mentally. It would only enrage him; Kyle’s smugness and holier than thou and misplaced anger and bitterness. And even in the shape he’s in, he’s still able to do some serious damage to someone. THAT kind of set back is something she wants to avoid. At all costs.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” she spits, snags her brother by the back of his t-shirt and aggressively yanks him away from the nurses station. “YOU are not welcome here.”

“I came to talk to Tyler. What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? He’s my husband. My husband who almost died six weeks ago.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Esme. It wasn’t THAT bad.”

“It wasn’t that bad? You don’t even know the half of what happened in Dhaka. What Nathan did to him inside that storage unit. How close he actually came to never seeing his children again. And never mind what was done to him physically. Let’s talk mentally. The fact he had to hear how his daughters and his wife would be gang raped and tortured and then murdered. What do you think that did to him? Hearing that? Not just about me, but his baby girls. Do you think that was pleasant for him?”

“I think you make a lot of excuses for him. And I don’t think anything THAT bad would have ever happened.”

“You’ve never dealt with people like that before., Kyle. People like Mahajan and Asif. You have no idea how sick and depraved people like that can be. And you know what, I’m not talking about myself right now. I’m talking Tyler and my children. Asif and Mahajan’s people would have killed my entire family. They would have done sick and twisted shit to my babies. So don’t you dare stand and tell me nothing that bad would have happened. Because it would have. If Tyler didn’t sacrifice himself for his.”

“He’s just a regular saint, isn’t he. You just have your head stuck so far up his ass, that you can’t even see just how bad he actually is. How he dragged you into this life and manipulated you into staying.”

“You know what…” she holds a hand up to silence him. “...this whole conversation? The whole ‘Tyler is a manipulative, abusive bully who stole you away and keeps you trapped here by knocking you up’ thing? It’s played out. It’s old and it’s stale and it’s ridiculous and I am done entertaining it. I’ve been done for months. He is nothing like you say he is and you won’t disrespect him to me.”

“He’s everything I saw he is. You’re just blind to see it. What’s the term for it? Stockholm Syndrome?”

“Oh my God…” she laughs at the sheer ridiculousness. “...are you fucking serious right now? You’re referring to my husband as my what? My abductor? My captor? My warden? Are you out of your goddamn mind? I stayed here seven years ago, because I wanted to. Because I was already in love with him and…”

“In love with him? You barely knew him. You were whoring yourself out to him. You were his whore.”

“I am talking. Not you. Me. You may have been able to bully me when I was younger, but I’m not that same girl anymore. The Esme that existed back then? She died on that bridge in Dhaka. She never came back from there. The one that survived? That one that stopped being a doormat for her family? She’s strong and she’s resilient and she doesn’t give a fuck what you or anyone else has to be say. I don’t care if you think it sounds ridiculous; falling in love with someone that quick. And I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d think it’s impossible. It’s pretty hard for someone with no soul and a shrivelled up heart to fall in love.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

“You know what, I have no idea. Because you’re not my brother. I don’t know who you are. I don’t even recognize you anymore. What the hell has happened to you?”

“Do you ever think that it’s you that’s changed? That you’re the one with the problem? Leaving your family behind and moving here for some guy you barely knew? A guy that kills people for money. Who moves you and your kids as far away as he can from the people who love you and…”

“Tyler is NOT the villain here. When I met him, I’d given up on myself. Mark ruined me; he beat me down and destroyed me and he made me feel like I was worthless. That I didn’t deserve to love or feel loved. And then I met Tyler; totally by chance and completely by luck. I was broken and he picked up every damn piece and he’s spent seven years putting me together; all that time righting another man’s wrongs and never bitching and complaining about. He saved me. Not just on that bridge, but in every way a person can be saved. I didn’t have a life before I knew him. What did I have, Kyle? Tell me what I had.”

“A family.”

“No. When dad died, that was it. Everything fell apart. Everyone started showing their true colours. Dad was the one who kept everything and everybody from falling apart; from tearing one another to shreds. And once he was gone, our family didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t stand a chance. And the only thing I regret, is that I didn’t leave sooner. I let you and mom and Michael bully and frighten me into staying. I wasn’t strong then, But I am now. I’ve had to be.”

“Because of him,” Kyle nods in the direction of Tyler’s room. “Because of the life he brought you into. Because…”

“I went willingly into that life. A life with him. I knew what he did for a living. I did it too. Maybe not to the same degree, but I was right in the midst of things. I was the one who helped guys like Tyler find the information they needed to help people. And to punish the people who hurt them. I knew what I was getting into. I knew his past and all his dark secrets and all his mistakes. I knew how much baggage he came with. In the same way he knew all about mine. You have no idea what went down during those five days. It wasn’t what you think it was. It was more than physical. And I’m sorry you can’t see that or understand that. In the same way I’m sorry you can’t accept him. Because he’s a good man. A damn good man. And he’s an amazing husband and an even better father and you are so blind in your hate and your jealousy of him that you can’t even try and see all of that.”

“Jealous?” Kyle snorts. “What would I have to be jealous of?”

“What he has. A wife and children. A beautiful home in an incredible place. And what do you have? A string of failed relationships and one night stands with strippers and call girls. You know, I’ve spent all this time blaming Nik for things going south with you guys. For ‘preying’ on my brother. And believe me, Nik and I have our issues and she’s caused me a lot of grief. But getting to know you over these last few months? REALLY getting to know you and see you? I now realize she was way too good for you.”

“I didn’t come here for this. To listen to your bullshit, Esme. I didn’t…”

“I told you to stay away. From me, my children , my husband, I don’t want you here, I don’t want you near my house, I don’t want you going around the kids’ school. And don’t even try and deny that last one; TJ saw you watching them. And if you ever show up there again, you’ll regret it. Because Tyler may not even be fifty percent, he can still one hundred percent kick your ass. Do you really want to tempt that? Do you really want me going in there right now and telling him all this? Because he’s got enough strength and enough rage left in him to do some serious damage. Is that what you want?”

Kyle sighs heavily.

“You have no right being here. What? You thought you could catch him with his guard down? Just waltz in after he just had surgery and lay your bullshit on nice and thick? He’s not a stupid man, Kyle. You have spent all this time seriously underestimating him. You know what he’s capable of doing. Nothing pisses him off more than someone fucking with his family. Especially me. Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

“I just came to talk to him. I just…”

“You have nothing to say to him. I won’t let you get anywhere near him. Consider that my last act of sisterly generosity. I’m not keeping you away from him for his sake. I’m keeping you away for yours. Go. Go home. Wherever the hell that is anymore. I am telling you to leave and I am telling you to never come back. And don’t you even dare go near my kids. You’ve done enough damage. Talking shit about their father right to them? You thought I wouldn’t find any of this out? The boys and Millie told me everything you’ve said. And it’s nothing but bullshit. How dare you try and ruin their father in their eyes. They exist because of him. They’re on this earth because of him. And you won’t disrespect my kids like that.”

“Esme…” he reaches for her as she attempts to step away. “...I never….”

“Don’t!” she warns, and yanks her arm away. “Don’t you even think about touching me. Leave. Before I do go in that room and tell my husband every damn thing you’ve said and done. Do you really want to find out what he’s capable of doing when it comes to protecting his family? Do you know what will happen if I tell him you’ve been creeping on our kids while they’re at school? Do you like breathing, Kyle? Do you like being on this side of the ground? Because I can change all of that for you.”

“You would do that? To your brother? To your own family?”

“You’re not my brother anymore. You’re not my family. My family is here. In Australia. It’s Tyler and it’s my kids and it’s our friends that love us like we’re family. You and I? We are done. Not just here, but done, as in COMPLETELY done. And if you know what’s good for you, you’d convince Allison to sell the house and get the hell out of here. You won’t enjoy it; having a target on your back. We’re finished. You walk out of this hospital and my life and you never come back. I never want to see you again.”

“You’re really going to do this?” Kyle asks, as she steps past him and begins the journey towards Tyler’s room. “You’re going to make that choice? Me for him?”

“I already did,” she says, as her fingers curl around the door handle. “Seven years ago.”


	115. Chapter 115

It’s been just over two months since he’s sat in this exact spot; the passenger seat of an idling SUV. Almost ten weeks since he left for Mumbai; saying goodbye to his wife and his kids and then spending several excruciatingly long moments in the driveway as he fought the urge to just shelve the entire thing. Despite years in the job and numerous departures involving tearful kids and a nervous, already worried wife, he’d never felt heartache THAT intense. It had been powerful and overwhelming; one side of him wanting nothing more than to leave the dirty work to other people and just get out of the car and head inside. He’d earned that; a chance to turn old and gray beside the love of his life and to watch his children grow. He had been sacrificing himself for so long; putting his body on the line for people that didn’t appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears, nor the very real chance that he’d never get to see his own family again. He’d stopped being a human being and became a weapon to them; seeing him as nothing more than ‘hired help’. They never paused to consider that he had a life of his own; believing that anyone who was willing to kill for a living didn’t have too much going for them in the first place. What did he have to lose? If he was so eager to put himself in the line of fire and dive into something so dangerous, it must have meant that he didn’t have anything substantial or meaningful to live for. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He had EVERYTHING to live for; a beautiful wife that loved him to the ends of the earth and beyond, gorgeous children that idolized him and truly believed he could chase away all the demons and monsters. It should have been enough; the realization of just how much he did have to lose. An entire life that could be gone in an instant.

But it hadn’t been. And there’s no excuse for that. He should have had in him to walk away; devote himself to being a husband and a father. To enjoying the domestic life instead of spending so many nights away. But it had terrified him; the thought of leaving behind the one thing he was good at. He’d been scared to be home; afraid that he’d somehow be a complete and utter failure to her and the kids. And that had been a powerful driving force; the fear of letting her down. Of not being the man that she needed and wanted and so desperately deserved. He’d let THAT come in between him and true happiness; choosing a life of bloodshed and adrenaline and unpredictability over quiet nights in and sunset walks on the beach with his wife and reading bedtime stories to his kid and tucking them in before kissing them goodnight. He had wanted all of that. If only he’d felt as if he deserved it.

It feels as if an entire lifetime has passed since he’s been home and it almost seems foreign; as if he’s never seen that truck in the driveway or the three mountain bikes that are stacked together and leaning against one of the closed garage doors. Suddenly he notices even the tiniest and most significant of things. The dent in the garage’s aluminum that had been made when TJ had fired a lacrosse ball at it just a little TOO hard, the way one of the address numbers is slightly askew and not perfectly aligned with the others, the very faint stain on the driveway left behind by sidewalk chalk; a massive rainbow that Millie had painstakingly created and then cried over when the first big rain erased it. Everything is familiar but seems strange at the same time; as if seeing his surroundings through entirely new eyes and with an entirely new sense of gratitude. He’d come so close to never see any of it again; the front door that Esme had insisted -upon moving in- that he paint turquoise to ‘add a pop of a color’, the hammock swing that the three oldest had begged to bring from Colorado and now hangs from the sole tree in the front yard, the four sets of handprints and corresponding initials that had been permanently sealed in the pathway stones that lead to the front door. Things that he’d never really thought of before; small moments in time that now suddenly seem so huge. 

Beside him, Esme sits quietly behind the wheel; fingernails absentmindedly against the steering wheel. While the drive home had been one filled with excitement and almost anxious anticipation -and nearly non stop giggles and chatter on hers- neither have spoken since pulling into the driveway. It’s a mixture of things; relief that the worry and the stress of the last two months has finally come to an end, the realization that he’s finally home and they’re able to be under the same roof instead of relying on visits to the hospital, the uncertainty of what lies ahead of them. While the initial battle is over, others still need to be fought. The road to complete -or as close to it- recovery is going to be a long and painful one; months if not years of both physical and occupational therapy to rebuild both his gross and fine motor skills. And the everyday war he fights with his own mind isn’t ever going to be won; a lifelong regime of medications and seeing a shrink on a regular basis. His discomfort with both the diagnosis itself and the means of managing it are a small price to pay; no mountain too steep or high to climb if it means keeping his family together. 

He breaks the silence first; a grin tugging at his mouth as he nods in the direction of the elaborate terracotta planters that sit on either end of the top step. “Finally got those things planted, huh? Only took what? Four months to get to them?”

She nods and inhales deeply; the breath she releases laboured and shaky. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the way her hands tighten around the steering wheel with enough force to turn her knuckles and fingertips white. And the tell tale signs of imminent tears; the teeth digging into her bottom lip and the quivering chin. 

“Baby, what…?” He doesn’t get the chance to finish; all the pent up emotion that she’d been carrying for weeks finally getting its release. All the stress and the worry and the fear; the exhaustion that came with trying to raise five kids and keep a house and business running while tending to him. She’s tougher than she’ll realize. Or admit to. So much tenacity and resilience in that tiny little body. What would have easily broken a weaker woman has only made her stronger. And his love and his respect and his admiration for even deeper. “Hey…” he unbuckles his seat belt and shifts closer; a simple move made difficult by the ‘cage’ on his leg. “...Me...what’s going on?” He runs his palm over the top of her head and down her hair; looping strands behind her ears and then skimming his knuckles along her jaw. “Talk to me.”

“I’m hormonal as fuck,” she sobs.

“I know THAT. And I’m sorry. It’s half my fault you are.”

“It’s all your fault. If you’d just told me about the after care when you got the old…” she holds a hand up and makes a scissoring motion with middle and forefinger. “...I wouldn’t be losing my mind right now.”

“This is a good thing, yeah? The babies? I know it’s a surprise, but…”

“Of course it’s a good thing. It’s always a good thing. We made two little humans together. But look what it does to me! Look what your sperm does! Makes me totally irrational. Like a crazy person!”

“Something tells me it’s not just my sperm to blame. Come on….” he lays his hand on the side of her head and pulls her closer; lips pressing against her temple. “....talk to me. Please. What else is going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer for anyone over six. Just tell me, okay? What’s going on?”

“I guess it’s just hitting me all at once. Just BOOM.”

“What is? Me, I can’t try to fix something if I don’t know what’s going on. So please, baby…” he pushes his hand through her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “...talk to me.”

“Six weeks ago, I never thought this was going to happen. You coming back here. I didn’t think you were even going to make it out of the operating room, never mind the hospital. I thought that was it; that the last time I talked to you WAS the last time. I didn’t think we’d get to come back here together. Back home. I thought I’d come back here alone and have to try and figure out life without you and how the hell to raise all these kids on my own.”

“It’s okay, Me. That’s all behind us now. You don’t have to think about that anymore.”

“It’s just overwhelming. I went from thinking I was going to have to bury you to THIS. And it’s just...I don’t know...it’s just this huge relief. To know that it’s over. That we got through it and you’re home and we can finally get on with our lives. We don’t have to worry about Mahajan or Asif anymore. Seven years, Tyler. Whether we realized it or not, we’ve been watching our backs for seven years. And now we don’t have to do it anymore. And that’s huge.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But it IS over. For good. We won’t ever have to go back there. Or think about that place ever again. That’s the past, Esme. And now it’s time to leave it there. Nothing good is going to come of it; dwelling on Dhaka and what happened there. You’ve got to let it go, babe. Especially the bridge. It’s time to let that go.”

“I know it is.” She sniffles noisily and frantically wipes at the tears that stain her face. “But I don’t know HOW. I don’t know how to let it go.”

“I’ll help you. We’re in this together, right? You don’t have to figure shit out on your own. We’ll get someone for you to talk to; so you can just unload and just get all the crap out that you’ve been holding onto for seven years. You’re not going to go through it alone, okay? I got you, Me. I’ve always got you.”

“Is it weird that it’s kind of scary? That this is the end of it? I mean, this kind of life is all we’ve known for seven years. We’ve been watching our asses and having to worry about people coming after us for so long that we’ve just become used to it. It’s weird, right? That it’s kind of scary that things are going to be different now?”

“It’s not weird, it’s just...a change. Any change is hard, right? Even if it is for the best.”

“Listen to you being all logical,” she grins through her tears. “You really aren’t just a pretty face.”

“I’ll let you get away with calling me that,” he chides. “ Just this once, though. Don’t get too comfortable with that word.”

“I thought you’d be the emotional one. You’re the one that had it the hardest. You’re the one that almost died, not me.”

“Maybe I’m just a wreck on the inside. Or maybe I’m just glad it’s all over. That I’m home and we can just get on with things. That’s what we want, yeah? Just get on with it? A new way of life? It’s what we need.”

“It’s just been such a fucking shit show. It’s been the longest two months of my life. And now you’re home and you don’t ever have to leave again.”

“Well, I might want to leave the house ONCE in a while.”

She manages a small laugh, then clears away the last remaining tears. “You know what I meant. No more putting your life on the line for people who don’t even appreciate it. Who don’t even say ‘thank you’ for what you do. Aren’t you tired of that life, Tyler? I’m tired of that life.”

“Yeah, I am. I was tired of it a year ago. But…” he shrugs. “....here we are.”

“You didn’t exactly have a choice, did you. It’s not like you went out and took a job. It wasn’t exactly something you could turn down.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have wanted me to.”

“The only person in the world I trust...really and truly trust...is you. And yeah, it totally sucked. That you had to go back into things. That you got DRAGGED back into it. And that Nathan turned out to be a psychotic dick head. But there’s no one that could have done what you did; protected me and the kids like that. I never have to worry when you’re around. I’m never scared when you’re in charge of things. And you did what you had to do. For me and the kids.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. For them.”

“Do I particularly like that you almost died for me? TWICE? Not really. But at the same time, you’re the only person I DO trust with my life. The only time I’ve ever felt safe and protected is when I’ve been with you.”

“Even now? Like this?” He nods down at the sling keeping his right arm contained and the metal apparatus encasing his thigh. 

“All the time. I never worry when I’m with you. Even like this, I know you’d stop at nothing to protect us. And just the thought alone is enough.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“You don’t have enough. You never have. But that’s okay; I have enough for both of us.”

“I don’t know how I can ever look on the bad side again. Not with my biggest cheerleader in my corner. You know how you always say I make you feel safe and protected? You do the same thing for me. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. I never have to worry about no one having my back when you’re around.”

Laying a hand on the side of his face, presses a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “I always have your back, Tyler. I always will. You don’t have to ever doubt that. And I hope you never have.”

“Not for a single second. Now do you think we can get in there? Get back to our lives? Start on a new one? Do everything right this time?”

Nodding, she smiles as his hand comes to rest on the nape of her neck, eyes closing when his lips touch her brow. “Yeah,” she says, and gives a long, content sigh. “I like the sounds of that.”

*****

Ovi waits in the front foyer. Halting his anxious pacing the moment the front door clicks open and barely waiting for Tyler to have one foot inside before throwing his arms around his neck; unabashedly shedding tears of both relief and happiness. He’s been with them for almost seven years; a huge part of their family and loved as if he were one of their own. At times he’s still a young kid trapped in the body of a grown man. Still shouldering the burden of the things he’d seen, heard, and done when he was merely fifteen years old. The effects have been long term; years of therapy managing to soothe most of the wounds left behind, but not able to fully heal them. But he’s come a long way; no more night terrors or angry outbursts laced with aggression, and fully ready to ‘fly the nest’. It’s bittersweet for Tyler ; proud of how far Ovi has come, yet not quite ready to let him go. It’ll be hard when the time comes when the kid does leave; thousands of miles away and living a new life and eventually starting a family of his own. And for that moment, as the younger man tightly embraces him and openly weeps; it’s like he’s transported back seven years. To that terrified and overwhelmed teenager that had sat on Gaspar’s steps and cried in his arms.

He smiles and gives Ovi’s cheek a playful tap when the kid pulls away, then tousles that mop of unruly thick, black hair. “I heard you’ve been quite the help. Keeping shit from falling apart around here.”

“Just trying to make things easier,” Ovi says with a sheepish grin and a shrug of the shoulders. “We’re all in this together, right? Are you okay? You look okay.”

“I’m doing alright. Could be worse, could be better.”

“He’s been stubborn is what he’s being,” Esme complains. “He mastered using a walker with one hand at the hospital. But do you think he’ll use it here? Not a chance.”

“I don’t need to use it.. Did I not make it inside fine? I can walk pretty good without it. Didn’t have to resort to carrying me, did you?”

“I would have left your ass on the front walk,” she chides, and then places her hands on his chest and stands on her tiptoes, turning her face up towards him. “Welcome home, baby. Feel good?”

“Feels damn good.”

“You need to go and sit and take it easy and I’m going to get the bags out of the car and…”

“Yeah, you don’t do stuff like that anymore, remember? Not supposed to lift anything over ten pounds.”

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

“You’re considered pretty close to high risk, so yeah. No. Leave it.”

“I’ll get everything,” Ovi offers, and then slides his feet into a pair of flip flops. “Declan’s watching tv; Addie’s attempting to move around the living room. She’s not getting very far, but she IS getting really frustrated.”

“Yeah, she has her dad’s temper. They all do,” Esme remarks, as she slides out of her own shoes and tosses her bag onto the bench by the front door. “Declan!” she hollers, as she gathers her hair into both hands and uses the elastic around wrist to secure it into a loose ponytail. “Gingerbread!”

“Me?” He bellows back from further into the house.

“That’s your name, right? Declan? So yeah, you. Come here.”

“Why?!”

“Because I said so, that’s why. I have a surprise for you! Come here.”

“Alright...alright…” he huffs. “...fine, mum.”

She gives a derisive snort and stares pointedly at Tyler. “And who does THAT sound like?”

“The cable guy WAS a bit of a dick.”

“What, mum? What?” Declan’s voice is accompanied by the patter of his bare feet against the tiles. “I’m busy.”

“You’ve been watching the same episode of Paw Patrol for three days. That’s NOT being busy. Someone’s come to see you. Hurry up! You want your surprise or not?”

“Surprise for me?”

“Not if you don’t haul butt. Snooze or lose, Mister.”

“I said I’m coming. Jesus, mum.”

“Don’t ‘Jesus, mum’ me, mouthpiece. Come on. Come see your surprise.”

The footfalls become heavier and louder as casual strolling turns into a full out sprint; tips of his toes peeking out from behind the baseboard and one hand appearing from the edge of the wall, followed by a shock of red hair. “What you want? What…?” he pauses, gray eyes growing impossibly large, deep dimples in his cheeks noticeable as a smile spreads from ear to ear. “...daddy!” his shriek bounces off the walls and echoes through the house. In his usual ‘bull in a china shop’ style he barrels towards them, giggling when -despite the muscle loss and one good arm- his dad is still able to effortlessly scoop even his stocky body off the ground. “Daddy!” he throws both arms around Tyler’s leg and squeezes as tight as he can. “Daddy home!”

“I’m home, mate. Finally.” He presses a kiss to each chubby cheek and to the top of Declan’s. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, daddy.” He places a hand on the side of Tyler’s face and presses a noisy, sloppy kiss to his lips. “Home? Good?”

“Yup, home for good. Took a while, huh?”

“Took forever and ever. Mum!” Declan excitedly slaps his hands together and then tightly clasps then. “Daddy home!”

“I know. I’m the one who went and picked him up. You happy, Gingerbread?” She stands on her tiptoes to peck his lips and then combs her fingers through his hair. “You happy daddy’s home.”

“VERY happy. Daddy, kiss.?” Declan puckers his mouth, giggling when a loud, smacking kiss is plastered on his lips and then one on each cheek and his forehead. “Daddy happy?”

“Crazy happy. You been good? You’ve been behaving?”

“Kind of,” the toddler admits. 

“Kind of? Why just kind of?”

Declan sighs heavily and then gives a dramatic pout. “It’s hard. Being good.”

“Well I need you to try harder, okay?” Tyler presses a kiss to his son’s forehead. “I’m going to need you to help me take care of mommy, alright? Mommy and the babies? I can’t do as good of a job as I normally, so I’m counting on you to help me out. Sound good? Think you can help take care of mommy?”

“And babies?”

“Yup. And babies too. Think you can help? Think we can take care of all three of them together?”

Declan nods enthusiastically. “I help.”

“Mommy is fine and doesn’t need to be taken care of,” Esme informs them. “This isn’t the first time she’s had more than one baby in her tummy. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Mum, we take care of you. And babies. ‘Kay? No argue.”

“You heard him,” Tyler grins. “No argue.”

“You two are going to give me a lot of gray hair over the next few years, I just know it. Come on Gingerbread; let daddy put you down. So he can go and see Addie. He’s only got one good arm and one good leg. So…”

“He’s alright, mommy. I got him. I won’t drop him. Not intentionally, anyway. Where’s your sister, little red? She walking and talking yet?” He hoists Declan further up into his arm and settles him on his good hip. “Got a boyfriend?”

“No silly daddy. Addie still baby. Still tiny baby. Wee baby. Like mummy.”

“Excuse you?” Esme frowns over her shoulder as she leads the way down the hall and towards the living room. “First you call me fluffy and now you’re calling me a wee baby? Do you want to see your third birthday?”

“Mummy fluffy. Cute and fluffy.”

“You’re taking your ass kissing from your daddy. Addie…” She calls the baby’s name as she steps into the living room; the now six month old lying on her stomach in the middle of the living room floor, reaching for various toys placed in a circle around her; babbling and giggling the second her fingertips make contact with one. “Addie...Adeline...hello?”

Addie pushes herself up onto her hands, arms fully extended, and smiles in her mother’s direction.

“Hey baby girl. I brought you a visitor. Someone you’ve been missing a whole lot. Who’s this handsome guy? Your favourite in the whole world? Want to come see daddy? He’s been waiting to see you. Give you cuddles.” She curls an arm around Tyler’s waist, aiding him as the best he as he makes the final steps to the couch. It’s a lot of work; all the way from the car and into the house and to where they are now. But he’s tenacious; never knowing the meaning of the word quit. “You okay?” she asks, as he carefully lowers himself onto the couch, a gentle hand brushing. way the droplets of sweat that gather on his forehead. “Don’t over do it, okay? Especially not the first day. Addie, come see daddy. Can you try and get over here? Watch her, babe. Watch what she does. It’s hilarious.”

He drops Declan onto the cushion beside him; the toddler giggling hysterically when he tickles his sides and tummy. “Are you laughing at our child’s expense?”

“Just watch. She’s so funny. She has your temper already. Just watch. Addie…” Esme perches on the edge of the coffee table and holds out her hands. “...come see. Come see daddy. Don’t be shy; you’ve been trying to do this for two weeks now.”

The baby manages to get onto both hands and knees; babbling and giggling and shrieking with excitement when she manages to aggressively rock herself to and fro. But when she attempts to actually crawl, her hands slide out from under her and she lands face first on the plush area rug. A pint sized temper tantrum ensues; complete with screaming and balled up fists and tightly clenched toes. 

“That’s Millie all over again,” Tyler remarks. “Talk about deja vu.”

“Right?” Esme laughs, and then scoops Addie up. “Alright Miss Sassy Pants, calm yourself. It’s not the end of the world. You’re a lot further ahead than any of your brothers and your sister were. We won’t tell Millie that though; she’s competitive like daddy.”

“I am NOT competitive.”

“Sure you aren’t, husband. I distinctly remember the long hissy fit you threw when Millie beat you at Mario Kart.”

“That wasn’t a hissy fit. I was disappointed in myself.”

“You went and sat outside alone and wouldn’t talk to anyone for an hour. You brooded for just over sixty minutes.” She gives a long, tired exhale of breath as she drops beside him on the couch. “Okay go…” she presses a kiss to Addie’s temple. “....I know you could give a shit less that I’m here. Daddy’s the only one that matters.”

“Mum said shit,” Declan says. “Bad mummy.”

“Mummy’s very bad. I think daddy should spank her later.”

Esme snorts and playfully ruffles his hair, then wraps an arm around his waist and rests her head against his shoulder. “Don’t teach him those things.”

“What? That mummy likes her ass spanked?”

“Just...don’t. Take your daughter. All that matters to her is you.”

“Hey little peanut.” He scoops her up into his arm and draws her tightly against his chest; lips pressed against the side of her head and his eyes closed as he breathes in that soft and familiar baby scent. “Daddy missed you. He missed you so damn much.”

“Say ‘I missed you too, daddy’. Say ‘my two bottom teeth are starting to come in and I’m a miserable little shit at times’.”

“You could never be a miserable little shit, could you? Look at that smile.”

“Daddy’s smile. You all have it. She’s getting big, huh?”

“For her, yeah. Compared to the others? She’s still really tiny. You definitely take after your momma, don’t ya peanut? Wee like your momma. And that’s okay. Beautiful like her too.”

“We make very beautiful children.” Esme says, and stifles a yawn with the back of her hand. 

“We definitely do. That’s one thing we have been really good at. Well, that and the actual act of making them.”

“Our favourite past time,” she grins, and tousles his hair. “Gingerbread, wanna go for a nap with mommy and daddy? In the new bed?”

“No nap. No sleepy.”

“Want to try to sleep?” Tyler attempts. “Want to come cuddle? Daddy’s tired. Want to come cuddle until he falls asleep?”

“Cuddle mommy AND daddy?”

“Sound good? Cuddle in the new bed? Show me my new room?”

“Alright,” Delcan reluctantly agrees. “But no sleep. Me, no sleep.”

“We’ll see about that. I think it’s getting close to someone’s nap time. Someone with red hair.”

“He’s been fighting it,” Esme sighs, and then pushes herself up onto her feet. “He thinks he’s all grown up now. Want me to take her?”

“I’m good, Me. You worry too much.”

“I love you, you stubborn ass.” She offers a hand, giggling when he nearly yanks her off her feet as he pulls her into a kiss.

“So gross,” Declan declares, and makes a dramatic gagging noise. “Kissing gross.”

“I used to think so too,” Tyler says. “Then I met your mom. It all changed after that.”

“I was the one who made you forget about all the women who came before me,” she grins. “I bet that’s what you’re going to say next, aren’t you.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“A little. Is it true? DID I make you forget every woman that came before me?”

“About ninety percent, Me.”

Smiling, she pushes her hands through his hair and kisses him, then rubs the tip of her nose against his. “That’s enough.”

****

He sleeps through the remainder of the morning and into the early afternoon. Briefly waking once when Addie began to wail for a feed; watching through heavy lidded eyes as his wife climbed out of bed and attempted to shush and comfort their daughter as she carried him from the door. Despite his initial resistance, Declan had succumbed to a much needed nap; slipping underneath his dad’s good arm and then pressing himself tightly into his side. When he does wake it’s with a small start; temporarily confused by his surroundings and the absence of the noises that accompany hospital life. He’d gotten accustomed to it; the near constant chattering of visitors and staff, the almost continuous ringing of call bells, the faint beeping of machines. Brain accepting it as the new norm; able to tune it all out and use it as nothing more than ‘white noise’ to help you fall asleep too. 

Even with the muffled sounds of life unfolding around him, it’s oddly and eerily quiet. Unnerving, even. The noises he’d once been so used to and no longer paid attention to suddenly seeming so foreign and out of place. Declan and Ovi’s muffled voices and laughter as they play outside in the distance, the rustling and shuffling as Esme tries desperately to keep the noise level down as she moves around the kitchen and living room, the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore. It’s like he’s hearing all of it again for the very first time; his mind attempting to recognize and place the sounds and get comfortable with them. And it’s disheartening. When the life you love and cherish so much suddenly feels so unfamiliar. He’ll get used to it; his home existence once more becoming the norm and life in the hospital nothing more than a memory.

For several minutes he lays motionless in bed; forearm over his eyes as he listens to the sounds of life...HIS life...taking place around him. Declan’s high pitched shrieking and raucous laughter and the continuous splash of pool water, Addie’s little giggles and the various babbles that change in volume and pace as if she’s attempting to carry on a very animated conversation, Esme offering up the occasional ‘shhhh’ and cheerful comments s as if she completely understands baby talk and is responding accordingly. The latter makes him smile. The sound of her voice -so patient and soft and loving- and the vision it paints in his mind; his beautiful wife busying herself in the kitchen, her tiny ‘mini me’ in a baby carrier strapped to her chest or secured in the highchair. The picture of domesticity is one that he’ll never tire of; knowing that under the same roof there’s a woman that loves him to the ends of the earth and children that adore him. Things he never thought he’d ever experience. Or that he deserved.

It’s a slight struggle to get out of bed; even with the fully adjustable back set in a recline position. The hip is tight and sore; the metal apparatus on his leg feeling heavier and more cumbersome than usual. He probably overdid; refusing the help of the walker or even the lone crutch given to him by his physiotherapist. Despite Nathan breaking him both mentally and physically, he somehow still feels more confident in his own strength and abilities; not wanting to rely on any form of ‘help’ and preferring to do whatever it takes -both small and big steps- to build up his stamina and confidence. So he can’t help smirk at the sight of one of the kitchen chairs that now sits at the side of the bed; turned backwards with a note taped to the top of it and the words “PLEASE USE THIS TO GET OUT BED. I DON’T WANT YOU FALLING ON YOUR ASS. THANK YOU. I LUV U'' written on it in pink magic marker. If she’d been in the room, he would have laughed it off and ignored it. Maybe even half heartedly bitched about her constant worrying and her ‘nagging’. But instead he decides to take the advice. Wincing and groaning as he swings both legs over the edge of the bed and then tightly grips the back of the chair with one good hand and pushes himself up onto his feet. The dizziness returns; a leftover symptom from what the specialist is now calling ‘post concussion syndrome’. Something he’ll likely experience from time to time for the rest of his life.

“You made it,” Esme greets, a broad smile spreading from ear to ear. As if his mere presence...his long time 'homecoming’ is enough to just brighten her entire existence. And he could happily live the rest of his life seeing that smile every second of every day; a mere ego and confidence booster knowing that he’s the one that’s responsible for it. “Did you get my love note?”

“Kind of hard to miss. And before you ask, yeah, I listened to it.”

“I’m breaking you down a little at a time. Only took me seven years to make even the slightest dent in you. You know…” she stands at the island with Addie in the baby carrier; rhythmically swaying from side to side as she busily chops and slices a selection of fresh vegetables laid out in front of her. “...they did give you a crutch and a walker for a reason.”

“And I’m not using them for a reason.”

“What reason is that? You just feel like being difficult? You like to give me gray hair? You want me to have a coronary?”

“I want you to stop worrying so much. I know my own body. I know what I can take. And you what else I know? Your body...especially when you’re knocked up...doesn’t handle worry so well.”

“What are you going to blame when I’m NOT pregnant anymore and I’m still a worry wart?”

“That’ll just be you being your neurotic self,” he teases, and pauses behind her in order to drape an arm across her collarbone and press a kiss to the back of her head.

“Oh listen to the fancy words coming from the badass mercenary,” she chides. “Someone’s been reading something other than Guns and Ammo.”

“You know what?” He brings his palm against her ass in a ringing -yet playful- slap, then aggressively grabs at the cheek.

“Ow! You fucker!” she squeals, and directs a kick to his ass as he heads for the fridge. “That hurt! That’s going to leave a mark! You know my ass is extra big and meaty and sensitive during these times.”

“How sensitive? Too sensitive to let me…?”

Esme frowns, then drops a kiss on the top of Addie’s head and covers her ears with her palms. “Don’t even finish that sentence. What is wrong with you? There’s a little person in the room, daddy.”

“She’s only six months old. She has no clue what I’m saying.”

“But I do. And we don’t need to talk about those things.”

He’s grinning as he pulls a jug of orange juice from the juice. “We’ve been married almost seven years, yeah?”

“Seven in years in just under three months,” Esme confirms, then moves to the sink and grabs a glass from the drainboard. 

“How can we be married for that long and you still be embarrassed to talk about stuff like that?”

“It’s just one of those things that unnerve me. I don’t know why; it just does. Can’t we just do them? Why do we have to talk about them?”

“‘Cause it's hot. It’s a turn on; talking about them.”

“Maybe for you. For me? I get frazzled by it.”

“I do not understand you, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” 

“Well now that you mention it…”

She sets the glass on the counter, then removes the jug from his hand. “Look, your job isn’t to understand me, okay? It’s to love me. Even when I don’t make any sense.’

“Which is a hell of a lot lately.”

“I’m not taking criticism from a man that puts vegemite on steak. That should be illegal, you know. You should be arrested for that. Wasting a perfectly good piece of meat. A cow didn’t give up its life for you to smoother its dead flesh in that disgusting shit.”

“Listen, short stuff, just because YOU’RE uncultured…”

“I’m uncultured? Who is the one that puts mayo on hot dogs? Who does that? No one normal, that’s for sure.”

“You knew I wasn’t normal when you met me, come on now. Don’t act like it’s suddenly a surprise to you. You’re the one who hooked up with the crazy Aussie. I tried to stop you, but…”

“You tried to stop me? Bullshit. You seduced me.”

“You’re still believing that, huh? You’re still convinced that you were so innocent in the entire thing.”

“You kissed me. And not just some normal kiss, may I add. It was a ‘’pin you against the wall and make you totally wet’ kind of kiss. Don’t deny it; you knew what you were doing. You wanted to do it the second you met me.”

“I’m not going to deny that.”

“You...seduced...me…”

“You were into it. You kissed me back.”

“Of course I did. I’m a red blooded female. I figured if you could kiss like that, you could do other things pretty good too.”

“Oh and you found that out right quick.”

“I sure did. And here I am, seven years later.”

He grins. “So that IS why you married me. ‘Cause of how I dick you down. I fucking knew it.”

“It’s ONE of the reasons. One of the many. You’re just the entire package. The muscles and the blue eyes and the stupidly handsome face and your sexual skills and prowess. I’m not stupid; who in their right mind would let all that go? And in my humble opinion, you lucked out too.”

“I did,” Tyler agrees. “Luckiest guy alive. But right now, I’m wondering why you won’t let me do shit like THAT…” he nods at the drink she’s currently pouring. “...for myself.”

“I’m taking care of you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“You only have one good hand,” she reminds him.

“One good hand that is perfectly capable of pouring orange juice.”

“You’re a rightie. You can’t use your right, so…”

“I’m not a child, Me. I can do things with my other hand.”

“Look, stop being so goddamn hard headed. I'm trying to take care of you. Like you’ve taken care of me tons of times. And no...stop...don’t even say it. Don’t even dare go into your whole ‘I am the man and that’s what we do’ spiel. I won’t listen.”

“I wasn’t going to say any of that.”

“You were. I know you. I’ve spent almost seven years married to you. We can tell what the other is thinking just by facial expressions. We finish one other’s sentences. We know each other’s bad habits and little quirks and how we like certain foods and drinks prepared. You know what that means?”

“We spend too much time together?”

She frowns and playfully slaps the back of her hand against his stomach. “No, you dick. It means we know each other very well. And that means you should know by now that you can’t tell me not to worry or not to get stressed or not to try and take care of you. It all goes in one ear and out the other. You should know these things by now, husband.”

“You know what I do know?”

She stares at him pointedly.

“That I love you and I can’t live without you.”

A slow smile captures her lips. “That was a very good save.”

“It was all true.”

“You know what I know?”’

“What’s that?”

“That you’re a very lucky man.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You’re just pushing ALL the buttons today.”

“You’re very cute when I start pushing your buttons.” Laying a hand on his cheek, she stands on her tiptoes as he leans down to kiss. “I love you. Which is why I want to take care of you. I LIKE doing it. So will you let me? At least for the first few days?”

“I will.”

“Thank you,” she pecks his lips. “Think you can do something else for me?”

“Does it involve us both being naked?”

“Maybe later. I was going to ask if you’d feed your daughter while I finish making lunch.”

“I could do that.”

“She really loves trying to grab the spoon and she’s damn messy. Think TJ when he was learning. Times a hundred.”

“There’s no way someone that cute and that little can cause that much havoc.”

“Oh you just wait.” She lifts Addie from the baby carrier and then slides her into the high chair and buckles the seat belt. “Koen called,” she says, as he pulls a chair up in front of Addie and she tends to scooping spoonfuls of various baby food into a sectioned plate. “While you were asleep.”

He tries to keep his shoulders and jaw from tensing up. Or looks of apprehension or worry form on his face. “What did he want?”

“He didn’t really say. I guess he tried calling and texting your cell and when he got no answer, he called me. I told him you were asleep; he said he’d call back later.”

“That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“Just that he went where you told him to go but things didn’t go the way either of you’d hoped. He didn’t sound too worried or anything like that.” She sets the plate of food and a plastic spoon on the high chair tray, then journeys back to the island. “Where did you send him? I thought he was done for a while? I thought Dhaka was his last gig for a bit?”

“Something came up. Nothing serious. Just a little thing to check into it.”

“Something little I should worry about or…?”

“Naw. It’s nothing you need to get involved in. Just something to look into it. He had the time and he’d said he’d do it.”

“Something to do with Dhaka or Mumbai or…?”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s no big deal. Just a little something, like I said.”

“Very mysterious.” She scoops a handful of cut veggies into both palms and drops them into a salad bowl. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, right? You wouldn’t be saying it’s not something when it IS something?”

“Baby, I would not lie to you. We don’t do that anymore. No matter how shitty or messy something might be. It’s no big deal.” He shoots her a reassuring smile over his shoulder. “Trust me. Please.”

“I do. But I also worry and…”

“Me….” he sighs in exasperation. “....stop. Please.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. Riley called too. To see if you got home okay and how you’re feeling. She said she’s sorry she bailed on your homecoming.”

“I don’t blame her. I’d bail for good pussy too.”

Esme scowls. “Tyler James. For real?”

“I’d bail on a meeting with the Pope for yours.”

“What about a surfing session with Kelly Slater?”

“Even THAT.”

“Hmmm. I DO have powers.”

“You have no idea. I was a goner that very first time. From the moment you seduced me seven years ago.”

“As if!” She plucks a piece of cucumber from the bowl and tosses it at him. “I guess it won’t come as a surprise when I tell you that the whole ‘separate rooms’ thing got scrapped as soon as they got there? That they weren’t in the door of their new shared room for more than five minutes before things got a little...crazy.”

“Fast fucks run in the family, huh?” He gives her a playful wink. “She’s taking after her big sis. Color me surprised.”

“I will kill you in your sleep. I can take you now, you know.”

“I’d like to see you try. And no. This is Riley we’re talking about. Nothing would surprise me when it comes to her. She’s a bit of a wild child.”

“That’s the understatement of the century. You know she gave it all up, right?” Esme pulls a chair over and parks it beside him; a grimace on her face and a hand on the small of her back as she sits down. “She’s not going back to Colorado. She tell you that?”

“Not in so many words. Last time she came to see me she brought it up. Hadn’t really made up her mind yet, though.”

“Well she has now. She’s getting her credits and what not transferred here and a friend of hers is going to pack up some clothes and shit and ship it down.”

“Where’s she going to stay? We don’t exactly have a lot of room. Especially with two more rug rats on the way.”

“Well, seeing as no hanky panky would ever occur between her and Ovi, they’re both okay with her staying in the pool house. And he could be leaving soon as it is. So….”

“Yeah, he told me about that. Wanting to go to New York.”

“How do you feel about it?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it.”

She gives a dramatic pout. “Our baby is leaving the nest.”

“First off, he’s technically not our baby. Second, he’s twenty two years old. It’s time he did. Time he had a life of his own. And if what Millie says is true, he’s pretty crazy about this girl.”

“He asked her to marry her.”

Both eyebrows arch. “Oh really….”

“She said yes. So I guess she’s just as serious about him. Is it true you talked to her? About him? She told me you talked to her. In Mumbai. That doesn’t sound like you. MY husband avoids giving relationship advice. At all costs.”

“I didn’t talk to her about him. She ASKED about him. That’s it. I told her to talk to you.”

“Oh, so that’s why she sprung all of that on me. It was YOUR idea.”:

He grins sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Do you think he’s ready for all of that? Leaving home? Moving thousands of miles away? Getting married? This is Ovi we’re talking about. You know just as well as I do how he’s struggled. All the issues he’s had since Dhaka. Do you really think he’s in a good place mentally? To be able to be away from us?”

“He’s twenty-two years old, Me. If not now, when?”

“I don’t know. A couple years? Three? Maybe four?”

“Why are you having such a hard time with this? Weren’t you the one preaching to me a few months ago about him being all grown up? Weren’t you the one reminding me that he isn’t a kid anymore?”

“Yes. But….”

“There’s no but. It’s what you said. You went off on me HOW many times? About him being a grown up now?”

“I just worry about him.”

“Oh Christ. There’s that word again. The W word.”

“I know he’s an adult and I know everyone has to fly the coop eventually. But is he really ready for that? Is he mature enough? Can he handle it? We’ll be thousands of miles away! If he runs into any trouble, we can’t just go running. Not when he’s there and we’re here and we’ve got seven kids to take care of.”

“What kind of trouble is he going to get into? That life is behind him. It’s behind all of us. What possibly could go wrong?”

“What if he gets homesick?”

“He’ll have his girl to cheer him up. How do you cheer me up when I’m having a bad time?”

“I do NOT need that image of Ovi and his girlfriend in my mind, thank you very much. You’re really okay with this? Him leaving? Going so far away?”

“As okay as I’m going to be. He’s not little Ovi anymore, Me. He’s not that kid back in the warehouse in Dhaka that you tried to calm down and distract by talking about movies and girls. He’s not the fifteen year old that pissed his pants out of fear when I first met him. And he’s not the same kid he was when he killed Gaspar. He’s far removed from that.”

“But that all still happened, Tyler. And he’s been struggling just like we have. If he struggles while he’s THAT far away....”

“He knows how to call us. He knows how to text and Skype and all that crap. Do I want him to go? No. Am I going to talk him out of it? Also no.”

“He’d listen to you. If you did.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t. He deserves to have a life. He deserves to go and see the world and fall in love and find out who he’s really meant to be. I don’t have it in me to stop him. I don’t want him to convince him to stay and then have him hate me for it years down the road. I love that kid too much to do that to him.”

“So you’re willing to let him go. Because you DO love him.”

“I want him to have a good life. Whatever and wherever that is. And if it's in New York with this girl….” Tyler shrugs. “...then so be it. I’m not going to stop him. And neither are you. Tell me you won’t do that; try and stop him.”

“I won’t. No matter how badly I want to. It’s going to hurt like hell. Seeing him go. Especially after everything we’ve been through together.”

“Maybe it’s what we all need. New lives. Him and this girl and you and I with our seven kids.”

Sighing, she leans back in her chair and places a hand on either side of her baby bump. “Seven kids. Yikes.”

“Way too late for cold feet now, Me. We’re going to have seven kids whether you’re ready or not. We’re going to be a family of nine.”

She groans, hands moving slowly over her belly. “Why do I let you do this to me?”’

“Because I do damn good work.”

“Yeah,” she grins, and leans sideways to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You do.”


	116. Chapter 116

“He’s gone.”

Those simple two words cause the rage to simmer. It brings it all back; Nathan being a pathological liar and all around psychotic dick bag and the immense hatred he’s always harbored for Mark. The man’s supposed ‘death’ had done nothing to diminish the feeling; many times he’d regretted not taking matters into his own hands and has fantasized about finding a way to bring him back from hell in order to just kill him all over again. Long before Mark had ever had the balls to show up in Telluride, Tyler had despised him. Esme briefly touching on the physical and emotionally abuse the second night in Dhaka; their after sex conversation switching gears from light pillow talk to mutual confessions and shared stories involving their failed marriages. She’d been straight to the point and neither her face or voice had shown even the slightest bit of emotion. No lingering pain or anger evident, but admitting to feelings of regret and guilt for not leaving when the first red flags were thrown onto the field; disappointed in herself for foolishly believing she could change him and letting things get as bad as they did. 

He had thought that both his hatred and his desire to kill Mark with his bare hands couldn’t possibly grow any stronger; he’d barely known her and he’d been more than willing to ‘take one of the team’ and rid the world of her ex’s miserable existence. But then the ENTIRE truth had come out. It had been three months into living together and only six weeks until they got married; still getting to know one another and a baby girl….HIS baby girl...growing inside of her. She’d admitted she’d been afraid to tell him the whole truth; worried he’d somehow be disgusted and think less of her because of it. In a strange way it had only made him love her even more; knowing how she’d been through that much at the hands of someone who was supposed to love her and didn’t come out of it completely jaded and both body and spirit broken. But along with deepening feelings of love and respect, the rage had grown as well. Grouping Mark with the likes of his father; a bully who loved to torment and torture and didn’t care what weapon -whether it be words or fists or whatever objects they could get their hands on- they employed. 

The second Mark had shown up at the house in Telluride, he should have handled things on his own. The man’s first time getting that close to his family should have also been his last; he shouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to even see the kids, let alone speak to them. There were ways he could have dealt with it; you don’t spend years as a mercenary by leaving evidence behind. You learn how to effectively clean up your own mess or your ‘people’ handle it for you. No one ever figures out who EXACTLY pulled the trigger or spilt the blood; you become nothing more than a ‘theory’ and their death ends up in a cold case box in the basement of a police station. It wouldn't have been the first time he’d ‘taken care of someone’ outside of the job and it would have been relatively easy; wipe Mark off the planet and leave no trail or ties to himself or Esme behind. But he’d gotten so caught up in the Michael McMann bullshit that even his hatred for Mark and the wish to see him disappear had been put on the back burner. And in the end, he trusted Nathan; taking his word for it that Mark had stumbled upon the scene of the extraction and became a threat , leaving the younger man with no choice but to put him in the ground. There hadn’t been a reason NOT to trust the former Marine. No sign that he was unhinged or that he himself would turn out to be the biggest threat of them all.

“Tyler?” Koen’s voice on the other end of the phone; line crackling from the bad reception in the Ukraine. “You there? Did I lose ya?”

“I’m here.” He leans over the side of the lawn chair he relaxes in -legs stretched out, both feet planted in the soft, cool sand- and reaches for the bottle of water that sits on the ground. 

For the first time in two months he wishes it were something stronger; that old demon of alcoholism always lingering just under the surface. It will be a lifelong battle; not letting both the physical and mental issues break him down to the point that he falls back on bad habits and destructive vices. He’ll lose everything if he does; his home, his marriage, his children. And he’d never survive that. 

Taking a swig of water, he turns his gaze back to the kids. The three oldest giggle and shriek as they chase each other along the shoreline, occasionally tackling each other into the water. With a dog on either side of him, Declan busies himself digging in the wet sand; filling a small plastic to the brim and then laughing hysterically when he dumps it over his head or legs. Directly in front of him, Addie sits on a beach towel with her back towards him; one hand holding a teething ring firmly in her mouth, the other sliding through the sand and letting it trickle between her fingers. It’s hard to believe she’s grown that much; still tiny in physical size but further ahead developmentally than any of her siblings had been at that age.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” 

“Gone as in GONE,” Koen says. “Hadn’t seen him in a couple days. Wasn’t following his usual routine. Thought I’d check things out. His place was empty. Gutted. Like no one had ever been there. Like he just upped and disappeared.”

“You didn’t see him taking shit out of his place?”

“I wasn’t parked there all day and all night. Yaz said he had entrances covered. That there’s no sign of Mark taking off.”

“No one vanishes out of thin air. Where the fuck could he have gone? How could no one have seen him? Not you, not Yaz’ tech people. No one had eyes on him?”

“You’d have to take that shit up with Yaz. I had nothing to do with any of that. You asked me to go back there and take care of shit and that’s what I was trying to do. Guess he got the slip on his somehow.”

Sighing heavily, he briefly closes his eyes. “Fuck…” 

“And apparently his cell phone’s been turned off or deactivated. Hasn’t been used in forty eight hours. No movement on his credit cards or in his bank account.”

“Cash on hand makes it easier to move around. No paper trail. And he probably tossed his cell and got a burner one. Fuck me.” 

“I don’t know what else to tell you. There’s no sign of the guy. Not even the landlord knew he took off. You been getting any calls or emails or texts or….”

“Nothing. The last one came the day of Esme’s ultrasound and I haven’t gotten anything since.”

“Maybe he’s just moved on. Maybe he’s realized that it’s a lost cause; trying to wind you up and cause issues. He had his fun, wasn’t getting the attention he wanted, decided not to waste any more time with it. If he really wanted to stir up shit, he would have by now. I think he just wanted to try and get to you.”

“I still can’t fucking believe this is even happening. That we’re even talking about him. He’s supposed to be dead. Why isn’t he dead?”

“Because fuck wit Nathan lied. Said he killed him and didn’t.”

“That’s what I don’t get. WHY would he lie? Why would he make that up? What’s the point? Why would he tell me he killed the guy if he didn’t? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe they were scheming together,” Koen suggests. “Maybe Mark had something to do with Nathan going off the deep end. Maybe had a hand in trying to fuck you up.”

“He wouldn’t have kept quiet about that. He would have rubbed that in my face; if he was involved.”

“Well the only person besides Mark who has the answers, is Nathan. And we can’t exactly ask him now, can we. What do you want me to do? Want me to hang around for a bit? See if he comes out of hiding?”

“If the place is cleaned out and his cell’s been dumped and there’s no activity on his cards or at his bank, he’s gone. He’s off the grid. We’re not going to find him. He must have figured out I sent someone to watch him. He’s a massive prick, but he’s not stupid. He would have known I’d get someone on him.”

“I mean, I could stick around for a couple days if you’d think it would do any good. I don’t mind putting in the extra work. Just say the word. What do you want me to do, boss? Hang out or come back?”

“Come back. You’re done there. He isn’t showing back up. IF he starts getting a hold of me again, we’ll worry about then. For now, just come back. Call Yaz; tell him I said to pick you up. I’ll make sure your money’s in before you get back.”

“I don’t need your money. Not for this. I’m watching out for you. For your family. This isn’t a job.”

“I’ll do what I want with my goddamn money, you hear me? I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Gonna be waiting for me at the airport, handsome? Gonna let me run across the tarmac and jump into your arms? Kiss that pretty face of yours? Slip ya some tongue?”

“In your wildest and wettest. See you in a couple days.”

“You can plan on it,” Koen says, then disconnects the call.

*****

Sliding his phone into the pocket of his shorts, he moves his left foot closer to Addie; using his toes to tickle her across the small of her back and under ribs; smiling at the sound of her giggles and the way that tiny body stiffens and then attempts to wriggle away. And his breath catches when she glances over her shoulder at him, finding himself in awe of how much she looks like her mother in that exact moment. He’s lost count of how many times he’s seen that exact expression on Esme’s face; both eyebrows arched and her lips tightly pursed together, chin dropped towards her shoulder. 

“What are you doing, Peanut? Sitting there looking all cute like your momma. Why are you growing up so fast?”

Addie responds by wrapping both arms around his ankle and pulling his foot even closer. Mouth closing around his big toe; biting down on it with swollen gums and then proceeding to vigorously suck.

“Excuse you, young lady. That’s gross.” Chuckling, he gingerly pulls his foot away and then wraps his calf around her tiny body, sliding her backwards across the blanket and then leaning down to scoop her up with one arm. “You ARE getting sassy, aren’t ya,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of her head and then turning her around to face him. “You’re getting a mind of your own. You’re getting feisty. More and more like your momma every day.”

“A lover AND a fighter,” Esme declares, as she carefully lowers herself into the empty chair beside him; a paper plate bearing a piece of chocolate cake and a plastic spoon in each hand. 

There’d been an impromptu party to celebrate his release from the hospital, complete with several different take out options and the store bought dessert with ‘Welcome home Tyler/Daddy’ scrawled on it in yellow icing. The kids -after getting over their initial shock of him being home a day earlier than they’d expected- had even insisted on blowing up leftover birthday balloons and scattering them around the kitchen and living room; later presenting him with cards and presents that they’d worked so diligently and lovingly on. It had brought a lot of the emotions he’d been keeping bottled up to the surface; tears of immense relief and gratitude and vows to never, EVER, take any of them for granted again. It’s overwhelming; coming face to face with the realization of just how much someone actually loves you and needs you in their life. Five beautiful little beings he’d had a hand in creating and a wife who has remained steadfast and loyal, even during the hardest of times.

“Tiny but totally capable of kicking some ass,” Tyler says, as Addie manages to get herself into a stand on his good thigh and he places a forearm behind her for support. “EXACTLY like your momma. Your mom is the one people should be scared of. Not me.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for. I come bearing gifts. You were the one who’s been complaining about losing too much weight. Figured chocolate cake could help with that. ”

He leans sideways in his chair and places a kiss on her temple. “You’re a good little wife. I chose a good one.”

“I think we BOTH did. I’m definitely not complaining.” She waits until he places Addie back on the blanket and arranges her toys within grabbing distance, then hands him one of the plates. “Everything okay? You looked like you were in the middle of a pretty intense conversation. I hung back; didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Don’t know why it looked like that. Wasn’t anything serious.”

“Was it Koen?”

He nods.

“Everything okay? Where’d you say he was again?”

“I didn’t. And everything’s fine. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Something for YOU to worry about?”

“I didn’t say that. Didn’t I tell you earlier that it was no big deal? That it was nothing to get worked up about?”

“You’re being very mysterious, husband. I’ve been down this road before; you hiding things because you don’t want to upset me.”

“Well this time I’m not hiding anything. There’s nothing wrong. Everything’s fine. I asked Koen to take care of something for me and he went to do it and someone had beaten him to it. That’s it. Nothing more to talk about. And besides,” he pushes the fork into the cake and pops a piece into his mouth. “....you said you wanted to step back from the business. Until the twins were born.”

“So it WAS a job?”

“A very minor one. It got taken care of. Before we could get to it.”

“Another company?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Whoever or whatever it was, it got cleaned up. Not our problem anymore. By the way, I think your Mini Me might be a cannibal. She tried to take my foot off.”

“It’s her teeth. They’re bugging the hell out of her. Tonight should be interesting; maybe I should bring her downstairs with us.”

“Or you could sleep upstairs with her. In the bed you’re used to.”

“What? You don’t want me sleeping with you? I thought that was one of the things you were looking forward to; sleeping in the same bed. Every night. Not just when I decide to show up out of the blue at the hospital.”

“Of course I WANT to sleep with you. I want to do A LOT of things with you. But I’m just thinking about you and the babies; I want you to be comfortable. That’s all.”

“I won’t be comfortable sleeping alone. And you can’t get up the stairs. So looks like you’re stuck with me in the guest room, husband.”

“I can think of way worse fates, wife.”

“Declan is going to need to be hosed down,” Esme laments, fork poised at her lips as she watches her son dump a bucket of wet sand over his head. “And not just a regular hose down. A power wash. Is it still in the garage? The power washer? Because that is the only way that child is coming clean.”

“He’s not playing with a full deck that kid. You know he gets THAT from?”

“I swear to God, if you say the cable man…”

“Your side. That’s all your family. All the bad genes. All the crazy shit coming out.”

“That is all YOU. You seem to forget that you’ve told me some stories; wild and crazy shit you’ve done through the years. He is your son; top to bottom, inside and out. You can’t convince me otherwise. It’s going to be everywhere; up his nose, in his ears.”

“And guess who CAN’T help out.”

“I really miss you not being able to handle the gross shit. That wet sand looks way too much like poop for my liking. Maybe I’ll get TJ to take him in the water and give him a scrub down. Get the worst of it off. Because that…” she grimaces and shudders. “....I can’t handle the look of it.”

“At least it doesn’t smell like shit.”

“Tyler…” she frowns. “....that is NOT helping. I can puke at the drop of a hat, remember?”

He grins. “You’re going to blame me for that, aren’t you.”

“We’re both to blame. You didn’t follow the doctor’s rules and I didn’t say no. And now here we are. Number six and seven, daddy. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Actually, I AM. I get shit done. Not half assed either. Two babies. Twice. Who loves you, Me? Who loves you more than anything in this world? Who’s been getting the job done nearly every night for seven years?”

“It’s such a hard life you live,” she teases, then takes both their empty plates and sets them on the sand. “I don’t know how you manage.”

“It’s difficult, but I get by.” Reaching over, he takes her hand and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist, then laces his fingers through hers and lets their arms dangle down into the space between their chairs. Neither speak for several minutes; enjoying the last rays of sunshine that sparkle on the surface of the water and the sights and sounds of their children playing.

“You okay?” Esme asks, and tightens her hold on his hand. “You’ve been really quiet. Since dinner.”

“I’m fine. Just happy to be home and taking the time to soak it all in. Everything’s good,” he gives her a reassuring smile and tightly squeezes her hand. “Just been a long day; starting to catch up to me.”

“You’ll sleep good tonight. Under the same roof as the rest of us, no one waking you up when they come in to check every three hours, none of that weird noise keeping you up. It’ll be good for you; being back in familiar surroundings.”

“Gonna take some getting used to. Feels like I’ve been gone forever.”

“More than two months. Since you left. You’ve never been gone for more than a couple of weeks at a time.”

“Ireland. That was pretty long. Or at least it felt like it.”

“This time was different. It felt like years. Since it all started.”

He nods in agreement. “I’ve missed a lot. Especially when it comes to her,” he stretches his leg out and runs his toes up Addie’s back; that tiny body stiffening and then squirming as she lets loose a giggle. “I’ve missed way too much.”

“It’s not like you could help it. You didn’t want to be away from them for that long. It just happened. You couldn’t have seen it coming. Or stopped it.”

“When I left, she was just this tiny baby I could still hold in one hand. She still sounded like a kitten sometimes when she cried. There wasn’t much she could do; just lie there on my chest and look cute. Even in Mumbai she was just learning to smile. Now look at her. She’s sitting up and she’s holding her own bottle and she’s eating baby food and trying to crawl. When the fuck did that all happen? It’s like I blinked and I missed it.”

“You didn’t have a choice BUT to miss it. Don’t blame yourself, Tyler. You’re a master at that; placing blame when there’s no reason to. None of this was your fault. And you couldn’t have known how bad things would go. No one could have.”

“It just went so bad. It went so fucking bad. I can’t believe how bad it actually went. I’ve had jobs fuck up before. But not like that. Not even close to that.”

“It’s that place. I don’t even want to say it’s name because it’s like some kind of curse for us. Twice things went bad there. And I didn’t think anything could be worse than the first time. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong.”

“It’s not just that. It’s not just Dha...that place. It’s so many things. So many stupid goddamn decisions I made. It’s been seven years of fucking things up. Whether I meant to or not. And it’s not just now; missing things with Addie. It’s all the things I’ve missed. It’s the birthdays and it’s the anniversaries and it’s that one Christmas I couldn’t get back from Jakarta because of bad weather on the other end. It’s all of that. I wasn’t even there; when Declan started to walk. I left for Ireland and he was still crawling and I came home and he was walking. It’s ALL that stuff. Things I wasn’t around for because of stupid fucking decisions. Because I didn’t have the balls to just walk away.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over those things forever. You just can’t. You thought you were doing the right thing. For our family. You thought the job was what you needed to do and…”

“I was running. Because I was scared. I was worried I’d be a failure to you and them. The job was the only thing I KNEW I was good at. I didn’t want to be a fuck up. I didn’t want to be a shitty husband and father. And that’s what I kept making the decisions I did. Let’s not pretend it was anything other than that, okay? That’s not getting us past it. If we act like it was anything different.”

Sighing, she leans back in her chair and stretches her legs out in front of her; free hand coming to rest on her baby bump. 

“I can’t get any of that back. The stuff I missed. And it makes me feel like shit. That because I was scared and worried about fucking up, I actually DID make a huge fucking mess. I actually DID hurt you. That’s what I was trying to avoid; hurting you because I WAS a failure as a husband. And in the end, I just ended up hurting you anyway.”

“You know, this is a huge step. You being able to talk about it like this. Instead of just holding it all in and making me guess what’s going on. This is big, Tyler. For you. For US. You realize that, right?”

He nods. 

“I don’t hold hate towards you. For the decisions you made. For those six months. For going back to the booze and the meds. I was hurt and I was scared and I was angry, but I never hated you. I could NEVER hate you. I love you way too much for that to ever happen. And we both fucked up. I wasn’t exactly the perfect wife. I had my own issues. Because of MY past. So let’s pretend I didn’t make a mess of things too at times. Did you ever hate me? For the way I acted sometimes? How irrational I’d get? When I’d freak about something that reminded me of Mark? When I’d compare you to him? Did you hate me?”

“No. I’ve never hated you. I knew why you were doing it. I knew how bad he fucked you up. Why would I hate you because of what he did?”

“Why would I hate you for what your past did to you?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It IS the same thing. And in your case, it’s even worse than what I went through. Everything you had to see and hear when you were growing up; your dad beating on your mom and treating her like shit every second of every day. Losing the only parent who DID love you. That’s when it all started. You realize that, right?”

“I’m starting to.”

“You were a little boy. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. You didn’t deserve how it changed you. How it changed your WHOLE life. If none of that ever happened, IF you’d had a loving family and a great childhood, you probably never would have made the decisions you did. You probably never would went into the military or became an alcoholic or got mixed up with the pain meds. None of that would have happened. It all stems back to when you were a kid.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Doctor Klein.”

“I’ve been reading up on things. I want to learn everything I can; about your diagnosis. So I can help you. So I can help US. And from what I’ve read about C-PTSD, everything leads back to your childhood. To your dad.”

“So let’s say that things were great when I was growing up. That my dad wasn’t an alcoholic and he didn’t beat the shit out of me all the time and treat her like crap. Say everything was perfect. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have gone into the military. There’s no proof of that.”

“Why did you join? What made you decide that?”

“I didn’t have a lot of options. I wasn’t exactly the brightest when it came to school. It wasn’t my thing. Not everyone is like you, Me. Not everyone has the brain pan you do. You’re into books and learning and all of that. I’m not. I need to be moving. I need to be active. That’s why I went the way I did. Joining the military. I was never going to be like you; go to college and get a degree. That wasn’t meant to be my life.”

“Okay, so you would still have joined the military. Would you have still have gotten into the booze and the pain meds? Would that still have been your way of coping? If you hadn’t seen your dad rely on those things?”

“I don’t know. There’s no way of knowing that. But you know what I DO know? I know if I hadn’t have gotten into the job, I wouldn’t have met you. And if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have all of this. I wouldn’t have this place. There’d be no us. I wouldn’t have my kids. You know what I’d be? If we hadn’t met? I’d be dead. And that’s the truth. Had I never met you, I would have drank myself to death or OD’d a long time ago. Let’s not pretend that’s not how things would have went.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I DO know that. Everything changed when I met you. Christ, even half an hour before I thought about killing myself. But something told me not to do it. That I’d regret it if I did. And then I went home and look what was waiting for me. If that isn’t the sign something is meant to be, I don’t know what is.”

“So for arguments sake, say we did meet another way. Say you didn’t go into the job and we somehow still managed to meet and…”

“Why even bring it up? It never would have happened and we both know that. Yeah, I fucked up. I didn’t walk away from the job when I should have. A lot of times, I didn’t put you and the kids first. But if I’d never gone into it, there’d be no us. There’d be no kids. There’d be none of this. And I’d take a fucking bullet to the neck a million times over if it meant I’d still have all of this. So let’s not sit and here and talk like we’d have any of this WITHOUT the job.”

She nods slowly as she considers his words. “You know, I’m going to regret saying this and I give you permission to hold it over my head for the rest of my life, but you’re right. We wouldn’t.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Excuse me? Did you just say something? Did you just admit that I’m right?”

“Maybe…”

“I didn’t hear you properly the first time. I think you need to speak louder.. So everyone can hear you. What did you say? You said I was…”

“Right. I said you were right. You absolute dick head.”

Releasing his hold on her hand, he leans sideways in his chair; palm coming to rest on the back of her head as he pulls her into a kiss. “I love you." His fingers dig into her scalp at the force of his words. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I love you too,” she says, and pecks his lips. “And I forgive you.”

*****

It’s shortly before midnight when she finally joins him in the guest room. Clad in a bathrobe miles too big for her tiny frame and cinched tightly at the waist; a glass of water in one hand and a small plastic container of pills in the other. She looks beautiful; dark hair framing her face and falling over her shoulders and down her back, the slight sunburn on her cheeks and the slope of her nose adding to the glow she always possesses during pregnancy. He’d always thought it was a myth; that women ‘change’ when they’re carrying a baby. But it’s always been true for her; her skin impossibly smooth and dewy, her cheeks filling out, the sparkle in her eyes becoming brighter. 

“Everyone asleep?” He asks, and drops his cell phone on the bedside table. 

“Finally. To say they’re excited to have daddy home is an understatement.” She hands him the container of pills, followed by the glass of water after he pops the handful of tablets into his mouth. “They didn’t understand why they couldn’t sleep down here with us. I told them that daddy was already asleep. That he needed at least one night to get used to being back here.”

“Did you just lie to our children?”

“Consider it a means of preserving our sanity.” She sets the empty glass and container on the nightstand and then places her hands on his shoulders and leans down to kiss him. “And our sex life.”

“We actually have one of those?”

“I have something for you. A little ‘welcome home’ present of my own.”

A slow, sly grin creeps across his face. “Oh really…”

Nodding, she steps back from the bed and reaches for the sash on her bathrobe; slowly and painstakingly untying it.

“Don’t be a tease, Me. Don’t do that to me. Not after six weeks. I don’t think my heart or my dick can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” she chides, and then lets the robe fall open and off her shoulders. Revealing something so simple yet somehow astonishingly sexy; a white cotton eyelet night shirt that skims the top of her and fits loose over the bump. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m in love.”

Laughing, she tosses the bathrobe on the end of the bed. “I know it’s not sexy by the standard defintion, but I thought it had its own appeal.”

“Baby, you could wear a garbage bag and it would be sexy. That? That’s just...wow.”

“You like it?”

“Oh, I like it. And so does someone else.”

“You are so very easy to please.” She once more approaches the bed, pushing her fingers through his hair; tightly gripping the longer strands as she kisses him. It’s fierce and it’s desperate; tongue hungrily and impatiently pushing it’s way past his teeth and seeking out his own. Shivering when his fingertips slide over the outside of her thigh; hand slipping up the bottom of the night shirt, palm cradling one of the cheeks of her ass. Breathless when she pulls away, eyes locked on his as the tip of her tongue passes over top lip and then bottom. “Did you figure it out?”

“I think so. You can ride me.”

“I do NOT want to catch my ass on that thing on your leg.”

“Don’t you worry about your ass.” Her fingers dig into the soft flesh; seeing the way that slight bit of pain causes her cheeks to flush and her breath to hitch. “I won’t let anything happen to it. You trust me?”

Nodding, she leans down to peck his lips. “Always.”

It’s quick and unceremonious. Nothing but a simple, uncomplicated fuck; two people frantic and desperate for one another. Greedy hands and mouths briefly exploring before he found himself buried deep inside of her. The sensation intense and the need for her profound; fingers biting painfully into the soft flesh of her ass, hand acting as both protection from the metal apparatus around his thigh and in assisting her movements. The release had been like nothing he’d ever experienced. Entire body locking up and his head spinning as his own hand held her tightly in place; buried as deep as he could possibly be and her name and a litany of profanities escaping his mouth as he emptied himself inside of her. 

She lays on her side with an arm draped loosely across his torso and the side of her head against his chest. His hand working at straightening the now disheveled night shirt; palm gentle as it attempts to smooth out the wrinkles. And when she gives a long, content sigh and presses a kiss to the old, jagged scar that mars his left shoulder, his hand moves to the top of her head; fingers pushing into her hair and combing through the long, thick tresses; face turning into hers and his lips finding her brow as his palm settles at the nape of her neck.

“Sorry.”

Her fingertips trace the tattoo -in memory of his son- that graces his right rib cage. “For what?”

“That didn’t last very long. That’s not me. That hasn’t been in since I was about sixteen.”

She lifts her head, a grin playing on her lips. “Baby, it’s been six weeks. You almost died. You went through hell to get back to me. I wasn’t expecting a marathon.”

“Still, I’m a little disappointed. In myself. Give me ten minutes. I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Like I said, it’s been a while. I didn’t expect you to be a hundred percent yet. Besides…” she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “...you got the job done, didn’t you?”

“Did I?”

“Excuse you? Did you not have to put your hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t wake the entire house?”

“You bit my palm.”

“Consider it a sign of a job well done. It was that or wake the kids. Take the pain.”

“I like the pain you hand out. That’s good pain. Fun pain. And I never thought I’d admit something like this, but I actually missed the biting. I mean, I enjoy it more in other places. Not too sure about the hand.”

“You’re a dirty boy. I knew it as soon as I met you, too. I knew you were going to be kinky as all fuck. That you’d be into stuff like that. You still have some marks, too…” she traces a fingertip over the left trap muscle. “...where I’ve gotten you a little TOO hard.”

“Badges of honour, baby. I think you’ve given me more scars than the job and the military COMBINED.”

“Maybe on your back. That's my favourite canvas to decorate. So much space to work. And don’t stress over it, okay? That things didn’t last very long. I wasn’t expecting them to. You’ve been through a lot. And it’s been a while. Longer than we’ve ever gone. Longer than even after Dhaka number one.”

“And THAT felt like a lifetime.”

She nods in agreement, then presses a series of kisses along his collarbone before once more settling her head against his chest. Heaving yet another long, content sigh as her knuckles repeatedly travel up and down his ribs. On the last pass her hand slides even lower and then onto his stomach; fingers tracing the barely noticeable ab muscles.

“Told you I’m getting skinny.”

“You’re not skinny. You’re beautiful. And perfect. I love you ANY size. Muscles or no muscles.”

“Okay, easy now, Me. Let’s not go THAT far.”

“The surgeon said you can start back doing upper body stuff once physio for your shoulder starts.”

“Not like I’m used to though.”

“So you can’t go as heavy and hardcore right away. You’ll build up to it. I know you, Tyler. I know how it’s a big part of who you are and what you love to do; work out and stay in shape. I’ve relegated myself to the fact that I’m going to be a gym widow. At least I’ll have some time before that happens. Before you go totally balls to the wall. You going let me make you your smoothies still?”

“As long as you promise not to put lawn cuttings in it. You tried that a couple times. That’s a big no.”

“It’s called kale. And it’s very good for you.”

“It’s called ‘tastes like shit’ and ‘no thank you’.”

“This coming from a man that loves vegemite. Excuse me if I refuse to take your word on food that is and isn’t shit. I’ll make the ones you liked the best; the banana and strawberry with all those supplements and vitamins and crap you always tell me to throw in.”

“Those ones are actually really good. I’m impressed with you, Me. You may be capable of burning cereal, but you make a damn good smoothie.”

She places her chin on his chest, frowning up at him. “Do you honestly have the gall to insult my kitchen skills? Right AFTER we made love? You’ve got some balls on you, buddy.”

“FIrst off, that was NOT making love. That was fucking. Let’s get that out of the way. Second? I feel very blessed that your bedroom skills are WAY better than your kitchen skills.”

Smirking, she pinches the last remaining bit of fat underneath his ribs. “You’re such an asshole.”

“But I’m your asshole. And you love me.”

“I do. Against my better judgement most days.”

“You’re so mean to me.”

“I’m just a horrible wife. Always making fun of you. Always shit talking you. Just a horrid, awful, terrible excuse for a wife.”

“I’ll still fuck you though.”

“You’re a pig,” she laughs, and presses a kiss to his lips. “You’re mine though. You’re stubborn and you're perverted and you can be a massive dick at times, but I'm still going to keep you. So I hope you’re not planning on going anywhere.”

“I’m definitely not.” His palm slides up to the back of her head, and he pulls her in for a kiss. ”Besides, I can’t get very far anyway. You’d catch me.”

Smirking, she brushes the end of her nose against his and then once more settles her head on his chest. “You’re a prick sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he admits, and combs his fingers through her hair. “But I love you all the time.”

“I love you,” she says in return and nuzzles her cheek against his skin.. Eyes closing as his fingers continue to move through her hair and his chin comes to rest on the top of her head. Her own hand continuing its lazy exploration of his stomach; a fingertip tracing circles around his navel and up and down the thin trail of hair she refers to as his ‘happy trail’. 

He lightly tugs on a handful of her dark tresses, then drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You alright?”

“I’m more than alright. You?”

“I’m good. Very good. Just enjoying the post orgasmic bliss.”

She grins. “That’s MY line.”

“Not tonight it isn’t. Tired?”

“Not really. Just...happy. Relaxed. It feels good; being in your arms.”

“Sorry I’ve only got one good one.”

“One good one is better than none. I’ll take it. Are YOU tired?”

“A little, I guess. More relieved than anything. To be home with you. And my kids. Never thought it would happen, to be honest. I didn’t even think I’d make it to the hospital, let alone home.”

“Well you did make it. Home. And that’s what matters. You did everything you could to get back here; to get back to me and the kids.”

“I made a promise. And that wasn’t a promise I was willing to break.”

She places her forearms on his chest. One a top the other, her chin resting upon them.

“What’s that look for?”

“You know how you said we NEEDED to talk about it? Dhaka? What happened seven years ago and NOW? You said that it was important that we DID talk about it; get things out in the open and move on from them. You remember how you said all that?”

Tyler nods.

“Would you be willing to talk about it right now?”

“It’s not exactly my idea of pillow talk, Me. I didn’t mean to talk about it right after we...you know.”

“I need to ask you something. About what happened. It’s about what took place AFTER Nathan did what he did. And I need you to be totally honest with me. I don’t want you lying to me, Tyler. I don’t want you thinking you have to spare my feelings. I need to ask you and I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that? Let me ask you and you be one hundred percent honest?”

“I can do that.”

“When you called me...on your way to the hospital...did you think you were going to die?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“How long did you think you had? Before it happened?”

“Esme…”

“Tyler, I need to know. I need you to be honest with me. Please. Just tell me.”

He lays his palm against her hair, smoothing it down as it lays against her back. “Twenty minutes.”

Her breath catches, and she swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat. “That’s it?”

“If that.”

The sigh she expels is long and shaky, and she drops her forehead against his chest as she struggles against a flood of threatening tears.

“Baby...I didn’t…”

“I didn’t think it came THAT close. That is way closer than I thought. Hearing you say that…admit that….I just…it hurts. To know I came THAT close to losing you.”

“I shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t….”

“No,” she objects, and raises her head. “I NEEDED you to tell me. Because I’ve been lying to myself about it for six weeks. I’ve been telling myself that maybe it wasn’t that bad; maybe I was just overreacting. Because I’m a worry wart and pregnant and hormonal as all hell. I guess I tried convincing myself that it wasn’t as bad as I thought. That you were just scared and in pain and that once you got to the hospital you’d be okay. I didn’t realize I came THAT close to losing you.”

“But you didn’t. Lose me. I’m right here, Me. I’m home. I made it.”

“I know. And I’m so grateful for that. More than you could ever know. And as much as it haunts me to this day...the sound of your voice...I’m also grateful that you DID call me. I would have been so pissed at you; if something DID happen and you didn’t call.”

“I wanted to hear your voice. I thought it would be the last time I would. I thought I was dying. And I wanted your voice to be the last thing I heard. I mean, I wanted nothing more than to actually SEE you. But that was the best I could do. Call you.”

“I’m glad you did. That I could give you some comfort. Especially then. And I would have given anything to be there with you.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. You didn’t need to see that. How bad it really was. I wouldn’t wish that on you. You never would have been able to handle that, believe me. That is not something you would have gotten over.”

“I’m just glad you called. That I got to hear your voice. No matter how hard it was to hear it...to hear you...like that.”

“I wanted you to know. I needed to tell you. I needed you to hear that I loved you. That I always have. That I always will. I didn't want you going weeks or months or even years wondering if I did. I needed you to know.”

“Thank you,” she says, and presses a kiss to his lips. “For giving me that. For knowing I needed it. For realizing it would be a little easier on me if I heard those things.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” He brushes his knuckles along her cheek, then rests his hand against it. "You know that.”

She nods, then turns her face into his palm and presses a kiss to it. “I love you, Tyler Rake, More than you could ever know.”

“I love you, Esme. More than I ever thought I could love someone.”

“Thank you. For everything. For this life. For my children. For you. For US. For fighting to get back to me. No matter how scary and painful it was. For always protecting me. No matter what.”

“I always will, Me. You never have to worry about that. I’ll always protect you. Whether you think you need it or not.”

“Well, if I’m being totally honest, I DO enjoy it. You taking care of me like you do. LOVING me like you do.”

“You make it pretty damn easy.”

Sniffling noisily, she places a kiss on the underside of his chin. “You know what I need right now?”

“What’s that, baby?”

“I need you to hold me. Even if it is with just ONE good arm.”

Smiling, he presses his lips against her forehead and then slides his hand to the small of her back; pulling her even tighter against him. “I’ve got you, Me,” he says into her hair. “I’ve always got you.”


	117. THE END:  1+1= 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we have reached the end. I want to thank everyone who has been reading. From the silent fans to the ones that have left so many amazing comments. It has been a journey with this story and with this family I've somehow managed to create! What started out as a small project, took on a life of its own, and I've loved every second of it. Huge thanks to @tragicayhip who has remained my most steadfast and biggest supporter and one of my truest and most beautiful friends!
> 
> To add a whole new level and element, @tragiclyhip took it upon herself to create Tyler and Esme's 'instagram' accounts. It really helps give insight and paint a real picture of them, their lives, their kids, etc etc etc. 
> 
> Tyler's: https://www.flickr.com/photos/esmeexpat/albums/72157716792288151
> 
> Esme's: https://www.flickr.com/photos/esmeexpat/albums/72157716758351387
> 
> There WILL be one more story to finally complete the saga. I am starting work on it very soon. And I hope you will all continue to follow the Rake family.
> 
> I love you all!
> 
> Chickens

Five months later

*****

She watches him from across the room; standing at the window with his back towards her, body slowly and rhythmically swaying from side to side. A backward baseball cap covers damp hair; a pair of well worn and faded jeans sit low on his hips, and his simple white t-shirt fits snug -yet comfortably- across the shoulders and around the biceps. In the months since his release from the hospital he’s come a long way; right arm and leg fully healed yet still needing bi-weekly physiotherapy to continue building stamina and improving strength and mobility. Some problems still remain; slight -yet permanent- damage inflicted on the right side of the body. Nerve issues primarily; affecting under the right eye as well as the hip and close to the tailbone. The limp in his right leg much more pronounced; the knee and femur still having a long way to go until they're back to one hundred percent functionality. 

But he’s alive and thriving; successfully managing both his physical recovery and his mental health issues. A strict ‘diet’ of various medications and therapies help keep the monsters and demons of his bipolar disorder and his C-PTSD at bay; successfully preventing any major depressive episodes and keeping any panic and anxiety at the bare minimum. Throwing himself into being a hands on husband and father have helped as well; giving him the chance to concentrate on the needs of others instead of spending too much time in his own head. Running a business has kept him on the straight and narrow; easily falling into the role of the boss and finding himself a natural at delegating as opposed to getting his own hands dirty. And he’s devoted himself into getting back into shape; eating well and working out as often as his time and his body will allow. Back to the same weight and build he was seven and a half years ago. Tall and athletic and trim; broad shoulders and chest leading down into a narrow waist. And he feels better as well; no longer carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The bloody and dangerous days of the job behind him; never having to leave for weeks at time or worry about whether or not he’ll ever get to see his family again. And he’s always trying to do better and BE better; consistently working on putting the mistakes of the past behind him and learning how to see himself for who he really is, not what his weary and broken mind WANT him to see.

She’s never been more proud of him. Nor loved him quite as profoundly. Knowing just how hard he fought to get back to her just five months before; making a promise that he’d do whatever it took to survive and holding steadfast to it. Keeping it regardless of the damage down to both his body and mind. That kind of love is overwhelming. The reality that someone will go to such lengths for you; so willing to lay down their own life in exchange for yours. Watching him fight back has been difficult; shedding tears along with him when the pain and the exhaustion would become too much for him to bear. Talking him out of that dark place when he didn’t think he could go on; reminding him of how far he’d come in such a short period of time. Enforcing just how strong and resilient he actually is, and how much he has to live for. Seeing him get back on his feet and feeling healthy and confident again has been both an honour and a privilege; those genuine smiles and laughs and the love that he heaps upon her and his children. This beautiful and tarnished man that came into her life so unexpectedly and changed it...and HER...for the better. Showing her not only what love...real love...SHOULD feel like, but that she was worthy of having that in her life. Who...despite all of his own baggage and issues....had so willingly and selflessly carried some of the weight of hers. Neither of them perfect, yet somehow perfect for each other.

Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she grimaces as she leans sideways in bed to grab the cup of ice water from the bedside table. Her body is tired and sore; water breaking at home and within an hour finding herself sitting in the tub in the birthing suite at the hospital and actively delivering the twins. Labour had started two days prior; lower back pain and dizziness and nausea and cramping that didn’t quite qualify as contractions. An initial trip to the hospital had proved fruitless; sent home with an order to stay in bed with her feet up and a heating pad on the small of her back and told to just ‘keep an eye on things’. Once they'd officially begun, it hadn't taken long; only an hour and half of pushing before their daughter made it into the world, followed a mere three minutes later by their son. The last pregnancy and delivery proving to be the easiest; no problems or scares after the first trimester and both babies growing and thriving. And she had finally gotten what she wanted; a completely natural water birth. 

Despite the pain and the weariness, she feels good. Her body sore, yet her spirit grateful; two healthy and beautiful babies making it safely into the world after being carried through quite possibly the scariest and most worrisome time in her life. It was a relief; hearing their cries and having them put on her chest and feeling those little hands clutching at her and tiny faces already rooting for the breast. So beautiful and perfect; their heads full of thick dark and their noses covered in her freckles and their eyes the same shape and colour of their father’s. The perfect mix of the two of them; everything that is good and wonderful about them coming together to make two incredible little humans. 

She runs her fingers through her hair and gathers it in both hands; securing it in a messy bun with the ever present elastic she sports around her wrist. And she smiles as she both watches and listens to him; the way his body continues to move in the soothing, swaying motion, his voice low and quiet as he tells his newborn twins about when -and how- he’d met their mother. How it had been the luckiest day of his life; meeting someone who would look at him as if he was the most amazing man on the planet and fill a hole in him that he never knew even existed. He hadn’t been looking; long ago messing up his life and believing that no one would ever want to take all of that...or him...on. Too big of a project; a man with immense emotional and personal baggage and addiction issues. No one deserved that; someone THAT messed up. And he wouldn’t even dare to entertain the thought of someone being willing. And then they’d met and everything changed; two broken and lonely people not necessarily looking for comfort, but finding it nonetheless. Showing one another that they still had something good to offer the world and another human being; easily trusting and opening up to one another and allowing themselves to feel and experience things that they hadn’t encountered in a long time. If ever.

“A penny for your thoughts,” she says, and then winces as she pushes herself further up into the bed. For a short and relatively drama free delivery, she’s feeling it now; both thighs and the lower back from hip to the other aching. 

Tyler smiles over his shoulder; one of utter peace and contentment. The smile of a man that has stared down death -twice- and has the scars and the painful memories to tell about it. But he’s found a place of acceptance and happiness that had seemed impossible to reach just mere months ago; battling back against all the odds stacked against and not once looking back with regret or guilt. “They’re worth more than that.”

“Are they alright?”

He nods as he turns away from the window. A twin rests along each forearm; one fast asleep with tiny fists curled up at the sides of their face, the other sucking busily at a soother as they stare up at their father in wide eyed wonder. What a shock it must all be; to spend months in such warm and safe confines only to find yourself thrust out into such a bright, big world. “They’re good,” he says, and slides into the bed beside her. “They’re perfect.”

“They are,” Esme agrees, and then presses a kiss to his scruffy cheek “So are you. You have some beautiful DNA, you know that?”

“I think we both have some kick ass genes.” He gingerly slides the sleeping twin from his arm to hers. “Look at ‘em. Your hair and my eyes? Couldn’t ask for better than that.”

“He looks like you,” Esme observes, as she runs a fingertip down her son’s nose and then over the outer edges of both ears. Takota Koen. The first name one of the many gems that Andy had suggested but had been chosen for it’s meaning: Friend to all. Eight pounds right on the dot; limbs and torso shorter than his twin sister’s and possessing his father’s chin, ears, and lips. 

“I don’t know. I was thinking he looks like you. Like Addie did when she was born.”

“No. He’s definitely you. Look at his profile. That’s YOUR profile. And he’s got the Rake feet and hands; long fingers and toes. He’s cute as hell isn’t he?”

“He is,” Tyler says, and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into his side. “They both are. They’re beautiful. Just like their momma. We did good, huh?”

“We did,” she agrees, and rests her head against him. “We do good work.”

“Yeah, we certainly do. Did you ever think we’d end up here? Having six AND seven? If someone had told you seven and a half years ago that this would happen, would you have believed them?”

“I would have told them they were crazy. And it SOUNDS nuts, don’t you think? Two people with shitty marriages already in the books, deciding to give it another try? And having this many kids? It sounds wild. Of all the people that would end up with a life like this, we’re probably the last two anyone ever expected.”

“Always nice to prove people wrong. I think we shut a lot of people up. We’ve made it a lot farther than a lot folks thought we would.”

“Well the joke’s on them. Most of them are miserable and alone now. That’s definitely NOT us.”

“No,” he chuckles. “It’s definitely not.”

“Was I out for a long time?”

“Not really, Couple hours.”

“Have you been holding them all this time?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Maybe…”

“Spoiling them already, huh? I notice you handed me the boy. Claiming all the girls. I see how it is. Look at the way she’s looking at you,” Esme smiles down at the tightly swaddled bundle contently resting along her husband’s arm. Brooklyn Kaia. Eight pounds, four ounces. Thin and lanky; all long limbs and torso just like her father and her oldest sister and brother. “Look familiar? Both Addie and Millie looked at you like that. They still do.”

“Another daddy’s girl.”

“More tea parties for you to attend and more hair for you to braid. You know, for a bad ass, you make a really good girl dad.”

“You think?”

“I do. Actually, you make a really good dad in general. You make an amazing dad. I chose well. The best damn baby daddy a girl could ever ask or wish for. A SEVEN time baby daddy at that. Your swimmers are going to be so happy to finally retire. I think you’ve worn them out. They deserve a rest.”

“There’s always a chance to make it an even number.”

“Never going to happen. I am all babied out. The baby factory has closed up shop. You’ve sown all the oats you’re going to sow, husband. I think seven is a pretty good number. Your OCD will just have to deal with it.”

“Seven more than thought I’d ever have.” he says, and doesn’t try to hide the raw emotion that both chokes at him and captures his face. Not even bothering to blink back the tears that sparkle in his eyes. 

“Aww, baby…” she reaches up and lays a hand on the side of his head, pulling his face down towards her and pressing her lips to his temple. “...it’s okay….YOU’RE okay…”

“I never thought it would happen. That I’d get to be a dad again. After Austin died, I didn’t think I deserved any of this. I didn’t think I was worthy of having kids again. Now I have SEVEN of them. And I love them so fucking much. More than I could ever tell you. Or them.”

“They love you so much. You’re an amazing dad, Tyler. Please don’t ever doubt that. You have no idea how much they love you. How much we ALL love you.”

“Thank you. For them. For all of them. And for you. For us. For always giving me another chance. Even when I didn’t I think I deserved it.”

“You get some of that thanks too, you know. You’ve held in there and stuck around too. You could have easily walked away. So many times.”

“I never once thought about it. Not even when things got real bad. There was never a moment I didn’t want to be with you. That I didn’t love you. And I am so proud of you. So fucking proud. What you did today? It was incredible. YOU were incredible. When you told me how you wanted to do things, I had my doubts. That you’d be able to do it. And you proved me wrong. You were a fucking rockstar.”

“You didn’t do too bad yourself. You got right in the water and didn’t even throw up once.”

“Oh, I wanted to. A couple times. Not gonna lie.”

“Well you did amazing. Best damn coach I could ever ask for. The best looking too.”

He grins. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe. A little bit. You make my heart go pitter patter. A lot. Especially seeing you hold a wee one. You do the ‘big strong man with a tiny baby’ thing very well.”

“Enjoy it while you can, Me. This is it. The last two. We make a good team. Always have.”

She nods in agreement and lays her forehead against his. “Stronger together than we are apart.”

*****

Riley arrives shortly after noon hour, a carry tray of drinks in one hand and a take out bag of food in the other. It had been the only post-birth request Esme had made; the greasiest and most fattening of fast food choices possible. Months of being unable to stomach all her favourites and guilty pleasures finally coming to an end; body craving the simplicity of a soft drink accompanied by a double cheeseburger and salty fries. 

Waiting until Tyler unloads both items from her and sets them on the bedside table, she stands on her tiptoes and wraps both arms around his neck, tightly squeezing. “Congrats, daddy. I heard your swimmers did some good work. You’ve got quite the knack of making some nice looking kids.”

“Helps when you got a beauty like her kicking in half the genes,” he nods in Esme’s direction as he speaks; the new mom sitting up in bed, both twins contently nursing. 

He remains in awe of her; that steadfast determination to have the labour and delivery go exactly as she wanted, the strength and the resilience it took to battle through the agony; many times sobbing in pain and frustration and almost giving in to medication offered by the nurses. Having a baby isn’t new for her; she’s been down that road before and every time he feels as if he's done nothing more than sit on the side lines and watch with both wide eyed wonder and immense worry. And while every time has been an incredible -if not overwhelming and slightly nauseating- experience, there’d been some extra amazing about both her and the entire experience. Perhaps being the last two children had something to do with it. They’d never go through it again and while seven is more than enough, there’s something bittersweet about the finality of it all. And maybe it’s the culmination of everything that had taken place in the past several months; the threats against his family, the near death experience, the battle to repair and maintain his body AND mind. In the same way Millie is a miracle, so are the twins. Surviving despite the odds stacked against them; the worry and the stress that had eaten away at their mother and threatened to destroy her. And the fact that he’d come so damn close to never meeting them. To helping create two beautiful little human beings but never getting the chance to actually parent them.

“You really are a lovesick fool,” Riley grins, and pecks his cheek. “It’s a good look on you, Aussie. It’s cute.”

He scowls. “Fuck outta here with that language.”

“I forgot; you HATE being called that. It upsets your delicate sensibilities. I’d call you a complete and total badass, but that title is taken by someone else today. You…” she approaches the hospital bed, standing at the side and then leaning over to drop a kiss on the top of her sister’s head. “...are a fucking warrior. You pulled it off, huh? You held in there. No screaming or crying for the drugs. Gotta hand it to you, I thought you’d cave.”

“Tyler owes me a month of back and foot rubs. He didn’t have faith in me either.”

“It’s not that I didn’t have faith,” he argues. “I THOUGHT you could do it. I just didn’t want to see you doing it.” It’s a weakness; seeing her in pain or distressed in any way -whether it grief or immense sadness- his ultimate undoing. The helplessness that comes with not being able to do anything to make things better. “She was fucking incredible,” he says to Riley, then tends to unpacking the bag of food. 

“She always has been. Who do you think showed me how to be tough and bad ass? To stick up for myself and for what’s right. She’s little but mighty, our little MeMe.” Riley smoothes down her sister’s hair, then presses a kiss to her cheek. “Good job, momma. They’re beautiful. Look at all that hair! No wonder you had so much heartburn near the end there. Isn’t that the old wives tale? Heartburn means lots of hair? And I gotta say…” she wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “...nice jugs. I think I’ve finally caught on to why he likes seeing you knocked up so much.”

“Booty and boobs,” Tyler grins, and tends to unwrapping one of the cheeseburgers. “Bonus. Am I right?”

“I may have to convince Shaena to get herself knocked up. I wouldn’t mind some of THAT bonus.”

“Okay, you’re BOTH pigs,” Esme declares. “I see why you get along so well.”

“How you feeling?” Riley toes off her sandals and slides into the bed beside her sister. “Like you got hit by a truck?”

“I’m a little sore. Tired. But nothing serious.”

“You must have some damn good hips, MeMe. You were able to give birth to an over ten pounder naturally. And now these two? Eight pounds each? That’s sixteen pounds of baby. What the hell, Aussie? Why do you make such big kids?”

“As TJ says, daddy’s a giant,” Esme says. 

“I still don’t know how you don’t break her in half. Especially when things get extra wild and crazy. Look at this guy…” Riley runs her fingertips over the top of Takota’s head. “...boy, do you ever look like your daddy. You poor little bugger.”

“Don’t talk about my kid like that. I make beautiful kids, thank you very much.”

“I’ll hand it to you, Aussie. You’ve got some damn good genes in you. That sperm of yours is damn talented. And tenacious as all fuck.”

“Don’t get him started on his sperm,” Esme says with a roll of the eyes. “I’ve only been hearing about for the last...I don’t know...five years. Did he tell you about the shirt? That I had made for him? Andy’s bringing it later. It was meant as a joke; Super Sperm written on the front of it. Jokes on me; he says he’s going to wear it. In PUBLIC.”

“You should know by now that I have no shame. You’ve only been around me for almost eight years. You new here or something?”

“In public though, Tyler? Why would you do that to me? Isn’t knocking me up a half a dozen times enough for you? You have to let everyone know about your handiwork?”

“Hey, I’ve made two sets of twins. I have bragging rights.”

“Well I’m not being seen with you when you wear it. You better NOT show up tomorrow morning to take the twins home wearing that. I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He holds one of the cheeseburgers close to her lips; a hand under her chin to catch anything that spills. “What?” he asks, when he notices Riley intently watching him with raised eyebrows. “What’s your issue, Red?”

“Look at you. Feeding the wifey. The good little whipped husband you are.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. She’s got her hands full. I’m helping my girl.”

“Goddamnit. You DO have your adorable moments.”

Tyler frowns. “Shut up. Fuck off with that shit or I’ll have security haul your ass out.”

“He really does NOT like being called the A word,” Esme says, once more biting into the cheeseburger, waiting until she chews and swallows before accepting a ketchup soaked fry and a sip of pop. 

“I gotta say…” Riley stretches her legs out and wriggles her back into the pillows behind. “...you two do some good work. Those are some really pretty babies. Normally newborns are ugly as hell. All yours have been pretty good looking. None of them have looked like aliens. Even Tanner. As tiny and skinny as he was. He was even a cutie. But these two. Dark hair and blue eyes? They’re going to have all kinds of boys and girls chasing them on the playground. And three girls? Well done, Tyler. Getting shit done.”

“I’m an equal opportunity baby maker.” He removes his hand from under Esme’s chin when his cell phone vibrates within the pocket of his jeans. “Ovi,” he says, as he reads the text message. “He’s downstairs with the kids. I SHOULD go and help.”

“I’ll be fine,” Esme assures him. “I’m in good hands. Riley’s here.”

“You can do this?” He addresses his sister in law.

“She can feed herself. I’m not her damn slave. Of course I can. You’re not the only one capable of waiting on her hand and foot, you know. The rest of us just have morals and standards and refuse to bend to her every whim.”

“I’m going to kick your ass one day.”

“Bring it, Aussie. I have skills. Mad skills.”

“Running your pie hole is not a skill, Red. Regardless of what you think.”

“No, but the other things I do with my pie hole are. How do you put up with him, MeMe? How have you not smothered him in his sleep by now?”

“The sex is off the hook. Hello, multiple orgasms. Every time.”

“Normally I’d be offended that you just married me for sex, but today I’ll take it as a compliment,” Tyler says, and cups her back of her head in the palm of his hand as he leans down to kiss her. Then presses his lips to one twin’s forehead, then the other. “I’ll be back.”

“Is that a warning or a threat?” Riley teases, as she slides out of bed and tends to feeding Esme her lunch. 

“For you? Both. Take care of my girl.” Giving Esme a wink, he opens the door and disappears into the hall.

“You know, you two make me sick,” Riley complains, as she holds the half eaten burger up to her sister’s mouth. 

“Why’s that?”

“You just gave birth. To TWO babies. And you’re still looking at one another all loved up and shit. Does it ever end? WILL it ever end?”

“I hope not. I hope we’re always looking at one another that way. That we’re always feeling it. He’s amazing. Ry. Look how far he’s come. How determined he is. To be better and do better. Nothing stands in that man’s way when he wants something. Or someone.”

“Nothing AND no one. You’re damn lucky, MeMe. You’ve got someone that loves you beyond all comprehension. That truly thinks the world revolves around you and that the sun shines out your ass.”

“I love him. More than I ever thought I could love someone. I’d given up on ever finding something...or someone...like that. Mark destroyed me. Tyler put me back together. He made me better.”

“Well, I for one, thank him for it. For making you so damn happy. And for giving you what you’d wanted for so long and never thought you’d have. A GOOD marriage and amazing kiddos. You’ve got it all, MeMe. A man that loves you, an incredible family, a beautiful home in an even more beautiful place.”

“Your life isn’t too shabby itself, you know. Did you think you’d ever end up here? Permanently? Did you ever think you’d legitimately fall in love with someone?”

“No,” Riley admits. “Not in a million years.”

“Shaena’s amazing. She’s smart and she’s feisty and she’s got her shit together. She’s perfect for you. And you both seem so happy. Tell me you’re happy, Ry. That’s all I want; you to be happy.”

“I am,” the redhead smiles. “Very happy. Disgustingly happy. And that’s NEVER happened before. I guess I should thank your husband, huh? I mean, it sucks he got fucked up as bad as he did, but if he hadn’t, I never would have come here. I never would have met her. In a weird, morbid way, maybe it’s proof that if something is meant to happen, it will.”

“As much as I hate what we went through and what he is still going through, maybe you ARE right. Maybe THAT’s the silver lining. You and Shaena.”

“I don’t know, MeMe. I think these two little ones are pretty damn silvery themselves. They’re so beautiful. They’re okay? Healthy?”

“They’re perfect. Despite everything we went through...all the stress and the worry...they are unbelievably perfect.”

“You do good work, sweets. And you’re an amazing momma. Don’t ever forget that, okay? You are incredible and you’re a rockstar and I feel so honoured to even know you.”

“Okay, now you’re pushing it and you’re going to make me cry.”

“I love you. I’ve loved ya since I was kid and you were letting me climb into your bed during bad storms. Remember how you used to let me snuggle into you? And you’d comb your fingers through my hair and run your fingertip down my nose and trace my nostrils? Over and over again. Until I fell asleep.”

“I do remember that. And I’ve done it with all my kids. The nose thing. Works like a charm.”

“And you used to sing that one song. The one with the words ‘Now the star turns out his light’.”

“Good Night. It’s a Beatles song. John Lennon wrote it for his son. My dad used to sing it to me all the time. When I was having a hard time falling asleep. It’s the one thing I’ve always held onto. The one part of him I still have left, I guess. And don’t tell Tyler, but I sang it to him, too. When he was in the hospital. After Dhaka One and Two. It used to bring his heart rate down. Do NOT tell him I told you that. He’d be mortified that I sang a lullaby to him.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Riley tosses the cheeseburger wrapper in the trash, then reaches for the french fries, alternating between feeding herself and her sister. “Did you hear? About Kyle? He’s going back to the States. And he’s taking Allison with him.”

“Yeah, I heard. She stopped by this morning. I guess Tyler cut Kyle some slack; sent him a text in case he wanted to know about the twins. Kyle didn’t have the balls to respond. Or show.”

“Color me surprised. She decided to rent and not sell. Shaena and I move in in two weeks.”

“Wait...what?” Esme pushes her sister’s hand away when she attempts to feed her a fry. “You guys are moving in? Next door?”

Riley nods. “We’re going to be neighbours.”

“Oh my god, Ry! That’s amazing! The kids are going to be so stoked. To have you so close! And they LOVE Auntie Shaena.”

“She loves them right back. Tyler’s going to want to move, isn’t he.”

“He loves you. You know he does. He gives the hardest time to the people he loves the most. This is incredible. This all turned out way better than I thought it would. See? Silver linings? A whole bunch of them!”

“Looks like it runs the family, huh? Giving up crappy lives for greener pastures? Or should I say sandy and sunny ones?”

“We’re both lucky. We found someone when we least expected to. We got that chance; to get the hell out of dodge and make better lives for ourselves. Happier lives. Isn’t it amazing? To find someone like that? Someone that looks at you like you’re the most incredible being on earth? That loves you with everything they are and everything they have?”

“Yeah,” Riley smiles and nods. “It is.”

****

“Daddy!” Millie happily shrieks, spotting him as she and the others exit the gift shop. She abandons her hold on Ovi’s hand and immediately rushes through the busy front lobby; her braided pigtails -held in place by multicolored ribbons- bouncing and swinging wildly. And he effortlessly catches her when she takes a running leap; holding her briefly above his head and then lowering her down for a kiss and settling her on his hip. 

“Hey, monkey. Long time no see.”

“Did the babies come? Ovi wouldn’t tell us. He said it was a surprise! Did they? Did they come?”

“They did. Safe and sound.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t two boys,” she begs. “That the doctors weren’t wrong. Please tell me I don’t have two more brothers.”

“Just one more brother. And a sister.”

“Thank God!’ She heaves a dramatic sigh of relief. “I was going to have run away. If I got TWO brothers.”

“Well thankfully, you get to stay right where you are.” He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks, and then sets her on the ground. “What’s up with your look? Got a date? That’s NOT what you picked out for school.”

“I made Ovi take us home first. So I could put on my best dress. Do you like it?” Millie does a twirl and then poses as if on the catwalk; a hand on her side and a hip cocked. “Is it me?”

“It is so you,” Tyler confirms, as he eyes the frilly pink, purple, and yellow concoction, complete with a shimmering bow that ties at the small of the back. “You look beautiful. Like a princess.”

“That’s the look I was going for. But I had to wear these shoes,” she frowns down at the jelly sandals on her feet. “I went to put on my Spiderman ones but they’re too tight now.”

“I’ll get your another pair. I promise. Hey guys,” he scoops TJ up into one arm and Tanner the other; placing kisses to their foreheads. “Guess what? You got another brother. And a sister.”

“You said no more girls!” TJ laments. “You promised!”

“Mate, I don’t have control over these things. I can’t say WHAT I want. It just happens.”

“She better not be another Millie. I can’t handle two of her. She annoys the shit out of me!”

“Well maybe if you didn’t annoy the shit out of her first, she wouldn’t retaliate. What about you?” he addresses Tanner. “What do you think? A boy AND a girl?””

“I’m good with it, dad. It didn’t matter to me. Is mummy okay? Did she do a good job?”

“She did an amazing job. Daddy’s very proud of her. And she’s going to be so happy to see you guys. She can’t wait to introduce you to your siblings. Seven of you now. Can you believe that? Seven Rake kids.”

“That’s going to one crazy ass house on Christmas morning,” TJ declares, and Tyler puts him and his brother on the ground and tousles their hair; gathering up a hyper Declan as he yanks at his jeans and tries to climb up his legs. 

“Baby?” Declan asks hopefully. “Mommy baby?”

“Mommy had the babies. TWO babies, remember? Twins. Like TJ and Tanner.”

Declan frowns in confusion and looks down at his brothers. “But they there!”

“I didn’t say they ARE TJ and Tanner. I said they’re twins. Like TJ and Tanner. Wanna go see them? Wanna go see mommy? Give her a hug and a kiss?”

“Lots of kisses. Love mommy. Fluffy mommy.”

“Don’t call her that, okay? Tell her she’s beautiful. She’ll like to hear that.” He presses a kiss to Declan’s forehead and sets him on the ground; Millie immediately grabbing a hold of the back of his shirt to prevent him from taking off through the crowd. “Hey little peanut…” he drops down to a knee as Addie toddles towards him; fearlessly propelling herself on those tiny legs. She’d reached the milestone just a week before; spending only three days cruising furniture and using peoples hands for support before deciding she was ready to try it on her own. She’s proud of herself; a smile that spreads from ear to ear and crinkles both the bridge of her nose and the corners of her eyes. “...look at you…” he gathers her into his arms and stands; showering her chubby cheeks with kisses as she grabs at his nose and ears and giggles. “...getting so big. Daddy’s not ready for this. You doing all this stuff on your own. How’d you grow up so fast? It’s like I blinked and I missed it.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Ovi gives an apologetic smile; hands loaded down with gift shop bags. “Someone insisted we go home first.”

“Daddy loves the dress,” Millie says. “I knew he would. I knew he’d tell me I look beautiful.”

“You really think he’d tell you that you look stupid?” TJ smirks. “He’d lie so he wouldn’t hurt your feelings.”

“I’m wearing a dress but I could still kick your ass Tyler. You’re tough, but you’re not THAT tough. Not yet, anyway.”

“One day I will be. And you’ll live to regret all the times you made fun of me and pissed me off. YOU’LL be getting YOUR ass kicked.”

“Okay, no one is kicking anyone’s ass,” Tyler says. “Can we be a normal family please? Even for a half an hour? I’m not asking for much here. Just a little bit of cooperation. Deal?”

“I’m watching you TJ,” Millie glares at her brother. “Sleep with one eye open, son.”

“Bring it. I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of anyone.”

“And this is what you want?” Tyler addresses Ovi, and takes one of the bags. “This is what you want for your life? Kids like this? What’s wrong with you?”

“If I even have half of what you have, I’ll be a lucky man,” Ovi responds, and then wraps Tyler in a one armed hug. “Congratulations. Everyone’s good?”

“Everyone’s great. Babies are beautiful and healthy and momma’s a rockstar. Do what I asked you to?”

“It’ll be delivered in a couple of hours. The clerk at the jewelry store laughed at me. When I called it what you did. A push present. Is that REALLY a thing?”

“I’ve only just read about it. But I figure; giving birth to twins naturally? She deserves one.”

“We got mummy presents,” TJ says, as he takes hold of Tanner’s hands with one of his own and then curls two fingers through a belt loop on his dad’s jeans. “And some for the babies too. Think she’ll like them?”

“You know what I think?” Tyler lays a hand on the top of his son’s head. “I think you guys are the best presents of all.”

****

“Mummy!” TJ is the first through the door; pulling his twin behind him as he rushes for the bed. The two waste no time scrambling onto it, waddling across the mattress on their knees and positioning themselves on either side of her; two sets of arms wrapping around her neck. 

“Hey guys.” She presses kisses to foreheads and cheeks and squeezes those little bodies as tight as she possibly can; hands on the back of their heads when they pull back to look at her. “Exciting news, huh? A new brother and sister?”

“I’m just glad it’s not TWO girls,” TJ says. “I couldn’t have handled that.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Tanner chimes in. “That you’re okay and the babies are okay. That everyone’s okay.”

“Everyone is just fine,” she assures him. “Nothing for you to stress about, Nugget. Everyone is very healthy and very happy. You want to go see them? I’m sure they’re anxious to meet you guys. I’ve been telling them all about all of you. How lucky they are to have amazing big brothers like you two. Go on…” she pecks TJ’s lips, then Tanner’s. “...go and see them. Maybe Auntie Riley can help you hold them.”

The twins scramble off the bed and rush over to where Riley stands between the two bassinets; Declan perched on her hip as she patiently answers all of Millie’s questions in regards to her new siblings. And listens to all the gripes about getting another brother. 

“You good?” Tyler asks, as he slides in beside his wife. 

“I’m good. You?”

“Damn good,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple, then the corner of her mouth. 

“And look at you little Miss!” Esme lays a palm on the top of Addie’s head and pecks her tiny lips. “Look at that shirt! ‘I’m a big sister’. Well, I don’t know how big you are, but you definitely got sister bragging rights. You’re no longer the youngest. You can thank daddy for that. For his selective memory. Or is it hearing? Did he forget what the doctor said or just not listen?”

“A little bit of both,” Tyler admits. “She might be a big sister, but something tells me she’s going to grow up to be the littlest.”

“No doubt about it. Our little peanut is going to stay that way. A little peanut. Hey handsome,” she greets Ovi, as he leans down to kiss her cheek in both greeting and congratulations. “Hope they didn’t make life too hard on you.”

“They never do. Congratulations. They’re beautiful. Not that I expected any less. I don’t think it’s possible; for you two to make ugly kids.”

“Definitely some good genes in this family,” Esme says, and then places a hand on the middle of his back as he sits down neck to hear; palm rubbing in slow, smooth circles. “Well? Did you hear anything? About the places in New York? Which one did you go with?”

“We took the place in Queens. The loft I was showing you guys pictures of. The ones they made in that old warehouse.”

“I loved that place!” Esme gushes. “Reminds me of where I lived for a bit. You’ll love it there. That was some of the best times of my life. Going right into New York City; exploring all the different restaurants and seeing Broadway shows, shopping in all these amazing stores. So much to see and do. You’ll love every second. So will Riya. I’m glad you guys are doing this together. That you won’t be alone. Although it IS killing me inside. The thought of you leaving.”

“He’s doing what’s right,” Tyler reminds her. “Getting a life of his own. Can’t stay with us forever, babe.”

“He doesn’t have to go THAT far. Not that I’m not proud of you, Ovi. Not that I’m not happy for you. I’m just going to miss you. You’re a huge part of my life. It’s going to be hard; not having you around anymore. I guess I’ll have to make do; phone calls and Skype and all of that.”

“And you could visit,” Ovi says. “Maybe you can even convince him…” he nods at Tyler. “...to get that brownstone you’ve always wanted.”

“She’s getting to me,” Tyler admits. “She’s starting to break me down.”

“We’re still a ways away from making a decision like that,” she says. “At least a couple of years. I would be nice if all the kids were walking and off the boob before taking a big step like that. When do you leave?”

“Get the keys next week.”

“Next week?” She cries. “That soon?! I thought maybe two or three. Why so fast?”

“It gives us a month to get settled. Before I start classes. And gives us some time to see things. Act as tourists for a bit.”

“Oh my god…” Esme sighs. “...this is all happening way too fast. I wasn’t ready for THIS.”

“Well, if you weren’t ready for this, you probably won’t be ready for what I’m about to tell you,” Ovi says with a sheepish grin.

“Oh no…” she frowns. “...what is going on? What…?”

“Should I tell her?” Ovi address Tyler. “You think it’s a good time?”

“Good as time as any, kid. Might as well catch her while she’s got a little bit of a buzz from the pain meds in her.”

“Wait…” she looks at Ovi, then at her husband. “...what is going on? What are you two up to?”

“I’m not up to anything. I just knew before you did. I’m innocent. He wanted to tell you himself. So...tell her...bite the bullet...get ‘er done.”

“Ovi…” Esme regards him, chin tucked to her chest. “...what is it? How BAD is it?”

“It’s not bad,” he assures her. “It’s exciting. And a little scary.”

“Okay…”

“Riya’s pregnant.”

“What?” Esme clamps a hand over her mouth in an effort to control the shriek that erupts from her mouth. “Are you serious? She’s having a baby?”

Ovi nods.

“You’re going to be a daddy?”

“Yup. In about six months.”

“Holy shit!” She throws both arms around his neck. “Oh my god! Ovi! You’re going to be a dad! Holy fuck! This is good news, right? You guys are happy? A baby’s a good thing?”

“A very good thing. Surprising, but good.”

“Holy crap,” tears well in her eyes, and she places a hand over her heart as she pulls away; the other pushing through his hair and then cupping his cheek. “...you’re having a baby?! I’m going to be grandma?! Holy fuck! I just became a mom again! Now I’m going to be a grandma too?”

Ovi nods.

“This is amazing. I am so happy for you. And selfishly for me, too. A grandma! And you…” she digs an elbow into her husband’s ribs. “...you’re going to be a grandpa! Grandpa Tyler!”

He frowns. “Easy now. None of that shit.”

“This is so surreal.” She heaves a sigh and leans back in the bed. “I’ve suddenly got seven kids AND I’m going to be a grandma. This is awesome. So fucking awesome.”

“Hottest and beautiful grandma on the planet,” Tyler declares, then presses a kiss to her temple and wraps an arm around her, pulling her tightly into his side. “You alright, Me? You gonna be okay?”

“You know what’s so weird? About this moment? The three of us sitting here like this? This is how it ALL started. Eight years ago. With the three of us.”

“It’s not the end though,” Ovi pipes up. “There never can be an end, can there? As far as the three of us are concerned? Our story can’t REALLY end. How can it?”

“It can’t,” Tyler says, and tightens his hold on his wife’s slender frame. “It never ends. Not when you’re family.”


End file.
